“Tied to my creel—over there,” and she pointed, “and a small package of tea and some biscuits. I take my own lunch when I fish. I didn’t eat any to-day.”

“Wonderful! A saucepan! I was wondering how—tied to your creel, you say?” and he started off rapidly in the direction of the spot where he had found her.

“And please b-bring my rod—and—and my shoe,” she cried.

He nodded and was off through the brush, finding the place without difficulty. It was a very tiny saucepan, which would hold at the most two cupfuls of liquid, but it[15] would serve. He hurried back eagerly, anxious to complete his arrangements for the meal, and found her propped up against the back log, his creel beside her, industriously preparing the fish.

[15]

“How did you get over there?” he asked.

“Crawled. I couldn’t abide just sitting. I feel a lot better already.”

“That was very imprudent,” he said quickly. “We’ll never get out of here until you can use that foot.”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that,” demurely. “I’ll try to be careful. Did you bring my shoe—and legging?”

He held them out for her inspection.

“You’d better not try to put them on—not to-night, anyway. To-morrow, perhaps——”

“To-morrow!” She looked up at him, and then at the frames of the lean-to, as though the thought that she must spend the night in the woods had for the first time occurred to her. A deep purple shadow was crawling slowly up from the eastward and only the very tops of the tallest trees above them were catching the warm light of the declining sun. The woods were dimmer now and distant trees which a moment ago had been visible were merged in shadow. Some of the birds, too, were beginning to trill their even-song.

“Yes,” he went on, “you see it’s getting late. There’s hardly a chance of any one finding us to-night. But we’re going to make out nicely. If you really insist on cleaning those fish——”

“I do—and on making some tea——”

“Then I must get the stuff for your bed before it’s too dark to see.”

He filled the saucepan with water at 

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