But there was no rude chaffing as the two walked a little apart from the rest. They were men n.o.ble enough to respect the sacredness of a first great love.

There was much rejoicing among the women and children when the men returned to the settlement with the moose. It had been skinned and carefully divided. Some carried their portions, while others bore theirs suspended on poles from shoulder to shoulder. Thus for the first time since leaving their old homes did the exiles have a sufficient supply of meat.

A new life now pervaded the settlement. During the following days and weeks the men roamed the forest-clad hills and valleys in search of game. Directed by Dane, they soon became quite skilful hunters, especially the Colonel, who was never happier than when out in the woods. Then around the big camp-fire at night, the men would relate their thrilling and humorous experiences during the day.

This was a pleasant time for Dane. He had shifted his camping-place from the lake to the sh.o.r.e of the creek, and here he had built for himself a small abode, covering the roof and sides with wide strips of birch bark to keep out the rain. He was very skilful at such work, and a happy afternoon it was for him when he first showed Jean his finished cabin. They had come by water, and the bow of the canoe was resting upon the sh.o.r.e. It was here that they had met three weeks before, and under the big maple Dane had erected his little building. The tree had put on its scarlet bunting, and touched by the bright September sun, glowed its welcome to the young lovers.

Jean examined the cabin most carefully, and her admiration was unbounded.

"I think it is splendid!" she enthusiastically exclaimed. "You never told me anything about it."

"I wanted to surprise you," Dane explained. "I have been so busy with other things that I have had little time to work here, so only finished it a few days ago."

"And will you live here all the time?" Jean eagerly asked.

The young man smiled as he looked fondly upon the girl's animated face and sparkling eyes. Then he shook his head.

"I wish I could live here, Jean. But I have a dozen such cabins in various places, and I must spend some time in them during the coming winter. They are my stopping-places, you see, when I am carrying messages for Davidson. No doubt he is very angry now at my long absence, so I shall have to go away in a day or two."

"But you will come back soon, will you not?"

"Do you really want me to come back soon?" Dane asked.

"W-why certainly," the girl stammered, while her face suddenly flushed.

"I hope you will use this cabin often."

"I will make it larger and stay here all the time, if you want me to."

"Oh, will you? How nice that would be."

"But only if you will stay with me."

"Oh!" It was all that Jean could say, for his meaning was now quite clear. Her eyes dropped, and her body slightly trembled.

Impulsively Dane reached out and took both of her hands in his.

"You know what I mean, Jean," he said. "Surely you know how I love you."

Receiving no reply, he drew her quickly to him, and kissed her upon the lips. Startled and embarra.s.sed, she made a faint effort to free herself, but strong arms held her firm.

"Don't! Don't!" she gasped, while the rich blood crimsoned her face.

"You have no right to do this."

"I have the right of love," Dane contended, as he again kissed her. "I love you, and I know that you love me."

Jean made no further protest. Notwithstanding her confusion, she was supremely happy. Although often wooed, she had never before submitted to a lover's kiss, nor allowed his arms to encircle her. But now it was different. She loved this man as she once thought it impossible to love any one, and she knew that he loved her. His strength and masterfulness appealed to her, and made her a willing victim. She could not deny it, neither did she wish to do so. She was content to give herself up wholly and unreservedly to her conquering hero.

And as the two stood silently there, the lordly maple seemed to reach out its great branches over their young united heads and beam its happy benediction. The ubiquitous squirrels appeared to know that something unusual was taking place. They c.o.c.ked their shrewd little heads in a listening att.i.tude, stared impudently, and then sent the news abroad to their feathered and furry comrades of the forest. Of all this, however, the lovers were unconscious, so lost were they in their new-found joy.

"I never realised that you cared so much for me," Jean at length whispered. "When did you begin to love me?"

"From the first time I saw you by that shack at Portland Point," Dane replied. "I was so absent-minded when I went back to the lake that Pete did not know what to make of me. I returned later and saw you at one of the camps telling stories to several children. You know what happened after that."

"Indeed I do," the girl declared. "I can never forget that night, nor how you saved me from Seth Lupin."

"Have you heard from the villain since?"

"Not since coming here. But so long as he is in this country I cannot feel safe. I sometimes imagine he is prowling around here and will appear at any minute."

"Umph, it won't be well for him if he does when I am here," and Dane's hands clenched hard. "He won't get off as easily as he did that last time. I thought he might follow you when you first arrived at this place, so ordered Pete to be on the lookout. I hoped that you would understand the meaning of that arrow in the big pine."

"I was certain that you had much to do with that," Jean replied. "For a while I thought that you were near, and wondered why you did not come to see me. But now I know that you were thinking of my welfare, and longing to come."

"I was always thinking about you, Jean, and I have something here to show how much you were in my mind."

Thrusting his right hand into the breast-pocket of his jacket, he brought forth a little piece of wood. Removing a plug from one end, he drew out a silver arrow-pin.

"This is a proof how much I was thinking of you. You little know how eagerly I looked forward to the time when I would have the right to present it to you."

"And did you really make this?" Jean asked, taking the arrow in her hand and examining it most carefully. "I think it is wonderful."

"Yes, I made it myself," Dane replied, delighted at the girl's interest and pleasure. "I worked it out of a silver coin my mother gave me years ago, and which I valued most highly. For no one else would I have done such a thing."

Dane's voice was a little husky as he spoke, and this Jean noticed.

"Your mother is dead, then?" she queried. She had often longed to ask him about her, but owing to his reticence about his past life, she had not done so. She had thought it strange, nevertheless, that he had never mentioned his parents.

"My mother died five years ago," Dane explained. "Whatever I am I owe to her. She was a n.o.ble woman."

"Is your father dead, too? Have you no home?"

"I have had no real home since my mother died," was the evasive reply.

"My home is wherever night overtakes me. I cannot tell you any more now, so please do not ask me. I know you will trust me."

He paused abruptly, impulsively took the arrow from the girl's hand, and placed it in her dress at her throat. He then stepped back to view the effect.

"It becomes you well, Jean, and you must always wear it there. It is Love's-Charm, and it may mean more to you than you now imagine."

"I shall always wear it," was the low response, "not only as Love's-Charm but as a remembrance of this happy day."

CHAPTER X

WHILE THE WATER FLOWS

The Colonel was not altogether surprised when that evening Jean told him the important news. He had not been blind and deaf to all that had been taking place around him since Dane's arrival. He was fond of the courier, and believed him to be a n.o.ble young man, worthy of his daughter's love. He wanted Jean to be happy, for in her happiness his own was vitally involved. Yet it was only natural that the news of the betrothal should bring a pang to his heart. Jean was his all, his comfort, his joy. But now she shared her love with another, a young man, of whose past history he knew very little, and nothing of the family from which he had sprung.