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Updated: June 21, 2025
Ainley would have preferred to hear her story first; but he did not demur to her suggestion, and with a little deprecatory laugh he began. "It is not very easy to talk of one's own doings, but I will do my best to avoid boastfulness."
The party was just passing, and nearly every pair of eyes was regarding him curiously. And one pair, the grey eyes of the girl who had been with Ainley, met his in level glance, and in them he saw a flicker of contempt. That glance sent the blood to his face, and increased the anger which had surged within him at the laughing remark he had overheard.
The last time his eyes alighted on Ainley the latter had ceased to write and was sitting staring into the fire with sombre eyes. Then sleep overtook him completely. He awoke in the grey dawn with Anderton's voice in his ears, and with a powdery snow driving into his eyes. "What " "Ainley's gone.
"You're a nice lot, Chigmok. Winged as you are, I thought you were quite safe. Now you force me to tie you up, savvy?" He promptly proceeded to do so, whilst Ainley seated himself anew and looked up at Stane. "Thank you, Stane! The warning was more than I deserved from you!" Then he laughed bitterly. "The poor devil isn't to be blamed.
We will start at once for there is no time to lose." He turned on his heel and led the way back to the canoe, and half an hour later they were paddling upstream towards the junction of the rivers, the Indian grave and imperturbable; Ainley with a puzzled, anxious look upon his handsome face.
"I carry the canoe, an' I tink I not wait. Dat is all." Ainley looked at the man thoughtfully. There was something furtive about the fellow, and he was sure that the reason given was not the real one. "Then why are you waiting here?" he asked with a directness that in no way nonplussed the other. "I take what you call a breather," answered the man stolidly. "What matter to you?"
"She go away. No good going to the beaver." He turned to the canoe again, and Gerald Ainley turned with him, without a word in reply. There was no sign of disappointment on his face, nor when they struck the main current again did he even glance at the shore on either side.
She broke off, and gave a little laugh, then continued: "Now I have my chance to prove I'm something better than a doll, and I'm not going to be robbed of it by Gerald Ainley, my uncle, or any one else! This camp depends on me for a time at least, and I'm going to make good; and prove myself for my own satisfaction. Do you understand?" "Yes," answered Stane, his eyes shining with admiration.
"We first," said the Indian after a cautious survey of the empty river. "Wait! He come." Seated behind the screening bushes they waited, watching the other side of the river. Half an hour passed and the man for whom they watched did not appear. Then the Indian spoke. "The man know," he said. "He wait till we go." "But why should he be afraid?" asked Ainley sharply. "I not know! But he wait."
"You see it in the glamour of romance," he said. "The reality I imagine was pretty beastly." "Well!" replied the girl quickly. "What would life be without romance?" "A dull thing," answered Ainley, promptly, with a sudden flash of the eyes. "I am with you there, Miss Yardely, but romance does not lie in mere barbarism, for most men it is incarnated in a woman." "Possibly!
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