“Like old times, old fel’!” he said to his dumb partner.

Job’s tail thumped on the gunwale.  Ambrose contended that at night Job purposely turned stern formost to the most convenient hard object that his signals might be audible.

“To-night is ours anyway, old fel’,” said Ambrose.  “Let’s enjoy it while we can.  The worst is yet to come!”

It was many a day since Job had heard this jocular note in his master’s voice.  He wriggled a little and whined in his eagerness to reach him.  Job knew better than to attempt to move much in the bark canoe.

In due course the miracle of dawn was enacted on the river.  The world stole out of the dark like a woman wan with watching.  First the line of tree-tops on either bank became blackly silhouetted against the graying sky, then little by little the masses of trees and bushes resolved into individuals.

Perspective came into being, afterward atmosphere, and finally color.  The scene was as cool and delicate as that presented to a diver on the floor of the sea.  As the light increased it was as if he mounted into shallower water toward the sun.

The first distinctive note of color was the astonishing green of the goosegrass springing in the mud left by the falling water; then the current itself became a rich, brown with creamy flakes of foam sailing down like little vessels.  While Ambrose looked, the world blossomed from a pale nun into a ruddy matron.

With the rising of the sun the need of sleep began to afflict him.  He had thought he never would need sleep again.  His paddle became leaden in his hands, and Olympian yawns prostrated him.

He did not wish to take the time to sleep as yet, but he resolved to stimulate his flagging energies with bread and hot tea.

Landing on a point of stones, he built a fire, and hung his little copper pot over it.  The sight of everything he had been provided with brought the thought of Nesis sharply home again, and sobered him.

Here was everything a traveler might require, even including two extra pairs of moccasins, worked, he was sure, by herself.  “How can I ever repay her?” he thought uncomfortably.

Job was gyrating madly up and down the beach to express his joy at their deliverance.  Ambrose was aroused from a drowsy contemplation of the fire by an urgent bark from the dog.

Looking up, he was frozen with astonishment to behold another bark canoe sweeping around the bend above.  When motion returned to him, his hand instinctively shot out toward the gun.  But there was only one figure.  It was a woman—­it was Nesis!

Ambrose dropped the gun and, jumping up, swore helplessly under his breath.  He stared at the oncoming boat, fascinated with perplexity.

During the few seconds between his first sight of it and its grounding at his feet, the complications bound to follow on her coming presented themselves with a horrible clearness.  His face turned grim.