Through the great network of branches of maples, birches, and other trees the light of a new day sifted down upon a little lake about a mile back from the settlement. Dane Norwood woke from a sound sleep and looked out over the water. He was in no hurry to rise, as he felt very comfortable lying there on his bed of fir boughs wrapped in his warm blanket. About half way up the lake several wild ducks were feeding among the weeds and rushes, unconscious of any danger. To these Dane paid little attention. He was waiting for larger game, and his eyes and ears were keenly alert to the one sound and sight which would electrify him into immediate action.
His mind naturally turned to the previous evening when he had sat with the Colonel and his daughter before the big fire-place. The vision of the girl's face, lighted by the dancing flames, stood out before him clear and distinct. How her eyes had shone as, urged by the Colonel, he related story after story of adventures in the heart of the untamed forest among Indians, slashers, and wild beasts. The time had passed all too quickly, and when he at length rose to leave, the Colonel offered him the use of his tent near the cabin. But Dane had reluctantly declined. He had his own camping-outfit on the shore of the lake, where he had left gun, blanket, and a small supply of food that afternoon. He did not mind the walk through the forest, dark though it was. He was more at home in the woodland ways than on city streets. His was the instinct of the wild, and he travelled more by intuition than by sight.
There was another reason why he wished to camp by the lake. He correctly surmised that the food supply at the settlement was getting low. The men were not hunters, and although supplied with guns, they had made little use of them in obtaining game from the surrounding hills, considering them chiefly as weapons of defence in case of attack. With Dane, however, it was different. To him the forests and streams were Nature's great larder, filled with all manner of good things.
As he lay there thinking of the girl at the settlement, the morning light strengthened, and the trees along the eastern shore threw out long uneven shadows upon the water. Not a ripple ruffled the mirror-like surface, except those caused by the feeding ducks. Dane's special attention was directed to a spot on the western shore which he had carefully examined the day before. From the newly-made foot-prints he knew that this was a favourite resort of moose, deer, and caribou where they came to drink and to wallow in the mud. And in this he was not mistaken, for as he patiently waited, the great antlered-head of a bull moose suddenly emerged from the forest. The lordly animal paused for a few seconds and looked around. Dane was fully alert now. With his gun resting across a fallen log, he trained his eye along the smooth dark barrel. Then as the moose stepped forward and its right side was presented to view, he pulled the trigger. The loud report resounded through the silent forest reaches, and sent the ducks scurrying wildly out of the water. With a snort of pain and surprise the moose threw back its great head, lifted its fore feet from the ground, reeled for an instant, and crashed over on its side, a huge bulk of quivering, lifeless flesh.
Half an hour later Dane was speeding toward the settlement, carrying a choice piece of meat suspended from a stout stick across his right shoulder. He surprised Mammy in the act of preparing the fire for breakfast as he approached with noiseless steps, and held the meat before her.
"Oh, Lo'd, how yo' did scare me!" she exclaimed, straightening herself up, and looking at the young man. "I'se as weak as a chicken, an' my bref's almos' gone. I was sure yo' was an Injun or a tager jumpin' at me."
Dane smiled as he laid the meat upon a log, and drew forth his sharp sheath knife.
"I am sorry I frightened you," he apologised. "But a piece of this will give you new strength. You get the frying-pan ready while I carve a few slices. I am going to help you get breakfast this morning. We will give the Colonel and Miss Sterling a great surprise."
And surprised father and daughter certainly were when at length they came out of the house and saw the nicely-browned slices of steak lying in the frying-pan.
"So this is what you have been up to, young man," the Colonel smilingly remarked. "I understand now why you refused to remain here last night. Is this moose or deer steak?"
"Moose, and there is plenty more where this came from. I am astounded that you have not been feasting upon game before this, as the forest is full of birds and animals."
"I am afraid that we are poor hunters," the Colonel replied. "I, at any rate, know very little about woodland ways."
"Then I shall teach you," Dane declared. "But first of all, I want you to try this steak. Then we must get the men to go with me to bring in that moose. It will not do to leave it long out there. If we do, the bears and other animals will soon finish it."
Jean said very little during breakfast, leaving her father and Dane to do most of the talking. But her heart was happy and light. To her this visitor was more than an ordinary man. She was of an impressionable nature, and naturally surrounded Dane Norwood with the glamour of romance. His buoyant, free-from-care manner, and the roving life he led thrilled and enthralled her very soul. To her he was the living embodiment of valiant knights and princes who figured in tales she had heard and read, especially those of the Arthurian Legends. Malory's "Morte d'Arthur," notwithstanding its quaint language and quainter pictures, had so enkindled her mind that she herself at times had seemed the heroine in many a stirring scene. It was largely due to these impressions that she relished the life in the wilderness, and looked upon the King's courier as a hero of more than ordinary mettle.
Breakfast over, the Colonel summoned the men of the settlement, and, guided by Dane, they went at once to the lake after the moose. Jean obtained her father's permission to accompany them, and she thoroughly enjoyed the trip. The men were like a crowd of boys just out of school, and the forest resounded with laughter and animated talk. The prospect of an abundance of game during the fall and winter elevated their spirits, and made them forget the days and weeks when food had been scarce. To them Dane was a Godsend, and they took him to their hearts and made him as one of themselves. That he and the Colonel's daughter were in love with each other they were not slow in learning. But there was no rude chaffing as the two walked a little apart from the rest. They were men noble enough to respect the sacredness of a first great love.
There was much rejoicing among the women and children when the men returned to the settlement with the moose. It had been skinned and carefully divided. Some carried their portions, while others bore theirs suspended on poles from shoulder to shoulder. Thus for the first time since leaving their old homes did the exiles have a sufficient supply of meat.
A new life now pervaded the settlement. During the following days and weeks the men roamed the forest-clad hills and valleys in search of game. Directed by Dane, they soon became quite skilful hunters, especially the Colonel, who was never happier than when out in the woods. Then around the big camp-fire at night, the men would relate their thrilling and humorous experiences during the day.
This was a pleasant time for Dane. He had shifted his camping-place from the lake to the shore of the creek, and here he had built for himself a small abode, covering the roof and sides with wide strips of birch bark to keep out the rain. He was very skilful at such work, and a happy afternoon it was for him when he first showed Jean his finished cabin. They had come by water, and the bow of the canoe was resting upon the shore. It was here that they had met three weeks before, and under the big maple Dane had erected his little building. The tree had put on its scarlet bunting, and touched by the bright September sun, glowed its welcome to the young lovers.
Jean examined the cabin most carefully, and her admiration was unbounded.
"I think it is splendid!" she enthusiastically exclaimed. "You never told me anything about it."
"I wanted to surprise you," Dane explained. "I have been so busy with other things that I have had little time to work here, so only finished it a few days ago."
"And will you live here all the time?" Jean eagerly asked.
The young man smiled as he looked fondly upon the girl's animated face and sparkling eyes. Then he shook his head.
"I wish I could live here, Jean. But I have a dozen such cabins in various places, and I must spend some time in them during the coming winter. They are my stopping-places, you see, when I am carrying messages for Davidson. No doubt he is very angry now at my long absence, so I shall have to go away in a day or two."
"But you will come back soon, will you not?"
"Do you really want me to come back soon?" Dane asked.
"W-why certainly," the girl stammered, while her face suddenly flushed. "I hope you will use this cabin often."
"I will make it larger and stay here all the time, if you want me to."
"Oh, will you? How nice that would be."
"But only if you will stay with me."
"Oh!" It was all that Jean could say, for his meaning was now quite clear. Her eyes dropped, and her body slightly trembled.
Impulsively Dane reached out and took both of her hands in his.
"You know what I mean, Jean," he said. "Surely you know how I love you."
Receiving no reply, he drew her quickly to him, and kissed her upon the lips. Startled and embarrassed, she made a faint effort to free herself, but strong arms held her firm.
"Don't! Don't!" she gasped, while the rich blood crimsoned her face. "You have no right to do this."
"I have the right of love," Dane contended, as he again kissed her. "I love you, and I know that you love me."
Jean made no further protest. Notwithstanding her confusion, she was supremely happy. Although often wooed, she had never before submitted to a lover's kiss, nor allowed his arms to encircle her. But now it was different. She loved this man as she once thought it impossible to love any one, and she knew that he loved her. His strength and masterfulness appealed to her, and made her a willing victim. She could not deny it, neither did she wish to do so. She was content to give herself up wholly and unreservedly to her conquering hero.
And as the two stood silently there, the lordly maple seemed to reach out its great branches over their young united heads and beam its happy benediction. The ubiquitous squirrels appeared to know that something unusual was taking place. They cocked their shrewd little heads in a listening attitude, stared impudently, and then sent the news abroad to their feathered and furry comrades of the forest. Of all this, however, the lovers were unconscious, so lost were they in their new-found joy.
"I never realised that you cared so much for me," Jean at length whispered. "When did you begin to love me?"
"From the first time I saw you by that shack at Portland Point," Dane replied. "I was so absent-minded when I went back to the lake that Pete did not know what to make of me. I returned later and saw you at one of the camps telling stories to several children. You know what happened after that."
"Indeed I do," the girl declared. "I can never forget that night, nor how you saved me from Seth Lupin."
"Have you heard from the villain since?"
"Not since coming here. But so long as he is in this country I cannot feel safe. I sometimes imagine he is prowling around here and will appear at any minute."
"Umph, it won't be well for him if he does when I am here," and Dane's hands clenched hard. "He won't get off as easily as he did that last time. I thought he might follow you when you first arrived at this place, so ordered Pete to be on the lookout. I hoped that you would understand the meaning of that arrow in the big pine."
"I was certain that you had much to do with that," Jean replied. "For a while I thought that you were near, and wondered why you did not come to see me. But now I know that you were thinking of my welfare, and longing to come."
"I was always thinking about you, Jean, and I have something here to show how much you were in my mind."
Thrusting his right hand into the breast-pocket of his jacket, he brought forth a little piece of wood. Removing a plug from one end, he drew out a silver arrow-pin.
"This is a proof how much I was thinking of you. You little know how eagerly I looked forward to the time when I would have the right to present it to you."
"And did you really make this?" Jean asked, taking the arrow in her hand and examining it most carefully. "I think it is wonderful."
"Yes, I made it myself," Dane replied, delighted at the girl's interest and pleasure. "I worked it out of a silver coin my mother gave me years ago, and which I valued most highly. For no one else would I have done such a thing."
Dane's voice was a little husky as he spoke, and this Jean noticed.
"Your mother is dead, then?" she queried. She had often longed to ask him about her, but owing to his reticence about his past life, she had not done so. She had thought it strange, nevertheless, that he had never mentioned his parents.
"My mother died five years ago," Dane explained. "Whatever I am I owe to her. She was a noble woman."
"Is your father dead, too? Have you no home?"
"I have had no real home since my mother died," was the evasive reply. "My home is wherever night overtakes me. I cannot tell you any more now, so please do not ask me. I know you will trust me."
He paused abruptly, impulsively took the arrow from the girl's hand, and placed it in her dress at her throat. He then stepped back to view the effect.
"It becomes you well, Jean, and you must always wear it there. It is Love's-Charm, and it may mean more to you than you now imagine."
"I shall always wear it," was the low response, "not only as Love's-Charm but as a remembrance of this happy day."