her as she took
from the corner of the flat, where it stood erect along with other
boating gear, something which looked like a short iron hoe. With this
she walked to the end of the boat nearest him. She laid the hoe end of
the instrument against a chain that ran breast-high along one side of
the boat and at the stern plunged diagonally into the water. His mare
lifted her feet impatiently, as though the shoreward end of the chain
had brought a thrill across the loch from the moving ferry-boat. Turning
her back to him, the girl bent her slim young body without an effort;
and, as though by the gentlest magic, the ferry-boat drew nearer to him.
It did not seem to move; yet gradually the space of blue water between
it and the shore on which the whitewashed cottage stood spread and
widened. He could hear the gentle clatter of the wavelets against the
lip of the landing-drop as the boat came nearer. His mare tossed her
head and snuffed at this strange four-footed thing that glided towards
them.

Gregory, who loved all women, watched with natural interest the sway and
poise of the girlish figure. He heard the click and rattle of the chain
as she deftly disengaged her gripper-iron at the farther end, and,
turning, walked the deck's length towards him.

She seemed but a young thing to move so large a boat. He forgot to be
angry at being kept so long waiting, for of all women, he told himself,
he most admired tall girls in simple dresses. His exceptional interest
arose from the fact that he had never before seen one manage a
ferry-boat.

As he stood on the shore, and the great flat boat moved towards him, he
saw that the end of it nearest him was pulled up a couple of feet clear
of the water. Still the boat moved noiselessly forward, till he heard it
first grate and then ground gently, as the graceful pilot bore her
weight upon the iron bar to stay its progress. Gregory specially admired
the flex of her arms bent outwardly as she did so. Then she went to the
end of the boat, and let down the tilted gangway upon the pebbles at his
feet.

Gregory Jeffray instinctively took off his hat as he said to this girl,
"Good-morning! Can I get to the village of Dullarg by this ferry?"

"This is the way to the Dullarg," said the girl, simply and naturally,
leaning as she spoke upon her dripping gripper-iron.

Her eyes did not refuse to take in the goodliness of the youth while his
attention was for the moment given to his mare.

"Gen