John Gaviller's eyes gleamed approvingly at the sight of her in her finery. Black silk became Colina's blond beauty admirably. Manlike, he arrogated the extra preparations to himself. He thought it was a kind of peace offering from Colina.

"Well!" he began jocularly, only to check himself at the sight of three places set at the table. "Who's coming?" he demanded with natural surprise.

Colina, busying herself attentively with the centerpiece of painter's brush, wondered if her father had met Ambrose Doane. She gave him a brief, offhand account of her adventure without mentioning their guest's name.

"But who is it?" he asked.

She answered a little breathlessly; "Ambrose Doane of Moultrie."

Gaviller's face changed slightly. "H-m!" he said non-committally.

"Doesn't the table look nice?" said Colina quickly.

"Very nice," he said.

"We must prove to ourselves once in a while that we are not savages!"

"Naturally! Do you want me to dress?"

Colina, who had not looked at her father, nevertheless felt the inimical atmosphere. She stooped to a touch of flattery. "You are always well dressed," she said, smiling at him.

"Hm!" said Gaviller again. "Call me when you're ready." He marched off to his library.

Colina breathed freely. So far so good! Ambrose Doane had not been to call on her father. He was hardly the simple youth she had decided.

But she couldn't think the less of him for that.

When she heard the door-bell ring--Gaviller's house boasted the only door-bell north of Caribou Lake--her heart astonished her with its thumping. She ran up to her own room. Ambrose according to instructions previously given was to be shown into the drawing-room.

Another wonder of Gaviller's house was the full-length mirror imported for Colina. She ran to it now. It treated her kindly. The crisp, thin, dead-black draperies showed up her white skin in dazzling contrast.

On second thought she left off the string of pearls. The effect was better without any ornament. Her face was her despair; her eyes were misty and unsure; the color came and went in her cheeks; she could not keep her lips closed.

"You fool! You fool!" she stormed at herself. "A man you have seen once! He will despise you!"

She could not keep the dinner waiting. Bracing herself, she started for the hall. A final glance in the mirror gave her better heart.

After all she was beautiful and beautifully dressed. She descended the stairs slowly, whispering to herself at every step: "Be game!"

Though the sun was still shining out-of-doors, according to Colina's fancy, every night at this hour the shutters were closed and the lamps lighted. The drawing-room was lighted by a single, tall lamp with a yellow shade.

Ambrose was standing in the middle of the room. He had changed his clothes. His suit was somewhat wrinkled, and his boots unpolished, but he looked less badly than he thought. At sight of Colina he caught his breath and turned very pale. His eyes widened with something akin to awe. Colina was suddenly relieved.

"So you dared to come!" she said with a careless smile.

He did not answer. Plainly he could not. He stood as if rooted to the floor. Colina had meant to offer him her hand, but suddenly changed her mind.

Instead, with reckless bravado considering her late state of mind, she went to the lamp and turned it up. She felt his honest, stricken glance following her, and thrilled under it.

"You have not met my father?"

Ambrose "took a brace" as he would have said. "No," he answered.

"I thought very likely you would see him this afternoon," she said with a touch of smiling malice.

His directness foiled it.

"I waited down the river," he said. "I didn't want to have a row with him that might spoil to-night."

"What a terrible opinion you have of poor father!" said Colina.

"Does he know I'm coming?" asked Ambrose.

"Certainly!"

"What did he say?"

"Nothing! What should he say?"

"He has boasted that no free-trader ever dared set foot in his territory."

"I don't believe it! It's not like him. Come along and you'll see."

"Wait!" said Ambrose quickly. "Half a minute!"

Colina looked at him curiously.

"You don't know what this means to me!" he went on, his glowing, unsmiling eyes fixed on her. "A lady's drawing-room! A lamp with a soft, pretty shade!--and you--like that! I--I wasn't prepared for it!"

Colina laughed softly. She was filled with a great tenderness for him, therefore she could jeer a little.

Ambrose had not moved from the spot where she found him.

"It's not fair," he went on. "You don't need that! It bowls a man over."

This was the ordinary language of gallantry--yet it was different.

Colina liked it. "Come on," she said lightly, "father is like a bear when he is kept waiting for dinner!"

The two men shook hands in a natural, friendly way. With another man Ambrose was quite at ease. Colina approved the way her youth stood up to the famous old trader without flinching. They took places at the table, and the meal went swimmingly.

Ambrose, whether he felt his affable host's secret animosity and was stimulated by it, or for another reason, suddenly blossomed into an entertainer. When her father was present he addressed Colina's ear, her chin or her golden top-knot, never her eyes.

John Gaviller apparently never looked at her either, but Colina knew he was watching her closely. She was not alarmed. She had herself well in hand, and there was nothing in her politely smiling, slightly scornful air to give the most anxious parent concern.

Under the jokes, the laughter, and the friendly talk throughout dinner, there were electric intimations that caused Colina's nostrils to quiver. She loved the smell of danger.

It was no easy matter to keep the conversational bark on an even keel; the rocks were thick on every hand. Business, politics, and local affairs were all for obvious reasons tabooed. More than once they were near an upset, as when they began to talk of Indians.

Ambrose had related the anecdote of Tom Beavertail who, upon seeing a steamboat for the first time, had made a paddle-wheel for his canoe, and forced his sons to turn him about the lake.

"Exactly like them!" said John Gaviller with his air of amused scorn.