where the river was--now his arm, now his head, now the
breadth of his shoulders. This silhouette of him was dear to her, the
sound of his movements, the faint stir of his breathing borne to her
on the light breeze. Virginia's tender heart almost overflowed with
longing and fear for him.

They emerged on a little slope and at once pushed the canoe into the
current.

She accepted the aid of his hand for a moment, and sank to her place,
facing him. He spurned lightly the shore, and so they were adrift.

In a moment they seemed to be floating on a vast vapor of night,
infinitely remote from anywhere, surrounded by the silence that might
have been before the world's beginning. A faint splash could have been
a muskrat near at hand or a caribou far away. The paddle rose and
dipped with a faint _swish, swish_, and the steersman's twist of it
was taken up by the man's strong wrist so it did not click against the
gunwale; the bow of the craft divided the waters with a murmuring so
faint as to seem but the echo of a silence. Neither spoke. Virginia
watched him, her heart too full for words; watched the full swing of
his strong shoulders, the balance of his body at the hips, the poise
of his head against the dull sky. In a moment more the parting would
have to come. She dreaded it, and yet she looked forward to it with a
hungry joy. Then he would say what she had seen in his eyes; then he
would speak; then she would hear the words that should comfort her in
the days of waiting. For a woman lives much for the present, and the
moment's word is an important thing.

The man swung his paddle steadily, throwing into the strokes a wanton
exuberance that showed how high his spirits ran. After a time, when
they were well out from the shore, he took a deep breath of delight.

"Ah, you don't know how happy I am," he exulted, "you don't know! To
be free, to play the game, to match my wits against theirs--ah, that
is life!"

"I am sorry to see you go," she murmured, "very sorry. The days will
be full of terror until I know you are safe."

"Oh, yes," he answered; "but I'll get there, and I shall tell it all
to you at Quebec--at Quebec in August. It will be a brave tale! You
will be there--surely?"

"Yes," said the girl, softly; "I will be there--surely."

"Good! Feel the wind on your cheek? It is from the Southland, where I
am going. I have ventured--and I have not lost! It is something not to
lose, when one has ventured against man