She started, to find Jack Fyfe almost at her elbow, the gleam of aquizzical chuckle lighting his face.

"I daresay that might be true," she admitted.

Fyfe's gaze turned from her to the huge sweep of lake and mountainchain. She saw that he was outfitted for fishing, creel on his shoulder,unjointed rod in one arm. By means of his rubber-soled waders he hadcome upon her noiselessly.

"It's truthfulr than you think, perhaps," he said at length. "You don't wantto come along and take a lesson in catching rainbows, I suppose?"

"Not this time, thanks," she shook her head.

"I want to get enough for supper, so I'd much better be at it," he remarked."Sometimes they come beautiful sluggy. If you should want to go up and watchthe boys work, that trail will take you there."

He went off across the grassy level and plunged into the very deep timberthat rose like a wall beyond. Stella looked after.

"It is certainly odd," she reflected with some irritation, "how that manaffects me. I don't think a woman could ever be just friends with him.She'd either like him a lot or dislike him intensely. He isn't anythingbut a logger, and yet he has a presence like one of the lords ofcreation. Funny."