Willard smiled again in ghastly humor. At least, there was one obstacle the less. She had not written! But his ill-timed mirth changed quickly to a snarl; for Guess had interpreted this angry scene in his own way, and was ready to begin a fray already postponed unduly.
“Can’t you beat off this damned dog?” came the cry. “Let us go into the house, and tell the cur to stop outside.”
Once again was Nancy prompted to fire the signal that would bring Power in hot haste to her side; but she repressed the notion, deeming herself calmer now, more assured, more confident in the justice of her cause and her ability to set it forth convincingly. Indeed, her bewildered brain was actively at work already devising means whereby Derry and her father should be kept apart. She did not want them to quarrel beyond redemption. Time, she hoped and believed, would assuage present bitterness, and, if the gods were kind, the coming years might find the older man in a mood to yield to other claims on his forgiveness.
“Lie down, Guess!” she said, patting the dog’s head. “Just curl up there in the sun. Yes, that’s a dear! Lie down!”
Guess did not curl up; but stretched himself on the grass in front of the door, resting his head between his paws, and keeping a pair of particularly bright eyes fixed on Willard. He would have treated a tame snake or a performing bear in much the same way, if so bidden by someone whom he trusted.
Father and daughter entered the cabin, which was all of a jumble owing to the cleansing operations. Nancy unloaded the gun—why, she hardly knew, because that was the first thing Derry would attend to when he returned. Placing the weapon on the table, she essayed a forlorn smile at the disorder the place was in.
“Derry and Peter have gone to the hotel for stores,” she said, “and I took the opportunity to tidy our small castle.”
“I saw them crossing the lake,” said Willard. “I have been waiting two days for the chance that offered this morning. You see, Nancy, you and I had to thresh out matters between our two selves. When all is said and done, the future concerns us far more than any other person.”
Nancy looked across the lake. There was no sign of the canoe, and she was glad of it.
“Now, Dad,” she said, tuning her utterance to a softer key in valiant endeavor to place their relations on a friendly footing, “I hope you will try and think less harshly of Derry and me. What is done cannot be undone——”