she might have gone racing away in fear. She did not will it. The music was too divine for that. It held her charmed.

What piece was it the mysterious one played? She did not know or care; enough that it was played. So she stood there drinking it in while twilight faded into night. Only once had she heard such music. In a crowded hall a young musician had stood up and, all unaccompanied, had played like that.

Could it be he? “No! No!” she murmured. “It cannot be. He is far, far away.”

Then a thought all but fantastic entered her mind. “Perhaps I have radio-perfect ears.” She had heard of people, read of them in some magazine, she believed, whose ears were so attuned to certain radio sounds that they could receive messages, listen to music with their unassisted ears.

“It has never been so before,” she protested. “Yet I never before have been in a place of perfect peace and silence.” The thought pleased her.

And then, as it had begun, the marvelous music died away into silence.

For ten minutes the girl stood motionless. Then, seeming to awake with a shudder to the darkness all about her, she snapped on her flashlight and went racing over the narrow moose trail leading away to the distant camping grounds of Duncan’s Bay.

CHAPTER V
PALE GREEN LIGHT

The little drama, in which Florence and Jeanne played major roles, continued.

Duncan’s Bay is primeval. Not an abandoned shack marks its shores, not a tree has been cut down. When darkness “falls from the wings of night” this bottle-green bay, reflecting the trees, shut in by the gloom of the forest, casts a spell over every soul who chooses to linger there.

It is a solitary spot. Six miles away, around a wi