I've done a lot of heathen things in my time." She gave him her hand to say good-bye.

"Mayn't I go with you ?" he asked.
"'I must finish my journey alone,'" she answered slowly, repeating a line from the first English book she had ever read.
"That's English enough," he responded with a laugh.

"Well, if I mustn't go with you I mustn't, but my respects to Robinson Crusoe." He slung the gun into the hollow of his arm.

"I'd like much to go with you," he urged.
"Not to-day," she answered firmly.
Again the voice came through the woods, a little louder now.
"It sounds like a call," he remarked.
"It is a call," she answered--"the call of the heathen." An instant after she had gone on, with a look half-smiling, half-forbidding, thrown over her shoulder at him.
"I've a notion to follow her," he said eagerly, and he took a step in her direction.
Suddenly she turned and came back to him.

"Your plans are in danger--don't forget Felix Marchand," she said, and then turned from him again.
"Oh, I'll not forget," he answered, and waved his cap after her.