Dicksie came into the light as he hastened over. If she was uncertain in manner, he was not. He met her, laughing just enough to relieve the tension of which both for an instant were conscious. She gave him her hand when he put his out, though he felt that it trembled a little. "Such a ride as you have had! Why did you not send me word? I would have come to you!" he exclaimed, throwing reproach into the words. Dicksie raised her eyes. "I wanted to ask you whether you would sell us some grain-sacks, Mr. McCloud, to use at the river, if you could spare them?" "Sacks? Why, of course, all you want! But how did you _ever_ get here? In all this water, and two lone women! You have been in danger to-night. Indeed you have--don't tell me! And you are both wet; I know it. Your feet must be wet. Come to the fire. O Bill!" he called to Dancing, "what's the matter with your wood? Let us have a fire, won't you?--one worth while; and build another in front of my tent. I can't believe you have ridden here all the way from the ranch, two of you alone!" exclaimed McCloud, hastening boxes up to the fire for seats. Marion laughed. "Dicksie can go anywhere! I couldn't have ridden from the house to the barns alone." "Then tell me how _you_ could do it?" demanded McCloud, devouring Dicksie with his eyes. Dicksie looked at the fire. "I know all the roads pretty well. We did get lost once," she confessed in a low voice, "but we got out again." "The roads are all underwater, though." "What time is it, please?" McCloud looked at his watch. "Two minutes past twelve." Dicksie started. "Past twelve? Oh, this is dreadful! We must start right back, Marion. I had no idea we had been five hours coming five miles." McCloud looked at her, as if still unable to comprehend what she had accomplished in crossing the flooded bottoms. Her eyes fell back to the fire. "What a blaze!" she murmured as the driftwood snapped and roared. "It's fine for to-night, isn't it?" "I know you both must have been in the water," he insisted, leaning forward in front of Dicksie to feel Marion's skirt. "I'm not wet!" declared Marion, drawing back. "Nonsense, you are wet as a rat! Tell me," he asked, looking at Dicksie, "about your trouble up at the bend. I know something about it. Are the men there to-night? Given up, have they? Too bad! Do open your jackets and try to dry yourselves, both of you, and I'll take a look at the river." "Suppose--I only say suppose--you first take a look at me." The voice came from behind the group at the fire, and the three turned together. "By Heaven, Gordon Smith!" exclaimed McCloud. "Where did you come from?" Whispering Smith stood in the gloom in patience. "Where do I look as if I had come from? Why don't you ask me whether I'm wet? And won't you introduce me--but this is Miss Dicksie Dunning, I am sure." Marion with laughter hastened the introduction. "And you are wet, of course," said McCloud, feeling Smith's shoulder.