py, to give to trouble any part of this
magic morning. She kept her eyes on Haward's face, and almost forgot the
man who had risen from the grass and in silence was following them.

Now, had the trader, in his hunting shirt and leggings, his moccasins and
fur cap, been walking in the great woods, this silence, even with others
in company, would have been natural enough to his Indian blood; but
Monsieur Jean Hugon, in peruke and laced coat, walking in a civilized
country, with words a-plenty and as hot as fire-water in his heart, and
none upon his tongue, was a figure strange and sinister. He watched the
two in the boat with an impassive face, and he walked like an Indian on an
enemy's trail, so silently that he scarce seemed to breathe, so lightly
that his heavy boots failed to crush the flowers or the tender grass.

Haward rowed on, telling Audrey stories of the town, of great men whose
names she knew, and beautiful ladies of whom she had never heard; and she
sat before him with her slim brown hands folded in her lap and the
rosebuds withering in her hair, while through the reeds and the grass and
the bushes of the bank over against them strode Hugon in his Blenheim wig
and his wine-colored coat. Well-nigh together the three reached the stake
driven in among the reeds, a hundred yards below the minister's house.
Haward fastened the boat, and, motioning to Audrey to stay for the moment
where she was, stepped out upon the bank to confront the trader, who,
walking steadily and silently as ever, was almost upon them.

But it was broad daylight, and Hugon, with his forest instincts,
preferred, when he wished to speak to the point, to speak in the dark. He
made no pause; only looked with his fierce black eyes at the quiet,
insouciant, fine gentleman standing with folded arms between him and the
boat; then passed on, going steadily up the creek toward the bend where
the water left the open smiling fields and took to the forest. He never
looked back, but went like a hunter with his prey before him. Presently
the shadows of the forest touched him, and Audrey and Haward were left
alone.

The latter laughed. "If his courage is of the quality of his lace--What,
cowering, child, and the tears in your eyes! You were braver when you were
not so tall, in those mountain days. Nay, no need to wet your shoe."

He lifted her in his arms, and set her feet upon firm grass. "How long
since I carried you across a stream and up a dark hills