astily spoken words, so I continued to pull steadily at
the heavy oars, not seeing clearly how best to conquer myself, confess
my former mistake, and advise retreat. Fortunately a stronger
influence than false pride urged me to action. Marking again how sadly
Eloise drooped her sobered face above the water, it put the heart of a
man in me to acknowledge my error, offering such amends as were still
possible.

It seems simple enough, yet it was not so small a struggle, nor did I
fully win the battle over stubbornness until the gray of evening began
wrapping about us hazy folds of cloud, the time coming when we must
seek suitable night camp. It was then I found tongue, even while
glancing across my shoulder, through the shadows, searching for a
landing-place. As if all this were yesterday, I recall the scene.
Everything swam in the gray haze, which, settling across the water,
shut off from view much of the land. We were nearly abreast of where a
smaller stream came leaping down from the right to hurl its clear
current far out into the muddy river. So rapid was this discharge, the
waters about us were thrown into turmoil, tossing our boat like a cork,
causing Madame to grasp the rail nervously. Its narrow mouth was
partially concealed by overhanging shrubbery, so we were well within
the sweep of its invading waters before I could conjecture the force
with which it came. Through the dim light, confusing to the eyes, I
sought to peer ahead. The hills, huddled much closer to the shore,
appeared rough in their rocky outlines, while the heavy underbrush,
clinging tightly to the water-side, offered nothing in the way of a
suitable camping-spot. Beyond the tumultuous sweep of this northern
tributary, however, I discovered a considerable patch of grass,
overshadowed by giant trees, and there I made selection of the spot
which should complete our upward voyage.

"Steer us in toward yonder green bank, Madame," I called to Eloise,
"where you see that group of trees through the fog. God willing, it
shall prove our last camp before we turn east and south once more."

It did my heart good to observe the sudden brightening of her face at
these words of promise, as if they came in direct answer to prayer. I
understood then how weary she was with our toll, how cruel I had been
to hold her so long at it. She had given utterance to no complaint;
even now, it was not her voice which welcomed my decision. It was the
Chevalier,