"Why the delay, though?" she reverted to the point. "I thought you were
all ready to go."

"I am," Charlie enlightened. "But while I was at the store just now,
Paul Abbey 'phoned from Vancouver to know if there was an up-lake boat
in. His people are big lumber guns here, and it will accommodate him and
won't hurt me to wait a couple of hours and drop him off at their camp.
I've got more or less business dealings with them, and it doesn't hurt
to be neighborly. He'd have to hire a gas-boat otherwise. Besides,
Paul's a pretty good head."

This, of course, being strictly her brother's business, Stella forbore
comment. She was weary of travel, tired with the tension of eternally
being shunted across distances, anxious to experience once more that
sense of restful finality which comes with a journey's end. But, in a
measure her movements were no longer dependent upon her own volition.

They walked slowly along the broad roadway which bordered the lake until
they came to a branchy maple, and here they seated themselves on the
grassy turf in the shadow of the tree.

"Tell me about yourself," she said. "How do you like it here, and how
are you getting on? Your letters home were always chiefly remarkable for
their brevity."

"There isn't a great lot to tell," Benton responded. "I'm just beginning
to get on my feet. A raw, untried youngster has a lot to learn and
unlearn when he hits this tall timber. I've been out here five years,
and I'm just beginning to realize what I'm equal to and what I'm not.