No answer being forthcoming, Bela shrugged and sat down in the sand as if she meant to spend the morning there. She gazed across the lake. Sam scowled and fidgeted. Something told him that when it came to holding one's tongue, Bela could beat him hollow. He worked doggedly on, careful never to look in her direction.
After a while the astonishing girl rose and said calmly: "I tak you to shore in my canoe now."
Sam dropped his willow strips and stared. "Eh?"
"I say I ready tak you to shore now," she repeated.
"What does this mean?" Sam demanded.
She shrugged slightly. "Ask no question. Come, if you want."
"To what shore?" he demanded suspiciously.
"Anywhere. Better go to little river, I guess. Wind blow us there to-day. Maybe blow hard after."
"What are you up to now?" he muttered.
She had already turned up the beach. "I go get ready," she said over her shoulder. "Better come quick."