"Yes, I know," Barbara interrupted. "I haven't tried. I confess it."
"There is not a moment to lose," Wolf urged. "We are entering on the most wonderful development in the history of the human race. The only thing lacking for its triumphant achievement is faith and leadership. Secure from our young dreamer the title to this island and you will achieve an immortal deed—you will not hesitate or fail?"
"No," was the firm answer. "I will not fail. I'm going with him to-day on a mountain climb. Just for fun, if for nothing else, I'll test my power."
"You'll report to me the moment you return?" Wolf urged.
"Yes," she answered, dreamily.
Norman found Barbara in a mood resistlessly charming. She seemed to have utterly forgotten that she was grown up or had ever been the herald of a revolutionary cause. She was a laughing girl of eighteen again, with the joy of youth sparkling in her eyes and laughter ringing in every accent of her voice.
Instantly the mood of the man reflected hers. He threw to the winds the cares and worries of the great adventure that had brought them together, and the island of Ventura became the enchanted isle of song and story.
"We shall be just two children to-day—shall we not?" she asked.
"Yes," he responded gaily, "two children who have run away from school, tired of books, with hearts hungry for the breath of the fields."
For half an hour hill and dale rang with laughter as they ascended the path of the brook. They came to a wide expanse of still water. And Norman said with a bantering laugh: