“I was a fool to ask the question,” Joe muttered to himself. “Might ’ave knowed he was goin’ to bid his sweetheart good-by. I jest fergot fer a minute we was opposite to ol’ Sam Larkin’s place. Down, Duke, an’ behave y’rself. Y’r master don’t need you in this affair. Oh, jeminy—no! Two’s company an’ three’s a congregation, when it comes to love-makin’. Hain’t I been through it, hey? Gol-fer-ginger! What a heart-breaker I was! S’pect I’ll never git fergiveness fer the way I’ve used the women. Dang-it-all-to-dingnation! W’en a man begins to git old, his youthful sins an’ follies all comes back to him. Mine ha’nts me o’ nights till I can’t sleep. An’ I can’t eat, neither. First thing I know I’ll worry an’ fret over the cruel way I’ve used the women folks, till my beauty’ll begin to fade—an’ like as not peter out entirely. An’ I wouldn’t ’ave _that_ happen fer nothin’. Gol-fer-socks _no_! Say, Injin, ’ave you got any tobacker?” Without a word Bright Wing opened the pouch at his side and gave the lugubrious Farley a handful of tobacco. The latter filled his short-stemmed pipe, lighted it, and puffed away in silence for some time. The bloodhound lay watching the place where his master had disappeared. Presently he half arose, shook his pendulous ears and growled ominously. Then, ere he could be restrained, he leaped from the canoe and dashed up the bank, into the woods. With an exclamation of surprise and anger, Joe stumbled ashore and set out in pursuit of the dog, closely followed by Bright Wing. On leaving his friends, Ross Douglas entered the forest and hurried along a dim path, until he reached the edge of a clearing a few hundred yards from the river. In the center of this cleared space, and upon a slight elevation of ground, stood a double log-cabin with a hall or passage between the two rooms. The house stood facing the river; and the doors and windows were open. Back of the building was a field of corn surrounded by a fence of brush and poles, and in front of it lay a small patch of potatoes and garden vegetables. Ross shaded his eyes with his hand and looked from his cool retreat, across the sun-baked clearing, toward the cabin. Presently a face appeared at one of the small windows. Douglas stepped forward and beckoned. Then he hastily sprang back among the trees. The face quickly disappeared from the window; and a few seconds later a young woman emerged from the door and tripped nimbly down the path leading to the fringe of woodland along the river-shore. She was neatly clad. Her frock was of linsey-woolsey; her shoes were of calfskin. A wide-brimmed straw hat set jauntily upon her brown hair added to the piquancy of her fair oval face. Her cheeks were rosy; her teeth, white, and even. Entering the wood she called softly: “Ross, where are you?” “Here, Amy,” he answered in a low joyful tone, stepping from his place of concealment and hurrying toward her.