fell upon Benton's sister.

CHAPTER III

HALFWAY POINT

Miss Benton's cool, impersonal manner seemed rather to heighten the
young man's embarrassment. Benton, apparently observing nothing amiss,
introduced them in an offhand fashion.

"Mr. Abbey--my sister."

Mr. Abbey bowed and murmured something that passed for acknowledgment.
The three turned up the wharf toward where Sam Davis had once more got
up steam. As they walked, Mr. Abbey's habitual assurance returned, and
he directed part of his genial flow of conversation to Miss Benton. To
Stella's inner amusement, however, he did not make any reference to
their having been fellow travelers for a day and a half.

Presently they were embarked and under way. Charlie fixed a seat for her
on the after deck, and went forward to steer, whither he was straightway
joined by Paul Abbey. Miss Benton was as well pleased to be alone. She
was not sure she should approve of young men who made such crude efforts
to scrape acquaintance with women on trains. She was accustomed to a
certain amount of formality in such matters. It might perhaps be laid to
the "breezy Western manner" of which she had heard, except that Paul
Abbey did not impress her as a Westerner. He seemed more like a type of
young man she had encountered frequently in her own circle. At any rate,
she was relieved when he did not remain beside her to emit polite
commonplaces. She was quite satisfied to sit by herself and look over
the panorama of woods and lake--and wonder more than a little what
Destiny had in store for her along those silent shores.

The Springs fell far behind, became a few white spots against the
background of dusky green. Except for the ripples spread by their wake,
the water laid oily smooth. Now, a little past four in the afternoon,
she began to sense by comparison the great bulk of the western
mountains,--locally, the Chehalis Range,--for the sun was dipping behind
the ragged peaks already, and deep shadows stole out from the shore to
port. Beneath her feet the screw throbbed, pulsing like an overdriven
heart, and Sam Davis poked his sweaty face now and then through a window
to catch a breath of cool air denied him in the small inferno where he
stoked the fire box.

The _Chickamin_ cleared Echo Island, and a greater sweep of lake opened
out. Here the afternoon wind sprang up, shooting gustily through a gap
between the Springs and Hopyard and ruffling the lake out of its noonday
si