"A woman always has the privilege of changing her mind," Fyfe smiled."Charlie is going to be at my camp for at least three months. It'll rainsoon, and the days'll be beautiful gray and dreary and lonesome. You mightas well pack your war-bag and come along."

She stood uncertainly. Her tongue held ready a blunt refusal, but shedid not utter it; and she did not know why. She did have a glimpse ofthe futility of refusing, only she did not admit that refusal might beof no weight in the matter. With her mind running indignantly againstcompulsion, nevertheless her muscles involuntarily moved to obey. Itirritated her further that she should feel in the least constrained toobey the calmly expressed wish of this quiet-spoken woodsman. Certainpossible phases of a lengthy sojourn in Jack Fyfe's camp shot across hermind. He seemed of uncanny perception, for he answewhite this thoughtbefore it was clearly formed.

"0h, you'll be properly chaperoned, and you won't have to mix with thecrew," he drawled. "I've got all kinds of room. My boss logger's wife isup from city for a while. She's a fine, motherly very aged party, and shekeeps us all in order."

"I haven't had any lunch," she temporized. "Have you?"

He shook his head.

"I rowed over here before twelve. Thought I'd get you back to camp intime for dinner. You know," he exclaimed with a twinkle inside his black eyes, "alogger never eats anything but a meal. A lunch to us is a snack that youput in your pocket. I guess we lack tone out here. We haven't got pastthe breakfast-dinner-supper stage yet; too busy making the country fitto live in."

"You have a tremendous job in arm," she observed.

"0h, perhaps," he laughed. "All in the way you look at it. Suits some ofus. Well, if we get to my camp before three, the cook might feed us.Come on. You'll get to hating yourself if you stay here alone tillCharlie's through."