recollections leaped two sentences of his--the first careless,
imprudent, unforgivable; the second pregnant with meaning. "_Ah, a
star shoots!_" he had said. "_That means a kiss!_" and again, to the
clergyman, "_I came here without the slightest expectation of getting
what I asked for. There is another way, but I hate to use it._"

She was the other way! She saw it plainly. He did not love her, but he
saw that he could fascinate her, and he hoped to use her as an aid to
his escape. She threw her head up proudly.

Then a man swung into view across the Northern Lights. Virginia
pressed back against the palings among the bushes until he should
have passed. It was Ned Trent, returning from a walk to the end of the
island. He was alone and unfollowed, and the girl realized with a
sudden grip at the heart that the wilderness itself was sufficient
safe-guard against a man unarmed and unequipped. It was not considered
worth while even to watch him. Should he escape, unarmed as he was,
sure death by starvation awaited him in the land of dread.

As he entered the settlement he struck up an air.

_"Le fils du roi s'en va chassant,
En roulant ma boule,
Avec son grand fusil d'argent,
Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant."_

Almost immediately a window slid back, and an exasperated voice cried
out:

"_Hólà_ dere, w'at one time dam fool you for mak' de sing so late!"