his old place beside the fire, he sank at the foot of one of the young beech trees that formed a part of the structure of her shelter near the head of her balsam bed.

“I know what you mean,” he said soothingly. “I felt it, too. The trouble is—there’s never any answer. They’d like to tell us many things—those people out there,” and he waved his hand. “They’d like to, but they can’t. It’s a pity, isn’t it? The sounds are cheerful, though. They say they’re the voyagers singing as they shoot the rapids.”

She watched his face narrowly, not doubtfully as she[29] had done earlier, but eagerly, as though seeking the other half of a thought which conformed to her own.

[29]

“I’m glad you heard,” she said quickly. “I thought I must have dreamed—which would have been strange, since I haven’t been asleep. It gives me a greater faith in myself. I haven’t been really frightened, I hope. Only filled with wonder that such things could be.”

“They can’t really, you know,” he drawled. “Some people never hear the voices.”

“I never did before.”

“The woods people hear them often. It means,” he said with a smile, “that you and I are initiated into the Immortal Fellowship.”

“Oh!” in a whisper, almost of awe.

“Yes,” he reassured her gaily, “you belong to the Clan of Mak-wa, the Bear, and Kee-way-din, the North-Wind. The trees are keeping watch. Nothing can harm you now.”

Her eyes lifted to his, and a hesitating smile suddenly wreathed her lips.

“You’re very comforting,” she said, in a doubtful tone which showed her far from comforted. “I really would try to believe you,” with a glance over her shoulder, “if it wasn’t for the menace of the silence when the voices stop.”

“The menace——”

“Yes. I can’t explain. It’s like a sudden hush of terror—as though the pulse of Nature had stopped beating—was waiting on some immortal decision.”

“Yes,” he assented quietly, his gaze on the fire. “I know. I felt that, too.”

“Did you? I’m glad. It makes me more satisfied.”

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