They anchored that night in a long and narrow inlet where the trembling reflection of the tug's funnel lay beside the mirrored tops of pine trees that clung to the rocky shore. Ahead and behind was the open lake. There was no sound but the twitter of sleepy birds and the honk of a startled heron that winged its flight to solitudes still more remote. Then Clark began to fish, and, just as he landed a five pound bass, a girl's voice sounded clearly while a canoe floated round a nearby point. Elsie was in it and alone. XVII.--THE GIRL IN THE CANOE She stared at him with undisguised astonishment. "Good evening," he laughed. "Here I am!" The girl grew rather pink. "Isn't it wonderful that you really found us?" "I didn't, the captain found you." "It's hard to think of you as--well--just here." "I came down for a day or two off. For the first time in years, I've forgotten all about the works." "I'm glad, and do you--" At that instant there came from between Clark's feet a mighty thump, and the big bass, curving its spiney back, leaped clear of the boat and landed in the brown water with a splash. A flip of the broad tail and it vanished. "You've lost your fish!" exclaimed Elsie, aghast. "Perhaps you lost it, but it doesn't matter." "Is that the way you feel, just slack and careless?" "Just like that." "I knew you had a mind above fish," she laughed. "That's a distinction, because few fishermen have. Now I'd like to thank you again for your note of a few weeks ago." "Do you really remember that?" she said earnestly. He nodded, and over him came a slow conviction that there was an avenue of life he had never traversed and which seemed to be, after all, more inviting than he had allowed himself to believe. Elsie was years younger than Clark, but just now the latter felt strangely young. "Do you recollect finding out that I had but a few personal friends?" "Yes, of course." "Well," he said thoughtfully, "I would like another." "Oh!" She stared at him, her startled eyes full of light. "You don't mind, I hope?" The canoe drifted like a leaf towards his heavy boat, but Elsie's paddle was motionless. "It would make me very happy. But could I really do anything for you? It has always seemed that," she hesitated and her lips became tremulous, "that you didn't need any one." Then she added under her breath, "like me." Clark's face was grave. "And if I did?" She looked at him with growing fascination. Surrounded by the gigantic things of his own creation he was impressive, but here in the solitudes he took on even more suggestive characteristics. She stretched out a slim brown hand. "You will find me very difficult sometimes, I warn you now." "I like difficult things, they seem to come my way."