Audrey caught her breath; then gazed, reassured, at the five yards of
water between her and the bank. Had Hugon stood there in his hunting
dress, she would have felt them no security; but he was wearing his coat
and breeches of fine cloth, his ruffled shirt, and his great black
periwig. A wetting would not be to his mind.

As she answered not, but went on her way, silent now, and with her slender
figure bending with the motion of the pole, he frowned and shrugged; then
took up his pilgrimage, and with his light and swinging stride kept
alongside of the boat. The ribbon lay across his arm, and he turned it in
the sunshine. "If you come not and get it," he wheedled, "I will throw it
in the water."

The angry tears sprang to Audrey's eyes. "Do so, and save me the trouble,"
she answered, and then was sorry that she had spoken.

The red came into the swarthy cheeks of the man upon the bank. "You love
me not," he said. "Good! You have told me so before. But here I am!"

"Then here is a coward!" said Audrey. "I do not wish you to walk there. I
do not wish you to speak to me. Go back!"

Hugon's teeth began to show. "I go not," he answered, with something
between a snarl and a smirk. "I love you, and I follow on your path,--like
a lover."

"Like an Indian!" cried the girl.

The arrow pierced the heel. The face which he turned upon her was the face
of a savage, made grotesque and horrible, as war-paint and feathers could