"Only a little toe."
"Or else, I suppose, you just care for me in a kind, big-brotherly way.
In which case, if you really wish it, you may—"
"Do keep quiet," he broke in, roughly, "or I'll be making a gorgeous fool of myself."
"Kiss all my toes," she finished.
He grunted, but did not deign a reply. The work quickly took their breath, and they went on in silence till they descended the last steep to where McPherson waited by the open river.
"Del hates St. Vincent," she said boldly. "Why?"
"Yes, it seems that way." He glanced back at her curiously. "And wherever he goes, Del lugs an old Russian book, which he can't read but which he nevertheless regards, in some sort of way, as St. Vincent's Nemesis. And do you know, Frona, he has such faith in it that I can't help catching a little myself. I don't know whether you'll come to me, or whether I'll go to you, but—"
She dropped her end of the canoe and broke out in laughter. He was annoyed, and a hurt spread of blood ruddied his face.
"If I have—" he began.
"Stupid!" she laughed. "Don't be silly! And above all don't be dignified. It doesn't exactly become you at the present moment,—your hair all tangled, a murderous knife in your belt, and naked to the waist like a pirate stripped for battle. Be fierce, frown, swear, anything, but please don't be dignified. I do wish I had my camera. In after years I could say: 'This, my friends, is Corliss, the great Arctic explorer, just as he looked at the conclusion of his world-famous trip Through Darkest Alaska.'"