"Yes," said Nellie dubiously. "But you told me once--the first time we
ever talked together," she added, looking in his eyes--"something about
your keeping your things like a squirrel in a tree. Could we not
go there? Is there not room for us to sit and talk without being
brow-beaten and looked down upon by these supercilious trees?"

"It's too far away," said Low truthfully, but with a somewhat pronounced
emphasis, "much too far for you just now; and it lies on another trail
that enters the wood beyond. But come, I will show you a spring known
only to myself, the wood ducks, and the squirrels. I discovered it the
first day I saw you, and gave it your name. But you shall christen it
yourself. It will be all yours, and yours alone, for it is so hidden and
secluded that I defy any feet but my own or whoso shall keep step with
mine to find it. Shall that foot be yours, Nellie?"

Her face beamed with a bright assent. "It may be difficult to track it
from here," he said, "but stand where you are a moment, and don't move,
rustle, nor agitate the air in any way. The woods are still now." He
turned at right angles with the trail, moved a few paces into the ferns
and underbrush, and then stopped with his finger on his lips. For an
instant both remained motionless; then with his intent face bent forward
and both arms extended, he began to sink slowly upon one knee and one
side, inclining his body with a gentle, perfectly-graduated movement
until his ear almost touched the ground. Nellie watched his graceful
figure breathlessly, until, like a bow unbent, he stood suddenly erect
again, and beckoned to her without changing the direction of his face.

"What is it?" she asked eagerly.