"But I surely heard a lady's voice," said the youth.

"You did. It was my daughter's voice, and it was she who suggested that
you had swum around the bend. And she sent me over here to investigate."

"Oh, your daughter. Excuse me," said the youth. "I shall be out in a few
minutes." He slid into the tent, and did not reappear.

The man remained chatting with the youth's father for a few minutes,
then rising said,

"Well, I feel better. I confess this thing gave me something of a shock.
But come round and see us before we go. We shall be leaving in an hour."

The man at the fire promised to make the visit, and the other took his
departure.

A few minutes later the youth reappeared.

"Is breakfast ready?" he cried. "My, but I'm hungry! But who is he,
dad?"

"Sit down," said his father, "and get your breakfast while it is hot."

"But who is he, dad?" persisted the youth.

"Who is he?" said his father, dishing up the bacon. "An oil explorer,
an artist, a capitalist, an American from Pittsburgh, the father of one
child, a girl. Her mother is dead. Nineteen years old, athletic, modern