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.
Nesis, landing, could not face his look. She flung up an arm over her eyes. "Ah, don't look so mad to me!" she faltered.
"God help us!" muttered Ambrose. "What will we do now?"
She sank down in a heap at his feet. "Don't, don't hate me or I die!"' she wailed.
It was impossible for him to remain angry with the forlorn little creature. He laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Get up," he said with a sigh. "I'm not blaming you. The question is—what are we going to do?"
She lifted her head. "I go with you," she whispered breathlessly. "I help you in the rapids. I bake bread for you. I watch at night."
He shook his head. "You've got to go back," he said sternly.