With the rising of the sun the need of sleep began to afflict him. He had thought he never would need sleep again. His paddle became leaden in his hands, and Olympian yawns prostrated him.

He did not wish to take the time to sleep as yet, but he resolved to stimulate his flagging energies with bread and hot tea.

Landing on a point of stones, he built a fire, and hung his little copper pot over it. The sight of everything he had been provided with brought the thought of Nesis sharply home again, and sobered him.

Here was everything a traveler might require, even including two extra pairs of moccasins, worked, he was sure, by herself. "How can I ever repay her?" he thought uncomfortably.

Job was gyrating madly up and down the beach to express his joy at their deliverance. Ambrose was aroused from a drowsy contemplation of the fire by an urgent bark from the dog.

Looking up, he was frozen with astonishment to behold another bark canoe sweeping around the bend above. When motion returned to him, his hand instinctively shot out toward the gun. But there was only one figure. It was a woman--it was Nesis!

Ambrose dropped the gun and, jumping up, swore helplessly under his breath. He stared at the oncoming boat, fascinated with perplexity.

During the few seconds between his first sight of it and its grounding at his feet, the complications bound to follow on her coming presented themselves with a horrible clearness. His face turned grim.

Nesis, landing, could not face his look. She flung up an arm over her eyes. "Ah, don't look so mad to me!" she faltered.

"G.o.d help us!" muttered Ambrose. "What will we do now?"

She sank down in a heap at his feet. "Don't, don't hate me or I die!"'

she wailed.

It was impossible for him to remain angry with the forlorn little creature. He laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Get up," he said with a sigh. "I'm not blaming you. The question is--what are we going to do?"

She lifted her head. "I go with you," she whispered breathlessly. "I help you in the rapids. I bake bread for you. I watch at night."

He shook his head. "You've got to go back," he said sternly.

"No! No!" she cried, wringing her hands. "I can' go back no more!

Las' night when you go I fall down. I think I goin' die. I sorry I not die. I want jump in river; but the priest say that is a bad thing.

"I can' go back to Watusk's teepee no more. If he touch me I got kill him! That is bad, too! I don't know what to do! I want be good so I see my fat'er bam-by!"

Ambrose groaned.

She thought he was relenting, and came and wound her arms about him.

"Tak' me wit' you," she pleaded like a little child. "I be good, Angleysman!"

Ambrose firmly detached the imploring arms. "You mustn't do that," he said as to a child. "We've got to think hard what to do."

"Ah, you hate me!" she wailed.

"That's nonsense!" he said sharply. "I am your friend. I will never forget what you did for me!"

He took an abrupt turn up and down the stones, trying to think what to do. "Look here," he said finally. "I've got to hurt you. I should have told you before, but I couldn't bring myself to hurt you. I can't love you the way you want. I'm in love with another woman."

She flung away from him, shoulder up as if he had raised a whip. Her face turned ugly.

"You love white woman!" she hissed with extraordinary pa.s.sion. "Colina Gaviller! I know! I hate her! She proud and wicked woman. She hate my people!" Nesis's eyes flamed up with a kind of bitter triumph. Her voice rose shrilly.

"She hate you, too! Always she is bad to you. I know that, too. What you want wit' Colina Gaviller? Are you a dog to lie down when she beat you?"

Ambrose's eyes gleamed ominously. "Stop it!" he cried. "You don't know what you're talking about." His look intimidated her. The fury of jealousy subsided to a sullen muttering. "I hate her! She bad to the people. She want starve the people. She think her yellow horse better than an Indian!"

Ambrose, seeing her lip begin to tremble and her eyes fill, relented.

"Stop it," he said mildly. "No use for us to quarrel."

She suddenly broke into a storm of weeping and cast herself down, hiding her face in her arms. Ambrose could think of nothing better to do than let her weep herself out. He sat down on a boulder.

She came creeping to him at last, utterly humbled. "Angleysman, tak'

me wit' you," she murmured, clasping her hands before him. Her breath was still caught with sobs. "I not expec' you marry me. I not bot'er you wit' much talk lak' a wife. I jus' be your little servant. You not want me, you say: Go 'way. I jus' wait till you want me again."

Ambrose turned his head away. He had never imagined a man having to go through with anything like this.

"Always, always I work for you," she whispered. "Let Colina Gaviller marry you. She not mind me. I guess she not mind that little dog you love. I jus' poor, common red girl. She think not'ing of me!"

Ambrose laughed a bitter note at the picture she called up. "That would hardly work," he said.

"But tak' me wit' you," she implored. She finally ventured to lay her cheek on his knee.

He laid a hand on her hair. "Listen, you baby," he said, "and try to understand me. You know that they are going to try to put off all this trouble on me. They will say I made the Indians do bad. They will say I tried to kill John Gaviller. The police will arrest me, and there will be a trial. You know what that is."

"Everybody see you not a bad man," she said.

"It's not as simple as that," he said with a wry smile. "I have n.o.body to speak for me but myself. Now, if you go away with me everybody will say: 'Ambrose Doane stole Watusk's wife away from him. Ambrose Doane is a bad man.' And then they will not believe me when I say I did not lead the Indians into wrong; I did not try to kill John Gaviller."

"I speak for you," cried Nesis. "I tell Gordon Strange and Watusk fix all trouble together."

"If you go with me, they will not believe you either," said Ambrose patiently. "They will say: 'Nesis is crazy about Ambrose Doane. He makes her say whatever he wants.'"

"It is the truth I am crazy 'bout you," said Nesis.

Ambrose sighed. "Listen to me. I tell you straight, if you go with me it will ruin me. I am as good as a jailbird already."

She gave her head an impatient shake. "I not understand," she said sadly. "You say it. I guess it is truth."

There was a silence. Nesis's childlike brows were bent into a frown.

She glanced into his face to see if there was any reprieve from the hard sentence. Finally she said very low:

"Angleysman, you got go to jail if you tak' me?"

"Sure as fate!" he said sadly.

She got up very slowly. "I guess I ver' foolish," she murmured. She waited, obviously to give him a chance to speak. He was mum.

"I go back now," she whispered heart-brokenly, and turned toward her canoe.