While they waited for the tug's appearance they hung off Heart o' Dreams shore, and the Governor and Archie paddled close enough to talk with Ruth at the wharf.
"Everything's all right," she reported cheerily. "The doctor is keeping Isabel in bed today but merely to rest. The bruised hand is doing nicely and will probably heal without a scar. The camp's running smoothly and the girls don't know that they ate our last bread and butter for luncheon."
"You're safe in putting cookies on the evening bill of fare," said the Governor. "Has Carey made any sign today?"
"No, except that I went through the woods this morning toward Calderville and found the road piled with logs there at the bridge over the little brook. I peeped through the barricade and saw some men with guns—"
"Don't you dare go near that place again!" exclaimed the Governor. "There's a good mile between that point and the camp boundaries and you have no business going off your reservation."
"How terribly you scold! I was just reconnoitering a little."
"That little might mean the end of the world! But it's worth while to know that you pout when you're scolded."
The hazards of the night had left no mark upon her, and in the khaki Heart o' Dreams uniform she would have passed for a carefree boy.
"You look shockingly young," the Governor remarked with mock resentment, as he fended the canoe away from the wharf. "It doesn't seem possible that a venerable relic like me would ever have any chance with a beautiful young goddess like you."
"Maybe you haven't!"