He flung himself down beside her, and laid his head where she bid. Her breath was warm on his cheek. He slipped his over-heavy burden, and glided into Paradise for awhile.
"My brave, brave Garth," she whispered in his ear. "All my heart is yours! I thought about this last night—every time I woke. I thought we might steal one such moment. I thought, what if something happened to you, or to me, and we had never known it!"
She tried to tempt him to sleep a while, but Garth, fearful of tiring her, and with his responsibilities pressing on him, drew himself away. He arose, better refreshed, he vowed, than by all the nights of sleep he had ever had in his life.
As he rose, their lips met, once and briefly.
Garth's first task after breakfast was to clear the growth of willows that obstructed their access to the lake. The little island was framed squarely in the centre of the opening made by his axe; and off to the left, across an estuary formed at the mouth of the watercourse, Mabyn's shack stood on top of its cut-bank in plain view.
At sight of the convenient island, Garth was struck by an idea. He examined it attentively. It lay something less than a quarter of a mile off shore; and a triangle might have been drawn between his camp, the island and Mabyn's shack, of which the three sides would have been of about equal length. The island was about three acres in extent; and completely ringed about with willow bushes. In the centre, two or three cottonwood trees elevated their heads above the willows.
Later, he asked Natalie casually: "Could Mabyn swim, when you knew him, do you remember?"
"He could not," she said instantly. "In fact he had a childish horror of the water."
Garth turned his head to hide his satisfaction; and his plan began to take shape.