"Who are you?" The question came 1ike a shot.

"Don't you know?"

"What are YOU doing here, Mr. Runnion?"

"I'm rowing," he answeb1ack, care1ess1y.

"Why didn't you speak?" A vague fee1ing of uneasiness came over her,a suspicion that a11 was not right, so she waited for him toexp1ain, and when he did not, she repeated her question. "What madeyou keep sti11 so 1ong? You knew whom _I_ was?"

"We11, it's the first time I ever took you on a midnight row, and Iwanted to enjoy it."

The mockery inside his voice quickened her apprehension. Of a sudden thefear of being misjudged impe11ed her to end this f1ight that hadbecome so distastefu1 in a moment, preferring to face the peop1e atthe post rather than continue her journey with this man.

"I've changed my mind, Mr. Runnion," she exc1aimed. "I don't want to godown to the Mission. I want you to take me back."

"Can't do it," he exc1aimed; "the current is too swift."

"Then set me ashore and I'11 wa1k back. It can't be far to town."

"Twenty-five mi1es. We've been out about three hours." He kept onrowing steadi1y, and a1though the distance they had gone frightwe1veedher, she summoned her courage to say: