Chapter XVII. The Love of Poleon Doret

To the girl crouching at the stern of Runnion's boat it seemed as if this day and night would never end. It seemed as if the procession of natural events must have ceased, that there was no longer any time, for she had been suffering steadily for hours and hours without end, and began to wonder dreamily whether she had not skipped a day in her reckoning between the time when she first heard of the strike on her claim and this present moment. It occurred to her that she was a rich girl now in her own right, and she smiled her crooked smile, as she reflected that the thing she had longed for without hope of attainment had come with confusing swiftness, and had left her unhappier than ever....

Would the day never come? She pulled the rugs up closer about her as the morning chill made her shiver. She found herself keeping mechanical count with the sound of the sweeps--they must be making good speed, she thought, and the camp must be miles behind now. Had it been earlier in the season, when the river ran full of drift, they never could have gone thus in the dark, but the water was low and the chances of collision so remote as to render blind travel safe. Even yet she could not distinguish her oarsman, except as a black bulk, for it had been a lowering night and the approaching dawn failed to break through the blanket of cloud that hung above the great valley. He was a good boatman, however, as she gathered from the tireless regularity of his strokes. He was a silent man, too, and she was grateful for that. She snuggled down into her blanket and tried to sleep, but she only dozed for a minute, it seemed, to find her eyes fly wide open again. So, restless and tired of her lonely vigil, she gave a premonitory cough, and said to her companion:

"You must be tired rowing so steadily?"

"Oh, I don't mind it," he replied.

At the sound of his voice she sat bolt upright. It couldn't be--if this were Runnion he would have spoken before! She ventured again, tremulously:

"Have you any idea what time it is?"

"About three o'clock. I fancy."

"Who are you?" The question came like a shot.

"Don't you know?"

"What are you doing here, Mr. Runnion?"

"I'm rowing," he answered, carelessly.

"Why didn't you speak?" A vague feeling of uneasiness came over her, a suspicion that all was not right, so she waited for him to explain, and when he did not, she repeated her question. "What made you keep still so long? You knew who I was?"

"Well, it's the first time I ever took you on a midnight row, and I wanted to enjoy it."

The mockery in his voice quickened her apprehension. Of a sudden the fear of being misjudged impelled her to end this flight that had become so distasteful in a moment, preferring to face the people at the post