mellowed by the widening space, Bates stepped into the boat, and,
pushing off, laboured alone to propel her back across the lake.

It took him longer to get back now that he was single-handed. The
current of the lake towards its outlet tended to push the great clumsy
scow against the shore. He worked his craft with one oar near the stern,
but very often he was obliged to drop it and push out from shore with
his pole. It was arduous, but all sense of the cold, bleak weather was
lost, and the interest and excitement of the task were refreshing. To
many men, as to many dogs, there is an inexplicable and unreasoning
pleasure in dealing with water that no operation upon land can yield.
Bates was one of these; he would hardly have chosen his present lot if
it had not been so; but, like many a dry character of his stamp, he did
not give his more agreeable sensations the name of pleasure, and
therefore could afford to look upon pleasure as an element unnecessary
to a sober life. Mid pushings and splashings, from the management of his
scow, from air and sky, hill and water, he was in reality, deriving as
great pleasure as any millionaire might from the sailing of a choice
yacht; but he was aware only that, as he neared the end of his double
journey, he felt in better trim in mind and body to face his lugubrious
and rebellious ward.

When, however, he had toiled round the black rock cliff which hid the
clearing from the river's head, and was again in full sight of his own
house, all remembrance of the girl and his dread of meeting her passed
from him in his excessive surprise at seeing several men near his
dwelling. His dog was barking and leaping in great excitement. He heard
the voices of other dogs. It took but the first glance to show him that
the men were not Indians. Full of excited astonishment he pushed his
boat to the shore.