sprang to my feet astounded, for of the two women in the nearest batteau one was Lois de Contrecoeur and the other Lana Helmer.

Suddenly the Oneida canoe shot out from the farther shore, passed both batteaux, paddles flashing, and came darting toward the landing where I stood. Two riflemen were in it; one rose as the canoe’s nose grated on the gravel, cast aside the bow-paddle, balanced himself toward the bow with both hands, and leaped ashore, waving at me a gay greeting.

“My God!” said I excitedly, as Boyd ran lightly up the slope. “Are you stark mad to bring ladies into this damnable place?”

“There are other women, too. Why, even that pretty jade, Dolly Glenn, is coming! What could I do? The General himself