to
one side, and they were once more in the water, the canoe bottom up.

"Oh, hang!" exclaimed the young man. Then apologetically, "Never mind,
heave her over, and we'll do it again."

But the girl's teeth had begun to chatter, and the work of emptying the
canoe the second time was not such a joke. And the second attempt to
get in and the third also proved a failure.

"What's the matter, anyhow?" grumbled the boy impatiently. "You've
done that three times, Leslie!"

He was amazed and dismayed to see her lip quiver. "I can't do it,
Fred. I'm all tired out. I--I believe I'm going to yell for help."

"Oh, Great Scott, Leslie!" groaned the young man. Then encouragingly,
"You're all right. Cheer up! I'll get you into this thing in no time."

He set to work again briskly, but though the girl helped, it was
without enthusiasm. She was going through an entirely new experience.
In all her happy life, untouched by sorrow or privation of any kind,
she had never felt the need of help. Fred and she had been chums since
they were babies, and were going to be married some day, perhaps. Fred
was a good, jolly fellow, he was well off, well-dressed, and quite the
leader of all the young men of the town. But now, for the first time,
her dauntless gay spirit was forsaking her, and a vision of how
inadequate Fred might be in time of stress was coming dimly to her
awakening woman's heart. She would almost rather have drowned than
play the coward. But she wanted Fred to be afraid for her. She was
more of a woman than she knew.

And then, just as a wave of fear was coming over her, Roderick McRae,
in his canoe, came out around the point and paddled straight towards
them.

She gave a cry of joyful relief. "A canoe! Oh, look, Fred!
Somebody's coming this way from McRae's cove!"

The young man turned with some apprehension mingling with his joy. He
would almost as soon be detected appropriating funds from the bank
where he clerked, as be caught in this ignominious plight. There was
just a slight sense of relief, however, for they had been a long time
in the water. But he would not admit that.

"Pshaw!" he grumbled. "I wish they'd waited a minute longer."

"Well, I don't!" cried his companion tremulously.

The boy looked across the canoe at her. Never, in the twenty years he
had known Leslie Graham intimately, had he before seen her daunted.

"What's up?" he demanded. "You're not losing your nerve, Leslie?"