changed his mind.

"Come on!" he whispered gruffly. "We'll chance our luck together. If
you open your head I'll brain you! Wait here a minute."

Job understood perfectly. He crept down to the lake shore at his
master's feet as quiet as a ghost. Seeing the loaded boat he hopped
delightedly into his accustomed place in the bow.

During June it never becomes wholly dark in the latitude of Lake
Miwasa. An exquisite dim twilight brooded over the wide water and the
pine-walled shore. The stars sparkled faintly in an oxidized silver
sea. There was no wind now, but the pines breathed like warm-blooded
creatures.

Ambrose's breast hummed like a violin to the bow of night. The poetic
feeling was there, though the expression was prosaic.

"By George, this is fine!" he murmured.

Job's curly tail thumped the gunwale in answer.

"I'm glad I brought you, old fel'," said Ambrose. "I expect I'd go
clean off my head if didn't have any one to talk to!"

Job beat a tattoo on the side of the boat and wriggled and whined in
his anxiety to reach his master.

"Steady there!" said Ambrose.