er to the door, walking stiffly, paused outside for long
enough to get his bearings, then closed the door noiselessly, turned the
key in the lock, withdrew it and dropped it in the snow. Then he made
his way cautiously to the back of the harbor and up the twisting path
as fast as he could scramble. At the top, crouched behind a boulder,
beside old Mother Nolan, he found Flora.

Neither the girl nor the man heard the old woman's words of farewell.
They moved northward along the snowy path, hand in hand, running with no
more sound than slipping star-shadows. So for a hundred yards; and then
the speed began to slacken, and at last they walked. They reached the
black crest where the brushwood of the drook showed above the level of
the barrens. Here they halted, and Darling whistled guardedly. An
answering note came up to them from the blackness below and to seaward.
Darling stepped down, parted the young birches and twisted alders with
one arm and drew Flora into the cover. She stumbled, saved herself from
falling by encountering his broad chest--and then she put up both arms
and slipped them about his neck.

"My God! Do you mean it, Flora?" he whispered.

For answer, her arms tightened about his neck. He lowered his head
slowly, staring at the pale oval of her face--and so their lips met.

Another cautious whistle from below brought them to a realization of
their surroundings. They continued their downward journey and presently
found George Wick. George was in a bad humor. He was cold, and he
grumbled in cautious growls.

"So ye come for a girl, did ye? Well, there bes another girl in this
harbor I'd like to be fetchin' away wid me! Aye, here she bes now, wid
the bully."

Mary sprang ashore.

"Here ye be. Git yer gear aboard quick, an' away wid ye," she whispered,
"an' don't forget yer promise."

"I'll be comin' back for ye, one o' these days," said George Wick.

"Then ye needn't, for ye bain't wanted," replied Mary.

John and Flora scarcely heard her; but George gave ear until the last
swish and rustle of her ascent through the brush died away. Then he fell
to loading the bully. Five minutes later they took their places aboard,
pushed out of the little cove, stepped the mast and spread the red sail.

Flora sat in the stern-sheets. John managed the tiller with his left
hand. The light breeze wafted them northward. At last George Wick broke
the silence.

"Hark! What bes that?" he exclaimed.

"It sounded like