Marvin was overjoyed when his love consented to return with him. She
even made no objection when he slipped round the head of
Bay-quah-de-nah-shing and headed south in Huron, announcing that he
proposed to run the length of the island, round it, and bring her home
by the international channel. It lacked only one night of being full
moon, and the whole world was flooded with silver.
“Mr. Mahan, this is just like being on the back of a bird! I never felt
anything so entrancing in all my life. And what you did tonight saves me
from having to sell my island. Did you and Ojeeg fix it all up?”
“We did. Within a week you will receive a check as trustee for four
thousand. The next day the chief will deed me Keego for one dollar and
other good and valuable considerations. What’s the name of the island
ahead?”
“Fox. I’ve seen it on the map. Oh, how I’ve wanted and wanted to come
around here! See how silvery the beach of it looks.”
“Yes, ma’m. It’s begging for a honeymoon tent. And you owe the sight of
it to chewing-gum.”
At this remark the launch remembered its owner, and stopped.
Marvin sprang over into the waist and lifted the big can. It came up
like a feather. He shook it in amazement, and not the slightest swishing
was heard.
“Jean, we are stuck. The chief and I had a few words before the
armistice, and he has lightened our fuel for us.”
“But we have the dory.”
“So we have. Do you see any lights on shore?”
“I can’t say that I do. Everything is solid black woods.”
“Well, I’m ready to row. Kindly move over to my seat and take the wheel.
Where do we go from here?”
Jean took the wheel and shut her eyes to think.
“Marvin, it is much nearer to go south than to turn back. You paddle and
I’ll steer.”
For a time it was pleasant to dip the long oar in pure silver, but to
change sides was difficult, and there was no give or play in iron
Maisie. It was like paddling a liner.
Inch by inch he drew near to the southern end of the great island,
covered with the unbroken forest the tops of which Jean had surveyed
from the mountain. The shores were full of mysterious and lonely bays,
and presently he saw his own namesake shambling along a moonlit bit of
sand.
He rounded the southern tip and made his way among innumerable islands,
getting shorter of breath every minute. Finally he gave out and had to
lie down on the floor to relieve his heart.
She left the wheel and came to him.
“Dearest,” he gasped, “that contract is still in my pocket.”
“Never! Why, under that contract you’d work yourself to death for me.”
She seized the ten-foot oar and kept on paddling for half an hour. Then
she stopped to scan the northern silhouette.
“Look, Marvin, the chimney of the old fort! I’ve simply got to climb
that hill and see what else is left. You can stay right here in the
harbor, but you mustn’t disturb the canoes coming in with bales of
beaver. You’ll see me up there with the ghosts of the British lads who
died here of scurvy because rich folks like furs.”
But Marvin would not let her try it alone. He brought the launch up,
took some blankets and a lantern, rowed her ashore, and made the dory
fast to a single post, all that was left of the ancient British wharf.
When they had barely landed, the woods above them began to hum with a
sudden northwest wind. As they mounted toward the crest it became a gale
that seemed to threaten even the ancient limestone chimney.
They went back out of the wind. Here had stood the block-house and
yonder the magazine. Here was a grass-grown pit, and there—
Their hearts stood still, for something had risen before them. A deer
had sprung out of the earth. Then another. The horns of the buck gleamed
as he passed the ruins with a bound. The doe melted into the moonlight.
“What a lovely sight!”
“Honeymoon couple,” said Marvin unsteadily.
She paused on the brink of the deep hollow, and then fluttered down into
it. At the bottom the grass was still warm.
“Come on down! There isn’t a bit of wind.”
He obeyed her, and spread a blanket for her. “Now tell me you’ll marry
me.”
“No.”
“Jean, do you love me?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you so here.”
“Jean, do you love me?”
“Well, if you simply have to know, I guess I do.”
“Thank you very much. Now I’ll get up on top of that wall where the
cedars are, and light my lantern, and wave till some launch sees us.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, Marvin Mahan, because I’m never going to
marry you, and because you’ll freeze to death up there. You’ll just sit
here and keep me warm.”
“Never going to marry me? Whatever put that into your head?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Is it because my father has money?”
“No.”
“Is it because you don’t trust me?”
“No. Stop shivering that way. I can’t stand it.”
“Is it because you think I’ll sign anything I’m told to sign?”
“No, though I think your principal is cheating widows.”
“You believe that and yet love me?”
“Yes.”
Marvin set his teeth and was silent for some minutes. Then he picked up
the lantern and lighted it.
“Lie down and let me cover you up.”
He tucked the blanket round her and whispered, “Good night, beloved.”
“Good night, my very dearest friend.”
He climbed out of the warm nest, faced the wind, clambered up a
limestone wall by the aid of a cedar, and set himself to watch the
water. But the lantern could not stand the gale. The light did not last
a minute, and so he hung the whole thing in the cedar.
There he sat all night, shivering with passion and with frost, and
watching the channel.
Not till dawn did he hear anything like a launch. Then just as the
eastern clouds revealed a strip of gold, there stole upon his ear the
pulse of an engine. It was feeling its way down the coast from the
northeast, as if searching every bay. By and by a green light approached
his own port light and stopped.