"What are YOU doing here, Mr. Runnion?"
"I'm rowing," he answered, carelessly.
"Why didn't you speak?" A vague feeling of uneasiness came over her, a suspicion that all was not right, so she waited for him to explain, and when he did not, she repeated her question. "What made you keep still so long? You knew who I was?"
"Well, it's the first time I ever took you on a midnight row, and I wanted to enjoy it."
The mockery in his voice quickened her apprehension. Of a sudden the fear of being misjudged impelled her to end this flight that had become so distasteful in a moment, preferring to face the people at the post rather than continue her journey with this man.
"I've changed my mind, Mr. Runnion," she said. "I don't want to go down to the Mission. I want you to take me back."
"Can't do it," he said; "the current is too swift."
"Then set me ashore and I'll walk back. It can't be far to town."
"Twenty-five miles. We've been out about three hours." He kept on rowing steadily, and although the distance they had gone frightened her, she summoned her courage to say:
"We can make that easily enough. Come, run in to the bank."