ver in a canoe, for I want them to guess at where I
strike the woods. I shall cover my trail. And with ten hours' start,
let them catch Ned Trent who can!"

She laughed happily.

"To-night, then. At the south of the island there is a trail, and at
the end of the trail a beach--"

"I know!" he cried.

"Meet me there as soon after dark as you can do so without danger."

He threw his hat into the air and caught it, his face boyishly
upturned. Again that something, so vaguely familiar, plucked at her
with its ghostly, appealing fingers. She turned swiftly, and seized
them, and so found herself in possession of a memory out of her
far-off childhood.

"I know you!" she cried. "I have seen you before this!"

He bent his puzzled gaze upon her.

"I was a very little girl," she explained, "and you but a lad. It was
at a party, I think, a great and brilliant party, for I remember many
beautiful women and fine men. You held me up in your arms for people
to see, because I was going on a long journey."

"I remember, of course I do!" he exclaimed.

A bell clanged, turning over and over, calling the Company's men to
their day.

"Farewell," she said, hurriedly. "To-night."

"To-night," he repeated.

She glided rapidly through the grass, noiseless in her moccasined
feet. And as she went she heard his voice humming soft and low,

"_Isabeau s'y promene
Le long de son jardin,
Le long de son jardin,
Sur le bord de l'ile,
Le long de son jardin_."

"How could he _help_ singing," murmured Virginia, fondly. "Ah, dear
Heaven, but I am the happiest girl alive!"

Such a difference can one night bring about.

_Chapter Twelve_

The day rose and flooded the land with its fuller life. All through
the settlement the Post Indians and half-breeds set about their tasks.
Some aided Sarnier with his calking of the bateaux; some worked in the
fields; some mended or constructed in the different shops. At eight
o'clock the bell rang again, and they ate breakfast. Then a group of
seven, armed with muzzle-loading "trade-guns" bound in brass, set out
for the marshes in hopes of geese. For the flight was arriving, and
the Hudson Bay man knows very well the flavor of goose-flesh, smoked,
salted, and barrelled.

Now the _voyageurs_ began to stroll into the sun. They were men of
leisure. Picturesque, handsome, careless, debonair, they wandered back
and forth, smoking their cigarettes, exhibiting their finery. Ind