"Then eat! There are one or two little things I want to attend to, if you will excuse me."
"Certainly," she replied laughingly. "It will be less embarrassing if there is no witness of my gluttony."
Stane once more left the camp, taking with him a hatchet, and presently returned dragging with him branches of young spruce with which he formed a bed a little way from the tent, and within the radius of the heat from the fire. On this he threw a blanket, and his preparation for the night completed, turned to the girl once more.
"I never enjoyed a meal so much in my life," she declared, as she lifted the tin plate from her lap. "And this coffee is delicious. Won't you have some, Mr. Stane?"
"Thank you, Miss a—Miss——"
"Yardely is my name," she said quickly, "Helen Yardely." He took the coffee as she handed it to him in an enamelled mug, then he said: "How did you come to be adrift, Miss Yardely?"
As he asked the question a thoughtful look came on the girl's beautiful face.
"I was making a little trip by myself," she said slowly, "to see a beaver dam in a creek a little below our encampment, and some one shot at me!"
"Shot at you!" Stane stared at her in amazement as he gave the exclamation.
"Yes, twice! The second shot broke my paddle, and as I had no spare one, and as I cannot swim, I could do nothing but drift with the current."