morning's exercise."

"And so have I," Reynolds laughingly replied, as he seated himself
astern and sent the canoe from the wharf.

"But of a different nature, though?" and Glen looked quizzically into
his face.

"Quite different. I exercised my lungs, and your father did the same."

"Not in anger, I hope."

"Oh, no. We had a great heart to heart talk, and got on splendidly.
We parted like two lambs, and are the best of friends."

"You are!" The girl's lips merely breathed the words, but they told of
her great relief.

"Yes, it is true. And more than that, we have already planned for a
trip together in the hills, and you are to go with us, that is, if you
wish to go."

At these words, Glen's face underwent a marvellous change.

"Don't go," she pleaded. "Stay where you are."

"Why, what is the matter?" and Reynolds looked his surprise as he
paused in a stroke.

"Have you forgotten your dream last night? It was bad, and first
dreams in a new place are sure to come true."

Reynolds laughed, as he again dipped the paddle into the water.

"Surely you are not superstitious, Miss Weston. Why should one be
alarmed at dreams? They are nothing."

"That may be true," and Glen trailed her hand in the water. "But an
uneasy feeling has taken possession of me which I cannot banish. I was
brought up among Indians, you know, and they are naturally
superstitious."

"And they have filled your mind with nonsense, I suppose."

"I am afraid so," and the girl gave a deep sigh.

They were some distance up the creek now, and the canoe was gliding
almost noiselessly through the water. Glen asked Reynolds about his
conversation with her father, and he told her all that had taken place.
She listened with the keenest interest. Her face was aglow with
animation, and her eyes shone with the light of astonishment.

"I can hardly believe it," she exclaimed when Reynolds had finished.
"Anyway, I am so thankful that daddy did not get angry, I hope he will
not change his mind. He is so gentle and good at times, and again he
is so stern and harsh. Oh! what is that?" she cried, as something
struck the water with a zip near the canoe.

Reynolds had ceased paddling, and was staring back at a spot where the
water had been ruffled, but not by the motion of the canoe. Then he
glanced shoreward, and his eyes keenly searched the high ridge of the
Golden Crest.

"It must have been a fish leaping for a fly," he somewhat absen