“Yes.” Marvin set his teeth and was silent for some minutes. Then he picked up the lantern and lighted it. “Lie down and let me cover you up.” He tucked the blanket round her and whispered, “Good night, beloved.” “Good night, my very dearest friend.” He climbed out of the warm nest, faced the wind, clambered up a limestone wall by the aid of a cedar, and set himself to watch the water. But the lantern could not stand the gale. The light did not last a minute, and so he hung the whole thing in the cedar. There he sat all night, shivering with passion and with frost, and watching the channel. Not till dawn did he hear anything like a launch. Then just as the eastern clouds revealed a strip of gold, there stole upon his ear the pulse of an engine. It was feeling its way down the coast from the northeast, as if searching every bay. By and by a green light approached his own port light and stopped. Chapter 55. Caesium Far below him the alders parted, and a woman’s form appeared, with a basket on her arm. The light was dim, but not too dim to reveal the woman’s autumnal vigor. She mounted slowly to his very feet, and stood smiling up at him. “I am Moira Jamison.” “Your grateful servant. Miss Jamison.” “Where is she?” He numbly descended and led the way. There lay his young love, asleep at last, the sweet dawn just touching the forbidden lips. He helped the Red Leaf down, and she kissed the sleeper awake. “Goodness gracious! Is it you? How in the world did you know?” “Why, the patrol was hunting for Captain Mahan to give him a telegram. Ojeeg had to confess his sin, and he came very near being murdered. But Captain John came home and told his mother, and she sent her husband down with the telegram and with me. You see the advantage. If anybody dares to breathe a word against my Naynokahsee, he’ll have to breathe two against the old Red Leaf.” Jean was presently off down the hill to thank George Gillies, leaving Marvin and Moira alone. “Miss Jamison, what can I say to Dr. Rich?” “Nothing. He knows that I’m your sufficient chaperon.” She looked it. She sat there in a hole, but the sun had spied her out and was fitting a coronet to her coronet face. Her back was as straight as the ramrod in the rifle that her Indian ancestor used at Quebec. It was in the loyal arms of that ancestor that the lord marquis Montcalm died. Marvin went down into the rifle pit and helped her up, and together they descended to the river’s edge, where he received the telegram from the Scotchman’s hands. He read it aloud: Proceed by first train to Montreal. Destination Southampton. Instructions and passport at my banker’s. Chase Mahan. “Is that your father?” “Yes.” She flushed a little and turned to Mr. Gillies. “When does the next train for Montreal leave the Canadian Sault?” “Aboot a minute past noon.”