Scrambling over a limestone wall tufted thick with parsley fern, he
noticed Mabel stooping over an object which lay among the heather where a
rough cartroad approached a wooden bridge. On joining her he saw that she
was examining a finely-built canoe with a hole in one bilge. She looked
up at him ruefully.

"It's sad, isn't it? That stupid Little did it with his clumsy cart."

"I think it could be mended," Vane replied.

"Old Beavan--he's the wheelwright--said it couldn't; and Dad said I could
hardly expect him to send the canoe back to Kingston. He bought it for me
at an exhibition."

Then a thought seemed to strike her and her eyes grew eager.

"Perhaps you had something to do with light canoes in Canada?"

"Yes; I used to pole one loaded with provisions up a river and carry the
lot round several falls. If I remember, I made eight shillings a day at
it, and I think I earned it. You're fond of paddling?"

"I love it! I used to row the fishing-punt, but it's too old to be safe;
and now that the canoe's smashed I can't go out at all."

"Well, we'll walk across and see what we can find in Beavan's shop."

He took a few measurements, making them on a stick, and they crossed the
heath to a tiny hamlet nestling in a hollow of a limestone crag. There