Bella asked no more questions and Millicent sat wondering how far she had been influenced by the reason she had given for leaving Clarence behind. She had undoubtedly desired to be free to devote herself to the gathering of material for her book, but that was not quite all. She had also half-consciously shrunk from the close contact with Clarence which would have been one result of their life in camp, but this she refused to admit. It was clearer that she desired an extension of the liberty which she must sometime relinquish. Taking it all round, she was rather troubled in mind. "There's one thing," remarked Bella. "He can't write you any reproachful letters for stealing away. At least, if he does so, you won't get them." This, as Millicent recognized, was a relief, but Miss Hume broke in upon her reflections with some trifling request and soon afterward the men strolled back toward the fire. The packers had already gone to sleep; the dew was heavy, but Nasmyth lay down on the shingle and Carew took a place beside his wife's chair. Suddenly Millicent leaned forward with her face turned toward the lake. "Listen!" she cried sharply. "Can't you hear something?" No sound reached the others for a moment; and then Nasmyth jumped up. "Yes," he exclaimed; "canoe paddles." A measured beat stole out of the silence, increasing until it broke sharply through the tranquil lapping of the water. Then, far up the glittering lake, a dim black bar crept out into the moonlight and by degrees grew plainer. "Of course, they may be Indians," Bella suggested mischievously. Carew included Millicent in his answering bow. "No; I believe I'm beaten. You and Miss Gladwyne were right." The moonlight was on Millicent's face, and Bella, watching her, read something that roused her interest in its expression--it was stronger than satisfaction, a deeper feeling not unmixed with pride. She had called and the man she had summoned from the depths of the wilderness had responded. A few minutes later the canoe grounded noisily on the shingle and Crestwick leaped out; Bella, regardless of the others, flung her arms about his neck and kissed him; and then she held him off so that she might see him. His garments were rent and tattered, his face was very lean, and one of his hands was bleeding from continuous labor with the paddle. "Oh!" she cried; "you disreputable scarecrow! You're not fit for select society. And how long is it since you had anything to eat?" "We had a rather rough time getting through; there was thick scrub timber in some of the valleys," Crestwick explained. "We might have made things easier by spending another few days on the trail, but Lisle wouldn't listen when I suggested it." "Then you did suggest it," said Bella reproachfully. "Of course, I'm merely your sister."