She obeyed him, though his next move was one to have brought a scream to her lips if she had not become incapable of utterance. Standing in the water, which came almost up to his armpits, he had kept his arms high above the surface of the pool. Now he stretched them out toward her, clasped both her ankles with one huge hand, slipped the other under her waist, and with what seemed incredible strength and assurance, lifted her off the log. Then, without so much as wetting the edge of her skirt, he bore her to the bank, and seated her gently on the heap of driftwood from which she had ventured so bravely only a little while before. Should she weep, or laugh, or rage at him? Through eyes half-blinded by tears, she searched his face; but he met her troubled and fiery gaze with the most perfect calm. Then, after a moment, he deliberately turned, and stood facing squarely away from her,--an act of stoicism that at once removed her fears and completed her discomfiture. She took the hint implied in his movement, and bent down, blushing furiously, to pull up the fallen stocking, and let down her skirt. When she sat erect again the man had not changed his position; and she seized the opportunity to study him. His figure, though she had just had proof of his strength, was lean almost to thinness, very straight, and borne, she fancied, with a certain dignity and even majesty in its erectness. The straight, black hair under the sombrero was touched with gray. He was not young, past middle age perhaps; but she could hazard no nearer guess at his age. No matter! Looking at him thus, she began to feel her resentment falling away, as if every shaft from her angry eyes had broken harmlessly on that serene and unoffending back. Even her embarrassment began to seem inexcusable. The man had carried her ashore in much the manner he would have used if she had been a sack of oats to be saved from wetting. "You are very strong!" Marion said at last. He turned slowly toward her. His face was grave and expressionless, but by no means dull; and his eyes were very black and bright. "You--are--all--right--now?" he asked, ignoring her praise. There was a curious slowness and lack of emphasis in his speech, with a pause after each word, that gave a singular impressiveness to all he said. "But why did you do it?" she demanded. "'Fraid you fall," was his simple answer. "But I don't mind getting wet." "Easy drown in little water," he said laconically. She laughed at the idea of her drowning in a pool like that--she who had battled triumphantly with the breakers at Atlantic City, Newport, and Bar Harbor. "But I can swim!" she assured him. "I not know that," he replied, unmoved. True. And she must have appeared to be greatly in need of assistance. "Anyhow, I thank you!" she said sincerely. "But who am I thanking, please?" "Pete." "Pete! Pete who?" "Only Pete." "But have you no other name?" "Yes. Indian name."