Bindloss Harold - The Protector

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Th

Protector, by Harold Bindloss

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Title: The Protector

Author: Harold Bindloss

Release Date: December 12, 2011 [EBoo

#38286]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOO

THE PROTECTOR ***



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"Two steps took him up to the waist, and

he had trouble

n finding solid bottom at the next." (Chap

xvii.)

THE

PROTECTOR

BY

HAROLD BINDLOSSAuthor of "The Impostor," "Hawtrey's Deputy,"

"The Pioneer," etc., etc.



W A R D ,

L I M I T

LONDON, MELBOURNE AND

TORONTO1918

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I—A FRIEND IN NEED

CHAPTER II—A BREEZE OF

WIND.

CHAPTER III—AN AFTERNOON

ASHORE.

CHAPTER IV—A CHANGE OF

ENVIRONMENT.



CHAPTER V—THE OLD

COUNTRY.

CHAPTER VI—UPON THE

HEIGHTS.CHAPTER VII—STORM-STAYED

CHAPTER VIII—LUCY VANE.

CHAPTER IX—CHISHOLM

PROVES AMENABLE.CHAPTER X—WITH THE OTTE

HOUNDS.

CHAPTER XI—VANE

WITHDRAWS.

CHAPTER XII—VANE GROWS

RESTLESS.

CHAPTER XIII—A NEWPROJECT.

CHAPTER XIV—VANE SAILS

NORTH.

CHAPTER XV—THE FIRST



MISADVENTURE.

CHAPTER XVI—THE BUSH.

CHAPTER XVII—VANE

POSTPONES THE SEARCH.CHAPTER XVIII—JESSIE

CONFERS A FAVOUR.

CHAPTER XIX—VANE

FORESEES TROUBLE.CHAPTER XX—THE FLOOD.

CHAPTER XXI—VANE YIELDS A

POINT.

CHAPTER XXII—EVELYN GOES

FOR A SAIL.

CHAPTER XXIII—VANE PROVES

OBDURATE.CHAPTER XXIV—JESSIE

STRIKES.

CHAPTER XXV—THE

INTERCEPTED LETTER.



CHAPTER XXVI—ON THE

TRAIL.

CHAPTER XXVII—THE END OF

THE SEARCH.CHAPTER XXVIII—CARROL

SEEKS HELP.

CHAPTER XXIX—JESSIE’

CONTRITION.CHAPTER XXX—CONVINCING

TESTIMONY.

CHAPTER XXXI—VANE IS

REINSTATED.

THE PROTECTOR



CHAPTER I—A FRIEND IN NEED.

A light breeze was blowing down th

nlet, scented with the smell of the firs

and the tiny ripples it chased across th

water splashed musically against the bow

of the canoe. There was a thud as th

blade struck the water, and the long, ligh

hull forged onwards with slightly lifted

bird’s-head prow, while the two men

swung forward for the next stroke with rhythmic grace of motion. They knel

facing forward, in the bottom of the craf

and dissimilar as they were in feature

and, to some extent, in character, thikeness between them was stronger tha

he difference. Both bore the unmistakabl

stamp of a wholesome life spent i

vigorous labour in the open. Their eye



were clear, and like those of mos

bushmen singularly steady; their skin wa

weather-darkened, and they were leanl

muscular.

On either side of the lane of green wate

giant firs, Cedars and balsams, crep

down the rocky hills to the whitenedriftwood fringe. They formed part of th

great coniferous forest which roll

westwards from the wet coast range o

Canada’s Pacific province, andoverleaping the Strait, spreads across th

rugged and beautiful wilderness o

Vancouver Island. Ahead, clusters of little

frame houses showed up here and there i

openings among the trees, and a smal

sloop, towards which the canoe wa

heading, lay anchored near the wharf.



The men had plied the paddle during mos

of that day, from inclination rather tha

necessity, because they could have hired

Siwash Indians to undertake the labour fohem, had they been so minded. The

were, though their appearance did no

suggest it, moderately prosperous; bu

heir prosperity was of recent date, anhey had been accustomed to doin

everything for themselves, as are most o

he men who dwell among the woods an

ranges of British Columbia.

Vane, who knelt nearest the bows, wa

wenty-seven years of age, and he ha

spent nine of them chopping trees, drivin

cattle, poling canoes, and assisting in th

search for useful minerals among th

snow-clad ranges. He wore a wide, gre



felt hat which had lost its shape fro

frequent wettings, an old shirt of the sam

colour, and blue duck trousers, rent i

places; but the light attire revealed a finmuscular symmetry. He had brown hai

and brown eyes, and a certain warmth o

colouring which showed through the dee

bronze of his skin hinted at a sanguine ansomewhat impatient temperament.

His companion, Carroll, had lighter hai

and grey eyes, and his appearance was ittle less vigorous and a little mor

refined, though he, too, had toiled har

and borne many privations in th

wilderness. His dress resembled Vane’s

The two had located a valuable minera

property some months earlier, and thoug

his does not invariably follow, had held



heir own against city financiers during th

negotiations that preceded the floating of

company to work the mine. That they ha

succeeded in securing a good deal of thstock was largely due to Vane’

pertinacity, and said something for hi

acumen; but both had been trained in

very hard school.

As the wooden houses ahead rose highe

and the sloop’s grey hull grew into

sharper shape upon the clear green shininof the brine, Vane broke into a snatch o

song.

“Had I the wings of a dove, I would fly,

Just for to-night, to the Old Country.”

He stopped and laughed. “It’s nine year



since I’ve seen it, but I can’t get thos

ines out of my head. Perhaps it’s becaus

of the girl who sang them. Somehow, I fel

sorry for her. She had remarkably fineyes.”

“Sea-blue,” said his companion. “I don’

grasp the connection between the last twremarks.”

“Neither do I,” Vane admitted. “I suppose

here isn’t one. But they weren’t sea-blueunless you mean the depth of indigo, whe

you’re out of sounding. They’re Iris

eyes.”

“You’re not Irish. There’s not a trace o

he Celt in you, unless it’s your habit o

getting indignant with the folks who don



share your views.”

“No, sir,” answered Vane. “By birth, I’m

orth Country—England, I mean. Ovehere, we’re respectable befor

everything, and smart at getting hold o

whatever’s worth having. As a matter o

fact, you Ontario Scotsmen are mighty likus.”

“You certainly came out well ahead o

hose city men who put up the dollars,said Carroll. “I guess it’s in the blood

hough I fancied they would take the min

from you.”

Vane brought his paddle down with a

hud. “‘Just for to-night, to the Ol

Country,’” he hummed, and added: “I



sticks to one.”

“Why did you leave the Old Country?”

“That’s a blamed injudicious question to

ask, but you shall have an answer. Ther

was a row at home—I was

sentimentalist then and just eighteen—anas the result of it I came out to Canada.

His voice changed and grew softer. “

hadn’t many relatives, and except on

sister, they’re all gone now. That remindme—she’s not going to lecture for th

county education authorities any longer.”

The sloop was close ahead, andslackening the paddling they ra

alongside. Vane glanced at his watch

when they had climbed on board.



“Supper will be finished at the hotel,” h

remarked. “You had better get the stove

ighted. It’s your turn, and that rascall

Siwash seems to have gone off again. Ihe’s not back when we’re ready, we’l

sail without him.”

Carroll, accordingly, prepared the mealand when they had finished it they lay o

deck smoking with a content which wa

not altogether accounted for by a satisfie

appetite. They had spent several anxioumonths, during which they had come ver

near the end of their slender resources

arranging for the exploitation of the mine

and now at last the work was over. Vane

had that day made his final plans for th

construction of a road and wharf by whic

he ore could be economically shipped fo



reduction, or as the alternative to this, fo

he erection of a small smelting plant

They had bought the sloop as a convenien

means of conveyance and shelter, sinchey could live in some comfort on board

ow they could take their ease for

while, which was a very unusual thing t

both of them.

“I suppose you’re bent on sailing this craf

back?” Carroll said at length, “We could

hire a couple of Siwash to take her homwhile we rode across the island and go

he cars to Victoria. Besides, there’s tha

steamboat coming down the coast to

night.”

"Either way would cost a good deal extra

Vane pointed out.





“I was across some time ago, but if yo

would sooner I went with you, I’ll com

along. We could start as soon as we’ve

arranged the few matters left open iVancouver.”

Vane was glad to hear it. He knew little

about Carroll’s antecedents, but the lattewas obviously a man of education, an

hey had been comrades for the last thre

years. During that time they had learnt t

rust each other, and to bear with eacother’s idiosyncrasies. Filling his pip

again as he lay in the fading sunlight, Vane

ooked back on the nine years he ha

passed in Canada; and allowing for th

periods of exposure to cold and wet, an

he almost ceaseless toil, he admitted tha

he might have spent them mor



unpleasantly.

Having quarrelled with his relatives, h

had come out with only a few pounds anhad promptly set about earning a livin

with his hands. When he had been in th

country several years, however, a friend

of the family had sent him a small sumand the young man had made a judiciou

use of the money. The lot he bough

outside a wooden town doubled in value

and the share he took in a new orcharpaid him well; but he had held aloof fro

he cities, and his only recklessness ha

been prospecting journeys into th

wilderness. Prospecting for minerals is a

once an art and a gamble, but even in thi

direction, in which he had had keen wit

against him, Vane had held his own; bu



here was one side of life with which h

was practically unacquainted.

There are no social amenities on thrangeside or in the bush, and women ar

scarce. Vane had lived in Spartan

simplicity; his passions had remaine

unstirred, and now he was seven-andwenty, sound and vigorous of body and

as a rule, level of head. At length

however, there was to be a change. H

had earned an interlude of leisure, and hmeant to enjoy it, without, as he prudentl

determined, making a fool of himself.

Presently Carroll took his pipe from hi

mouth.

“Are you going ashore to the show to



night?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Vane lazily. “It’s a long while

since I’ve struck another entertainment oany kind, and that yellow-haired mite’

dancing is one of the prettiest things I’v

seen.”

“You’ve been twice already,” Carrol

pointed out. “The girl with the blue eye

sings her first song rather well.”

“I think so,” Vane agreed with a

significant absence of embarrassment. “I

his case a good deal depends upon th

singing—the interpretation, don’t they calt? The thing’s on the border, and I’ve

struck places where they’d have made i

gross; but the girl only brought out th



mischief. Strikes me she didn’t see ther

was anything else in it.”

“That’s curious, considering the crowdshe goes about with,” Carroll suggested

“Aren’t you cultivating a critical faculty?”

Vane disregarded the ironical question“She’s Irish; that accounts for a good

deal.” He paused and looked thoughtfu

“If I knew how to do it, I’d like to give th

child who dances five dollars. It must be ough life, and her mother—the woman a

he piano—looks ill. I wonder why the

came to a place like this?”

“Struck a cold streak at Nanaimo, th

storekeeper told me,” Carroll replied

“Anyway, since we’re to start at sun-up



’m staying here.” Then he smiled. “Has i

struck you that your attendance in the fron

seats is liable to misconception?”

His companion rose without answerin

and dropped into the canoe. Thrusting he

off, he drove the craft towards the whar

with vigorous strokes, and Carroll shoohis head whimsically as he watched him.

“Anybody except myself would conclud

hat he was waking up at last,” he said.

A minute or two later, Vane swung

himself up on to the wharf and strode int

he wooden settlement. There were one owo hydraulic mines and a pulp mill in th

vicinity, and though the place was by no

means populous, a company of third-rat



entertainers had arrived some day

earlier. On reaching the rude woode

building in which they had given thei

performance and finding it closed, haccosted a lounger.

“What’s become of the show?” he asked.

“Busted,” replied the man. “Didn’t tak

he boys’ fancy, and the crowd went ou

with the stage this afternoon, though

heard that two of the women stayebehind.”

Vane turned away with a slight sense o

compassion. He, however, dismissed thmatter from his mind, and having bee

kneeling in a cramped position in th

canoe most of the day, decided to strol



along the waterside before going back t

he sloop.

Great firs stretched out their sombrbranches over the smooth shingle, an

now the sun had gone their clean resinou

smell was heavy on the dew-cooled air

Here and there brushwood grew amonout-cropping rock, and catching sight o

what looked like a stripe of woven fabri

beneath a brake, he strode towards i

Then he stopped with a start, for a younwoman lay with her face hidden from hi

n an attitude of dejected abandonment. H

was about to turn away softly, when sh

started and looked up at him. Her eye

were wet, but they were of the deep blu

he had described to Carroll, and he stoo

still.



“You shouldn’t give way like that,” he

said.

t was all he could think of; but he spokwithout obtrusive assurance o

pronounced embarrassment, and the girl

who shook out her crumpled skirt ove

one little foot with a swift movementchoked back a sob, and favoured him wit

a glance of keen scrutiny as she rose to

sitting posture. She was quick at readin

character—the life she led had made thanecessary—and his manner an

appearance were reassuring. She

however, said nothing, and sitting dow

on a neighbouring boulder, he took out hi

pipe from force of habit.

“Well,” he added, in much the same tone



as he would have used to a distresse

child, “what’s the trouble?”

She told him, speaking on impulse“They’ve gone off and left me. The taking

didn’t meet expenses.”

“That’s bad,” said Vane gravely. “Do youmean they’ve left you alone?”

“No,” replied the girl; “in a way it’

worse than that. I suppose I could go—somewhere—but there’s Mrs. Marvin and

Elsie.”

“The child who danced?”

The girl assented, and Vane looked

houghtful.



“The three of you stick together,” h

suggested.

“Of course. Mrs. Marvin’s the only friendhave.”

“Then I suppose you’ve no idea what t

do?”

His companion confessed it, an

explained that it was the cause of he

distress and that they had had bad luck oate. Vane could understand that as he

ooked at her; her dress was shabby, and

he fancied she had not been bountifull

fed.

“If you stayed here a few days, you coul

go out with the next stage, and get on t



Victoria with the cars,” he said. H

paused and continued diffidently: “It coul

be arranged with the hotel-keeper.”

She laughed in a half-hysterical manner

and he remembered that fares were high i

he country.

“I suppose you have no money,” he added

with blunt directness. “I want you to tel

Mrs. Marvin that I’ll lend her enough t

ake you all to Victoria.”

Her face crimsoned, which was not quit

what he had expected, and he suddenly fel

embarrassed.

“No,” she replied; “I can’t do that. Fo

one thing, it would be too late when w





The girl hesitated, which struck Vane a

natural, and turned partly from him. H

surmised that she did not know what t

make of his offer, though her need waurgent. In the meanwhile he stood up.

“Come along and talk it over wit

Mrs. Marvin,” he went on. “I’d better telyou I’m Wallace Vane of the Clermon

mine. Of course, I know your name fro

he programme.”

She rose and they walked back to th

hotel. Once more it struck him that the gir

was pretty and graceful. On reaching th

hotel, he sat down on the verandah whil

she went in, and a few minutes later th

elder woman came out and looked at hi

much as the girl had done. He grew ho





asked.

“Five dollars,” answered the man.

Vane handed him a bill. “Take it out o

his, and make any excuse you like. I’

going to put them on board the steamboat.

The man made no comment, and Vane

striding down to the beach, sent a hai

ringing across the water. Carroll appeared

on the sloop’s deck and answered him.

“Hallo!” he cried. “What’s the trouble?”

“Get ready the best supper you camanage for three people as quick as yo

can.”

Then he turned away in a hurry



wondering rather uneasily what Carrol

would say when he grasped the situation.



CHAPTER II—A BREEZE OF WIND

There were signs of a change in th

weather when Vane walked down to the

wharf with his passengers, for a col

wind which had sprung up struck an eeri

sighing from the sombre firs and sent th

white mists streaming along the hillside

There was a watery moon in the sky, and

on reaching the end of the wharf Vane

fancied that the singer hesitated; but thelder woman laid her hand upon the girl’

arm reassuringly and she got into th

canoe. In a few minutes Vane ran the craf

alongside the sloop and saw thamazement in Carroll’s face by the glow

from the cabin skylight. He, however

fancied that his comrade would rise to th

occasion and he handed his guests up.





“You must help yourselves while we ge

sail upon the boat,” said Vane. “The

saloon’s at your disposal, my partner and

have the fo’c’sle. You will notice thereare blankets yonder, and as we’ll hav

smooth water most of the way you shoul

get some sleep.”

He withdrew, closing the slide, and wen

forward with Carroll to shorten in th

cable; but when they stopped beside th

bitts his companion broke into a sofaugh.

“Is there anything to amuse you?” Vane

asked curtly.

“Well,” said Carroll with an air o

reflection, “it strikes me you’re making





Vane looked up at him sharply.

“You’ve been right in the advice you have

given me more than once: you seem tknow how prosperous and what you cal

stereotyped folks look at things. Bu

you’ve never explained where you got th

knowledge.”

“That,” said Carroll, “is quite anothe

matter.”

“Anyway,” continued Vane, “there’s one

remark of yours I’d like to answer. You

would, no doubt, consider I made

egitimate use of my money when entertained that crowd of city people—

some of whom would have plundered m

f they could have managed it—i





oughened by determined labour, and th

erm hog appeared singularl

nappropriate.

“Well,” said Carroll, “you’ll no doubt ge

used to the new conditions by and by, and

n regard to your latest exploit there’s

motto on your insignia of the Garter whicmight meet the case. But hadn’t we bette

heave her over her anchor?”

They seized the chain and as it ran belowa sharp, musical rattle rang out, for th

hollow hull flung back the metalli

clinking like a sounding board. When th

cable was short-up, they grasped th

halyards and the big gaff mainsail ros

flapping up the mast. They set it an

urned to the headsails, for though, strictl



speaking, a sloop only carries one, th

erm is loosely applied in places, and a

Vane had changed her rig there were two

of them.

“It’s a fair wind, and I expect we’ll find

more weight in it lower down,” sai

Carroll. “We’ll let the staysail lie and runher with the jib.”

They set the jib and broke out the anchor

Vane took the helm, and the sloop, slantinover until her deck on one side dippe

close to the frothing brine, drove awa

nto, the darkness. The lights of th

settlement faded among the trees, an

when Carroll coming aft flung a strip o

canvas over the skylight, his comrad

could see the black hills and climbing fir



on both sides slip by. Sliding vapour

streaked them, a crisp splashing soun

made by the curling ripples followed th

vessel; the canoe surged along noisilastern, and the frothing and gurgling grew

ouder at the bows. They were runnin

down one of the deep, forest-shroude

nlets which, resembling the Norwegiafiords, pierce the Pacific littoral o

Canada.

“I wonder how the wind is outside,” Vanesaid.

Carroll looked round and saw the whit

mists stream athwart the pines on

promontory they were skirting. “That’

more than I can tell. In these trough

among the hills it either blows straight up



or directly down, and I dare say we’ll fin

t different when we reach the sound. On

hing’s certain—there’s some weight in i

now.”

Vane nodded agreement, though an idea

hat troubled him crept into his mind. “

understand the steamboat skipper will run to land some Siwash he’s bringin

down. It will be awkward in the dark i

he wind’s onshore.”

Carroll made no comment, and they drov

on, until as they swept round the point th

sloop, slanting sharply, dipped her lee rai

n the froth.

“We’ll have to tie down a reef,” he said.



Vane told him to take the tiller and

scrambling forward, rapped upon th

cabin side, which he flung back

Mrs. Marvin lay upon the leeward lockewith a blanket across her and the little gir

at her feet; Miss Blake sat on the weathe

one with a book in her hand.

“We’re going to take some sail off the

boat,” he said. “You needn’t be disturbed

by the noise.”

“When do you expect to meet th

steamer?” Miss Blake inquired.

“Not for two or three hours, anyway,Vane answered, with a hint of uncertainty

n his voice. Then, as he fancied the gir

had noticed it, he closed the slide.



“Down helm!” he said to Carroll, an

here was a banging and thrashing o

canvas as the sloop came up into the wind

They held her there, with the jib abackwhile they hauled the canoe on board

which was not an easy task, and then wit

difficulty hove down a reef in th

mainsail. It was heavy work, becaushere was nobody at the helm, and the craf

falling off once or twice as they leaned ou

upon the boom with toes on her depresse

ee rail, threatened to hurl them into th

frothing water. Neither of them wer

rained sailors, but on that coast with it

nlets and sounds and rivers the wandereearns to handle sail and paddle an

canoe-pole.

They finished their task, and when Vane



seized the helm Carroll sat down unde

he shelter of the coaming, out of the flyin

spray.

“We’ll probably have some trouble

putting your friends on board the steamer

even if she runs in,” he remarked. “Wha

are you going to do if there’s no sign oher?”

“It’s a question I’ve been shirking for th

ast half-hour,” Vane confessed.

“I‘d like to point out that it would be ver

slow work beating back up this inlet, an

f we did so there isn’t a stage across thsland for several days. No doubt yo

remember you have to see that contracto

on Thursday, and there’s the directors



meeting.”

“It’s uncommonly awkward,” Vane

answered dubiously.

Carroll laughed. “It strikes me your guest

will have to stay where they are, whethe

hey like it or not; but there’s onconsolation—if this wind is from th

north-west, which is most likely, it will b

a fast run to Victoria. And now I’ll try to

get some sleep.”

He disappeared down a scuttle forward

eaving Vane somewhat disturbed in mind

He had merely contemplated taking higuests for a few hours’ run, but to have

hem on board for, perhaps, several day

was a very different thing. Besides, h



was far from sure that they woul

understand the necessity for the latter, in

which case the situation might becom

difficult. In the meanwhile, the sloodrove on, until at last towards morning th

beach fell back on each hand and she me

he long swell tumbling in from th

Pacific. The wind was from the northwest and blowing moderately hard; ther

was no light yet in the sky above the blac

heights to the east of him, and the swel

grew higher and steeper, breaking whit

here and there. The sloop plunged over i

wildly, hurling the spray aloft, and it cos

him a determined effort to haul his sheetn as the wind drew ahead. Shortl

afterwards, the beach faded altogether o

one hand, and he saw that the sea wa

piled up into foaming ridges. It seeme





“Where’s the steamer?” she asked.

t was a question Vane had dreaded; bu

he answered it honestly: “I can’t tell yout’s very likely that she has gone straigh

on to Victoria.”

He read suspicion in her suddenlhardening face.

“You expected this when you asked us to

come on board!” she cried.

“No,” said Vane, whose face grew hot

“On my honour, I did nothing of the kind

There was only a moderate breeze whewe left, and when it freshened enough t

make it unlikely that the steamer woul

run in, I was as vexed as you seem to be



As it happened, I couldn’t go back. I mus

get on to Victoria as soon as possible.”

She looked at him searchingly.

“Then what are we to do?” she asked.

There was distress in the cry, but Vaneanswered it in his most matter-of-fac

one: “So far as I can see, you can onl

reconcile yourself to staying on board

We’ll have a fresh fair wind for Victoriaonce we’re round the next head, and wit

uck we ought to get there late to-night.”

“You’re sure you’ll be there, then?”

“I’m sorry I can’t even promise that: i

depends upon the weather,” he replied

“But you mustn’t stand up in the spray



You’re getting wet through.”

She still clung to the coaming, but h

fancied that her misgivings wervanishing; and he spoke again: “How ar

Mrs. Marvin and the little girl? I see yo

have lighted the stove.”

The girl sat down, shivering, in the partia

shelter of the coaming, and at last a glea

of amusement which he thought was partl

compassionate shone in her eyes.

“I’m afraid they’re—far from well. Tha

was why I lighted the fire; I wanted t

make them some tea. I thought yowouldn’t mind.”

Vane smiled. “Everything’s at you



service. Go and get your breakfast, an

put on a coat you’ll find below if yo

come out again.”

She disappeared, and Vane felt relieved

Though the explanation had proved les

difficult than he had anticipated, he wa

glad that it was over. Half an hour lateshe appeared again, carrying a loade

ray, and he wondered at the ease of he

movements, for the sloop was plungin

viciously.

“I’ve brought you some breakfast. You

have been up all night,” she said.

Vane laughed. “As I can only take one

hand from the helm, you will have to cu

up the bread and canned stuff for me



Draw that box out and sit down beneat

he coaming if you mean to stay.”

She did as he told her. The well was somfour feet long, and the bottom of it abou

half that distance below the level of th

deck. As the result of this, she sat close to

his feet, while he balanced himself on thcoaming, gripping the tiller. He noticed

hat she had brought an oilskin jacket wit

her.

“Hadn’t you better put this on first

There’s a good deal of spray,” she said.

Vane struggled into the jacket with somedifficulty, and she smiled as she handed

him up a slice of bread and canned mea

“I suppose,” she said, “you can onl



manage one piece at once?”

“Thank you. That’s about as much as yo

could expect one to be capable of, eveallowing for the bushman’s appetite. I’

surprised to see you looking so fresh.”

“Oh!” said the girl, “I used to go out withe mackerel boats at home; we lived a

he ferry. It was a mile across the lough

and with the wind westerly the se

worked in.”

“The lough?” said Vane. “I told Carrol

you were from the Green Isle.”

t struck him that this was, perhaps

mprudent, since it implied that they ha

been discussing her; but, on the othe



hand, he thought the candour of th

statement was in his favour. Then h

added: “Have you been long out here?”

Her face grew wistful. “Four years,” sh

answered. “I came out with Larry—he’

my brother. He was a forester at home

and he took small contracts for clearinand. Then he married—and I left him.”

Vane made a sign of comprehension. “

see. Where’s Larry now?”

“He went to Oregon. There was n

answer to my last letter; I’ve lost sight o

him.”

“And you go about with Mrs. Marvin? I

her husband alive?”



Sudden anger flared up in the girl’s blu

eyes, though, he knew it was not directe

against him.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s a pity he is. Men o

his kind always seem to live.”

t occurred to Vane, that Miss Blake, whohad evidently a spice of temper, could b

a staunch partisan; and he also noticed tha

now he had inspired her with some degre

of trust in himself, her conversation wamarked by an ingenious candour. For al

hat, she changed the subject.

“Another piece, or some tea?” she asked.

“Tea first,” said Vane, and they both

aughed when she afterwards handed hi



a double slice of bread.

“These sandwiches strike me as unusuall

nice,” he informed her. “It’s exceptionallygood tea, too.”

The blue eyes gleamed with amusement

“You have been in the cold all night—buwas once in a restaurant.” She watche

he effect of this statement on him. “You

know I really can’t sing—I was neve

aught, anyway, though there were some ohe settlements where we did rather well.

Vane hummed a few bars of a song. “

don’t suppose you realise what one ballaof yours has done. I’d almost forgotten th

Old Country, but the night I heard you

felt I must go back and see it again



What’s more, Carroll and I are goin

shortly; it’s your doing.”

This was a matter of fact, but Kitty Blakhad produced a deeper effect on him

although he was not aware of it yet.

“It’s a shame to keep you handing mhings to eat,” he added disconnectedly

“Still, I’d like another piece.”

She smiled, delighted, as she passed thfood to him. “You can’t help yourself and

steer the boat. Besides—after th

restaurant—I don’t mind waiting on you.”

Vane made no comment, but he watched

her with satisfaction while he ate, and a

one result of it the sloop plunged heavil



nto the frothing sea. There was no sign o

he others, and they were alone on th

waste of tumbling water in the early dawn

The girl was pretty, and there was pleasing daintiness about her.

She belonged to the people—there was n

doubt of that; but then Vane had a strongfaith in the people, native-born an

adopted, of the Pacific slope. It was fro

hem he had received the greates

kindnesses he could remember. They wercheerful optimists; indomitable grappler

with forest and flood, who did almos

ncredible things with axe and saw an

giant-powder. They lived in lonely ranc

houses, tents, and rudely flung up shacks

driving the new roads along the rangeside

risking life and limb in wild-cat adits



They were quick to laughter and reckles

n hospitality.

Then with an effort he brushed the hazhoughts away. Kitty Blake was merely

guest of his; in another day he would lan

her in Victoria, and that would be the end

of it. He was assuring himself of this wheCarroll crawled up through the scuttl

forward and came aft to join them. In spit

of his prudent reflections, Vane was by no

means certain that he was pleased to sehim.



CHAPTER III—AN AFTERNOON

ASHORE.

Half the day had slipped by, when th

breeze freshened further and the sun brok

hrough. The sloop was then rolling wildl

as she drove along with the peak of hemainsail lowered before a big followin

sea. Vane looked thoughtful as he gripped

he helm, because a head ran out from th

beach he was following three or foumiles way, and he would have to haul th

boat up to windward to get round it. Thi

would bring the combers upon her quarter

or, worse still, abeam. Kitty Blake wabelow; Mrs. Marvin had made n

appearance yet, and he spoke to Carrol

who was standing in the well.



“The sea’s breaking more sharply, and

we’d get uncommonly wet before w

hammered round yonder head,” he said

“There’s an inlet on this side of it wherwe ought to find good shelter.”

“The trouble is that if you stay there lon

you’ll be too late for the directorsmeeting,” Carroll answered.

“They can’t have the meeting without me

and, if it’s necessary, they can wait,” Vanpointed out. “I’ve had to. Many an hou

’ve spent cooling my heels in office

before the head of the concern could fin

ime to attend to me. No doubt it was par

of the game, and done to impress me wit

a due sense of my unimportance.”





sunshine, with loose canvas flappin

softly in a faint breeze while the cabl

rattled down.

They got the canoe over, and when he had

anded Mrs. Marvin and her little gir

both of whom looked very woebegone an

he worse for the voyage, into her, Vaneglanced round.

“Isn’t Miss Blake coming?” he asked.

Mrs. Marvin, who was suggestivel

pallid, smiled. “She’s changing he

dress.” She glanced at her own crumple

attire and added: “I’m past thinking osuch things as that.”

They waited some minutes, and then Vane



called to Kitty, who appeared in th

entrance to the cabin, “Won’t you look in

he locker, and bring anything you thin

would be nice? We’ll make a fire andhave supper on the beach; if it isn’t first

rate, you’ll be responsible.”

A few minutes later they paddled ashoreand Vane landed them on a strip of shingle

with a wall of rock behind it, to whic

dark firs clung in the rifts and crannies

The sunshine streamed into the hollow, thwind was cut off, and not far away

crystal stream came splashing down

ravine.

Vane, who had brought an axe, made a fire

of resinous wood, and Carroll and Kitt

prepared a bountiful supper. After it wa





woman with qualities that pleased him, a

a type of something that had so far no

come into his life; something which h

vaguely felt that he had missed. One coulhave fancied that by some deep-sun

ntuition she surmised this fact, and felt th

security of it.

“So you believe you can get a

engagement if you reach Vancouver in

ime,” he said at length. Kitty assented

and he asked, “How long will it last?”

“I can’t tell. Perhaps a few weeks. I

depends upon how the boys are please

with the show.”

“It must be a hard life,” Vane broke out

“You must make very little—scarcely



enough, I suppose, to carry you on fro

one engagement to another. After all

weren’t you as well off at the restaurant

Didn’t they treat you properly?”

She coloured a little at the question. “Oh

yes; at least, I have no fault to find wit

he man who kept it, or his wife.”

Vane made a hasty sign of comprehension

He supposed that the difficulty had arise

from the conduct of one or more of thregular customers. He felt he would ver

much like to meet the man whos

undesired attentions had driven hi

companion from her occupation.

“Did you never try to learn keepin

accounts or typewriting?” he asked.



“I tried it once, but the mill shut down.”

“I’ve an idea that I could find you a post,

Vane made the suggestion casually, thoughhe was troubled by an inward diffidence.

He saw a tinge of warmer colour cree

nto the girl’s cheeks.

“No,” she said decidedly. “It wouldn’

do.”

The man knitted his brows, though h

fancied that she was right. “Well,” he

replied, “I don’t want to be officious—bu

how can I help?”

“You can’t help at all.”

Vane, who saw that she meant it, lay



smoking in silence for a minute or two

Then Carroll came up with Mrs. Marvi

and the child, and he felt strongly stirre

when the little girl walked up to him shylwith a basket filled with shells. He drew

her down beside him, with an arm abou

her waist, while he examined he

reasures, and then glancing up met Kitty’eyes and felt his face grow hot with a

emotion he failed to analyse. The chil

was delicate; life had scanty pleasure t

offer her, but now she was happy.

“They’re so pretty, and there are lots o

hem,” she said. “Can’t we stay her

onger and gather some more?”

“Yes,” said Vane, conscious that Carroll

who had heard the question, was watchin





“Because I felt like doing so.”

“I needn’t remind you that you’ve a

appointment with Horsfield about thsmelter, and there’s a meeting of the board

next day. If we started now and caught th

first steamer across, you wouldn’t hav

much time to spare.”

“That’s correct. I shall have to wire fro

Victoria that I’ve been detained.”

Carroll laughed expressively. “Do yo

mean to keep your directors waiting t

please a child?”

“I suppose that’s one reason. Anyway,

don’t propose to hustle the little girl an

her mother on board the steamer helples







“But if he put his money in with the ide

of getting certain pickings?”

“He didn’t explain his intentions, and made no promises,” Vane answered dryly

“He’ll get his dividends; that’ll satisf

him.”

They rejoined the others, and when th

white mists crept lower down from th

heights above and the chill of the dew wa

n the air, Vane launched the canoe.

“It’s getting late, and there’s a long run in

front of us to-morrow,” he informed hi

passengers. “The sloop will lie as still af moored in a pond, and you’ll have he

all to yourselves. Carroll and I are goin

o camp ashore.”



He paddled them off to the boat, an

coming back with some blankets cut a few

armfuls of spruce twigs in a ravine an

spread them out beside the fire. Thesitting down just clear of the scente

smoke, he lighted his pipe and asked a

abrupt question: “What do you think o

Kitty Blake?”

“Well,” said Carroll cautiously, “I mus

confess that I’ve taken some interest in th

girl; partly because you were obviousldoing so. In a general way, what I noticed

rather surprised me. It wasn’t what

expected.”

“You smart folks are as often wrong as the

rest of us. I suppose you looked for cold

blooded assurance, tempered by what on





“There’s no doubt of it,” said Vane

shortly.

“You offered to help her in some way?”

“I did; I don’t know how you guessed it.

said I’d find her a situation. She wouldn

hear of it.”

“She was wise,” said Carroll

“Vancouver isn’t a very big place yet, and

he girl has more sense than you haveWhat did you say?”

“Nothing. You interrupted us. But I’m

going to sleep.”

He rolled himself up in his blanket and la

down among the soft spruce twigs, bu

Carroll sat still in the darkness an



smoked his pipe out. Then he glanced a

his comrade, who lay still, breathin

evenly.

“No doubt you’ll be considere

fortunate,” he said, apostrophizing hi

half aloud. “You’ve had power and

responsibility thrust upon you. What wilyou make of them?”

Then he, too, lay down, and only the sof

splash of the tiny ripples broke the silencwhile the fire sank lower.

They sailed next morning and eventuall

arrived in Victoria after the boat whichcrossed the Strait had gone, but the breez

was fair from the westwards, and afte

dispatching a telegram Vane put to sea



again. The sloop made a quick passage

and for most of the time her passenger

ounged in the sunshine on her gently

slanted deck. It was evening when they rahrough the Narrows into Vancouver’

and-locked harbour.

Half an hour later, Vane landed hispassengers, and it was not until he had lef

hem they discovered that he had thrust

roll of paper currency into the little girl’

hand. Then he and Carroll set off for thC.P.R. hotel.



CHAPTER IV—A CHANGE OF

ENVIRONMENT.

On the evening after his arrival i

Vancouver, Vane, who took Carroll with

him, paid a visit to one of his director

and, in accordance with the invitationreached the latter’s dwelling some littl

ime before the arrival of other guests

whose acquaintance it was considere

advisable that he should make.

Vane and his companion were ushered

nto a small room with an uncovered floo

and simple, hardwood furniture. It waobviously a working room, for, as a rule

he work of the Western business man

goes on continuously except when he i

asleep; but a somewhat portly lady with





had met people of their kind before, and

allowing for certain idiosyncrasies

considered them the salt of the Dominion

airn had done good service to hiadopted country, developing her new

ndustries, with some profit to himself, fo

he was of Scottish extraction; but whil

close at a bargain he could be generouafterwards. When his guests were seate

he laid two cigar boxes on the table.

“Those,” he said, pointing to one of them“are mine. I think ye had better try th

others; they’re for visitors.”

Vane, who had already noticed the aroma

of the cigar that was smouldering on

ray, decided that he was right, and dipped

his hand into the second box, which h







he handling of the thing; but henceforwar

t will be necessary to get the sanction o

he board. However, ye will mee

Horsfield to-night. We expect him and hisister.”

Vane thought he had been favoured with a

hint, but he also fancied that his host wanot inimical and was merely reserving hi

udgment. The latter changed the subject.

“So ye’re going to England for a holiday,he remarked. “Ye’ll have friends who’l

be glad to see ye?”

“I’ve one sister and no other nearelatives, but I expect to spend some tim

with folks you know. The Chisholms ar

old family friends and, as you wil



remember, it was through them I firs

approached you.” Then obeying one of th

mpulses which occasionally swayed hi

he turned to Mrs. Nairn. “I’m grateful them for sending me the letter o

ntroduction to your husband. He didn

reat me as the others did when I first wen

round this city with a few mineraspecimens.”

He had expected nothing when he spoke

but there was a responsive look in thady’s face which hinted that he had mad

a friend; and as a matter of fact, he owed

good deal to his host.

“So ye are meaning to stay wit

Chisholm,” Nairn exclaimed. “We had

Evelyn here two years ago and Clara sai





he fall,” she broke in. “It’s a very smal

world, Mr. Vane.”

“It’s a far cry from Vancouver toEngland,” said Vane. “How did you come

o know Chisholm?”

airn answered him. “Our acquaintancbegan with business, and he’s a kind o

connection of Colquhoun’s.”

Colquhoun was a man of sommportance, who held a Crow

appointment, and Vane felt inclined to

wonder why Chisholm had not sent him

etter to him. Afterwards he guessed at threason, which was not flattering to himsel

or his host. The latter and he chatte

awhile on business topics, until there wa



a sound of voices below, and going dow

n company with Mrs. Nairn they foun

wo or three new arrivals in the entranc

hall. More came in, and when they sadown to supper, Vane was given a place

beside a lady whom he had already met.

Jessie Horsfield was about his own ageall and slight of figure, with regula

features, a rather colourless face, and eye

of a cold, light blue. There was, however

something which Vane considered strikingn her appearance, and he was gratified b

her graciousness to him. Her brother sa

almost opposite to them, a tall, spare man

with an expressionless countenance

except for the aggressive hardness in hi

eyes. Vane had noticed this look in them

and it had roused his dislike; but he ha



not observed it in those of Miss Horsfield

hough it was present now and then. No

did he realise that while she chatted, sh

was unobtrusively studying him; She hanot favoured him with much notice whe

she was in his company on a previou

occasion; he had been a man of n

mportance then.

“I suppose you are glad you have finishe

your work in the bush,” she remarke

presently. “It must be nice to get back tocivilisation.”

“Yes,” Vane assented; “it’s remarkably

nice after living for nine years in th

wilderness.”

A fresh dish was laid before him, and hi



companion smiled. “You didn’t get thing

of this kind among the pines.”

“No,” said Vane. “In fact, cookery is oneof the chopper’s trials. You come back

dead tired, and often very wet, to you

onely tent, and then there’s a fire to mak

and supper to get before you can rest. Ihappens now and then that you’re to

played out to trouble, and go to sleep

nstead.”

“Dreadful,” said the girl, sympathetically

“But you have been in Vancouver before.”

“Except on the last occasion, I stayedown near the water-front. We were no

provided with luxurious quarters o

suppers of this kind then.”



Jessie nodded. “It’s romantic, and thoug

you must be glad it’s over, there must be

some satisfaction in feeling that you ow

he change to your own efforts. Doesn’t igive you a feeling that in some degre

you’re master of your fate? I fancy

should like that.”

t was subtle flattery, and there wer

reasons why it appealed to the man. H

had wandered about the province i

search of employment, besides beinbeaten down at many a small bargain b

more fortunately situated men. Now

however, he had resolved that ther

should be a difference: instead of beggin

favours, he would dictate terms.

“I should have imagined it,” he said, i



answer to her last remark, and he wa

right, for Jessie Horsfield was a cleve

woman, who loved power and influence

Then she abruptly changed the subject.

“It was you who located the Clermon

mine, wasn’t it?” she asked. “I rea

something about it in the papers; I thinhey said it was copper.”

This vagueness was misleading, becaus

her brother had given her a good deal onformation about the mine.

“Yes,” said Vane, who was willing to

ake up any subject she suggested; “it’copper, but there’s some silver combined

with it. Of course, the value of any or

depends upon two things—the percentag



of the metal, and the cost of extracting it.”

She waited with flattering interest, and h

added: “In both respects, Clermonproduce is promising.”

After that he did not remember what the

alked about; but the time passed rapidland he was surprised when Mrs. Nair

rose and the company drifted away b

wos and threes towards the verandah

Left by himself a moment, he came upoCarroll sauntering down a corridor, and

he latter stopped him.

“I’ve had a chat with Horsfield,” hremarked.

“Well?” said Vane.



“He may have merely meant to mak

himself agreeable, and he may hav

wished to extract information about you. I

he latter was his object, he was nosuccessful.”

“Ah!” said Vane thoughtfully. “Nairn’s

straight, anyway, and to be relied upon. ike him and his wife.”

“So do I,” Carroll agreed.

He moved away, and a few moments late

Horsfield joined Vane, who had strolled

out on to the verandah.

“I don’t know if it’s a very suitable tim

o mention it, but are you any nearer

decision about that smelter yet?” he said



“Candidly, I’d like the contract.”

“No,” said Vane. “I can’t make up my

mind, and I may postpone the mattendefinitely. It might prove mor

profitable to ship the ore out fo

reduction.”

Horsfield examined his cigar. “Of course

can’t press you; but I may perhap

suggest that as we’ll have to work togethe

n other matters, I might be able to givyou a quid pro quo.”

“That occurred to me,” said Vane, “On the

other hand, I don’t know how mucmportance I ought to attach to th

consideration.”



His companion laughed with apparen

good-humour. “Oh, well!” he answered, “

must wait until you’re ready.”

He strolled away, and presently joined hi

sister.

“How does Vane strike you?” he asked“You seem to get on with him.”

"I’ve an idea that you won’t find him eas

o influence, and the girl looked at hebrother pointedly.

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” sai

Horsfield. “In spite of that, he’s a maworth cultivating.”

He passed on to speak to Nairn, and b

and by Vane sat down beside Jessie in a



corner of a big room. It was simpl

furnished, but spacious and lofty an

ooked out across the verandah. It wa

pleasant to lounge there and feel that MisHorsfield had good-naturedly taken hi

under her wing, which seemed to describ

her attitude.

“As Mrs. Nairn tells me you are going t

England, I suppose we shall not see you i

Vancouver for some months,” she said

presently. “This city really isn’t a badplace to live in.”

Vane felt gratified. She implied that he

would be an acquisition and included hi

among the number of her acquaintances. “

fancy I shall find it a particularly pleasan

one,” he responded. “Indeed, I’m incline



o be sorry I’ve made arrangements t

eave it very shortly.”

“That is pure good-nature,” his companioaughed.

She changed the subject, and Vane found

her conversation entertaining. She sainothing of any consequence, but she knew

how to make a glance or a change

nflection expressive. He was sorry whe

she left him, but she smiled at him beforshe moved away.

“If you and Mr. Carroll care to call, I a

generally at home in the afternoon,” shsaid.

She crossed the room, and Vane, who





“But the tickets—-”

“Pshaw!” said Vane. “If it will ease you

mind, you can send me what they cost aftehe first full house you draw.”

“How shall we address you?”

“Clermont Mineral Exploitation. I don’

want to think I’m going to lose sight o

you.”

Kitty turned away from him a moment, an

hen looked back.

“I’m afraid you must make up your mind that,” she said.

Vane could not remember his answer

hough he afterwards tried; but just then a



official strode along beside the car

calling to the passengers, and when a bel

began tolling Vane hurried the girl and he

companions on to a platform. Mrs. Marvientered the car, Elsie held up her face to

kiss him before she disappeared, and h

and Kitty were left alone. She held out he

hand, and a liquid gleam crept into heeyes.

“We can’t thank you properly,” she said

“Good-bye.”

“No,” Vane protested. “You mustn’t say

hat.”

“Yes,” said Kitty firmly. “It’s good-bye

You’ll be carried on in a moment.”



Vane gazed down at her, and afterwards

wondered at what he did; but she looke

so forlorn and desolate, and the pretty fac

was so close to him. Stooping swiftly, hkissed her, and had a thrilling fancy tha

she did not recoil; then the cars lurche

forward, and he swung himself down.



CHAPTER V—THE OLD COUNTRY

A month had passed since Vane said

good-bye to Kitty, when he and Carrol

alighted one evening at a little station i

he north of England.

The train went on, and Vane stood still

ooking about him with a poignan

recollection of how he had last waited o

hat platform, sick at heart, but gatherinhis youthful courage for the effort that h

must make. It all came back to him; th

dejection, the sense of loneliness; for h

was then going out to the WesternDominion in which he had not a friend

ow he was returning prosperous an

successful. But once again the feeling o

oneliness was with him—most of thos



whom he had left behind had made

onger journey than his.

Then he noticed an elderly man in liverapproaching, and held out his hand with

smile of pleasure.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Jim,” he said

“A bit stiffer in the joints, and maybe a bi

sourer,” was the answer; then the man’

wrinkled face relaxed. “I’m main glad tsee thee, Mr. Wallace. Master wad have

come, only he‘d t’ gan t’ Manchester

suddenly.”

Vane helped him to place their baggage in

he trap, and then, gathering up the reins

bade him sit behind. After half an hour’



ride through a country rolled in ridge an

valley, Vane pulled up where a stile path

ed across a strip of meadow.

“You can drive round; we’ll be there

before you,” he said to the groom as he go

down.

Carroll and he crossed the meadow, and

passing round a clump of larches, cam

suddenly into sight of an old grey hous

with a fir wood rolling down the hillsidclose behind it. The building was long an

ow, weather-worn and stained wit

ichens where the creepers and climbin

roses left the stone exposed. The botto

row of mullioned windows opened upon

errace, and in front of the latter ran a low

wall with a mossy coping on which wa



placed urns bright with geraniums. It wa

pierced by an opening approached b

shallow stairs on which a peacock stood

and between them and the two mestretched a sweep of lawn. A couple o

minutes later a lady met them in the hal

and held out her hand to Vane effusively

She was middle-aged, and had once beehandsome, Carroll thought, but there wer

wrinkles about her eyes, which had a hin

of hardness in them.

“Welcome home, Wallace,” she said. “I

should not be difficult to look upon th

Dene as that—you were here so ofte

once upon a time.”

“Thank you,” said Vane. “I felt tempted to

ask Jim to drive me round by the Low



Wood; I wanted to see the place again.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” and the lady smile

sympathetically. “The house is shut up andgoing to pieces. It would have bee

depressing to-night.”

Vane presented Carroll. Mrs. Chisholm’manner was gracious; but for no particula

reason Carroll wondered if she woul

have extended the same welcome t

either, had his comrade not come back thdiscoverer of a mine.

“Tom was sorry he couldn’t wait to mee

you, but he had to leave for Manchester osome urgent business,” she informe

Vane, and looked round as a girl with

disordered hair came up to them.





surmised that her daughter’s remarks ha

not altogether pleased her. She, however

chatted with them until the man who ha

driven them appeared with their baggagewhen they were shown their respectiv

rooms.

Vane was the first to go down, andreaching the hall found nobody there

hough a clatter of dishes and clink o

silver suggested that a meal was bein

aid out in an adjoining room. Sittindown near the hearth, he looked abou

him.

His eyes rested on many objects that h

recognised, but as his glance travelled t

and fro it occurred to him that much o

what he saw conveyed a hint that econom



was needful.

By and by he heard a patter of feet, an

ooking up saw a girl descending the stairn the fading stream of light. She was cla

n trailing white, which gleamed agains

he dark oak and rustled softly as it flowe

about a tall, finely-outlined and finelypoised figure. She had hair of dark brow

with paler lights in its curling tendrils

gathered back from a neck that showed

faintly warmer whiteness, than the snowfabric beneath it. It was, however, he

face which seized Vane’s attention; the

evel brows, the quiet, deep brown eyes

he straight, cleanly-cut nose, and th

subtle suggestion of steadfastness an

pride which they all conveyed. He ros

with a cry that had pleasure and eagernes



n it: “Evelyn!”

She came down, moving lightly but, as h

noticed, with a rhythmic grace, and laid firm, cool hand in his.

“I’m glad to see you back, Wallace,” she

said. “But you have changed.”

“I’m not sure that’s kind. In some way

you haven’t changed at all; I would hav

known you anywhere.”

“Nine years is a long time to remembe

any one.”

Vane had seen few women during tha

period; but he was not a fool, and h

recognised that this was no occasion fo

an attempt at gallantry. There was nothin



coquettish in Evelyn’s words, nor wer

hey ironical. She had answered in th

ranquil, matter-of-fact manner which, a

he remembered, usually characterised her

“It’s a little while since you landed, isn’

t?” she added.

“A week,” said Vane. “I’d some busines

n London, and then I went on to look u

Lucy. She had just gone up to town, and

missed her. I shall go up again to see heas soon as she answers my note.”

“It won’t be necessary. She’s coming here

for a fortnight very soon.”

“That’s kind,” said Vane. “Whom have

o thank for suggesting it?”



“Does it matter? It was a natural thing t

ask your only sister—who is a friend o

mine. We have plenty of room, and the

place is quiet.”

“It used not to be. If I remember, you

mother generally had it full part of th

year.”

“Things have changed,” said Evely

quietly.

Vane was baffled by something in he

manner. Evelyn had never been effusive—

hat was not her way—but now, while sh

was cordial, she did not seem disposed tresume their acquaintance where it ha

been broken off. After all, he could hardl

have expected this.



“Mabel is like you, as you used to be,” h

said. “It struck me as soon as I saw her

but when she began to talk there was

difference.”

“Yes,” she said. “I think you’re right in

both respects. Mopsy has the courage o

her convictions. She’s an open rebel.”

There was no bitterness in her tone

Evelyn’s manner was never pointed, bu

Vane fancied that she had said a meaninghing, one that might explain what he foun

puzzling in her attitude, when he held th

key to it. Then she went on: “Mopsy wa

dubious about you before you arrived, bu

’m pleased to say she now seem

reassured.”



Then Carroll came down, and a few

moments later Mrs. Chisholm appeare

and they went in to dinner in a low

ceilinged room. Nobody said anything omportance, but by and by Mabel turned t

Vane.

“I suppose you have brought your pistolwith you,” she said.

“I never owned one,” Vane informed her.

The girl looked at him with an excellen

assumption of incredulity. “Then you hav

never shot anybody in British Columbia?”

Carroll laughed, as if this greatly please

him, but Vane’s face was rather grave as

he answered her.



“No,” he said. “I’m thankful I haven’t.”

“Then the West must be getting what the

Archdeacon—he’s Flora’s husband, youknow—calls decadent,” the girl retorted.

“She’s incorrigible,” Mrs. Chishol

nterposed with a smile.

Carroll, who was sitting next to Mabe

eaned towards her confidentially. “I

case you feel badly disappointed, I’ll leyou into a secret,” he said. “When we fee

real savage, we take the axe instead.”

Evelyn fancied that Vane winced at thisbut Mabel looked openly regretful.

“Can either of you pick up a handkerchie

going at full gallop on horseback?” sh



nquired.

“I’m sorry I can’t, and I’ve never see

Wallace do so,” Carroll answeredaughing, and Mrs. Chisholm shook he

head at her daughter.

“Miss Clifford complained of younattention to the study of English las

quarter,” she said severely.

Mabel made no answer, though Vanehought it would have relieved her t

grimace, and by and by the meal came t

an end. Some time afterwards

Mrs. Chisholm rose from her seat in thdrawing-room.

“We keep early hours at the Dene, but you



will retire when you like,” she said. “A

Tom is away, I had better tell you that you

will find syphons and whisky in th

smoking-room. I have had the lamighted.”

“Thank you,” Vane replied with a smile

“I’m afraid you have taken more troublon our account than you need have done

Except on special occasions we hav

generally confined ourselves to stron

green tea.”

Mabel looked at him in amazement. “Oh!

she said, “the West is certainly decadent

You should be here when the otter hound

are out. Why, it was only—-”

She broke off abruptly beneath he



mother’s withering glance, and when the

were left alone, Vane and Carroll strolled

out upon the terrace, pipe in hand.

“I suppose you could put in a few week

here,” Vane remarked.

“I could,” Carroll replied. “There’s an—atmosphere—about these old houses tha

appeals to me, perhaps because we hav

nothing like it in Canada. Besides, I thin

your friends mean to make thingpleasant.”

“I’m glad you like them.”

Carroll understood that his comrad

would not resent a candid expression o

opinion. “I do; the girls in particular. The



nterest me. The younger one’s of a typ

hat’s common in our country, though it’

generally given room for fre

development into something useful thereMabel’s chaffing at the curb. It remains to

be seen if she’ll kick, and hurt herself i

doing so, presently.”

Vane, who remembered that Evelyn had

said something to the same effect, ha

already discovered that Carroll possesse

a keen insight in certain matters.

“And her sister?” he suggested.

“You won’t mind my saying that I’mnclined to be sorry for her? She ha

earned repression—been driven into line

That girl has character, but it’s being



cramped and stunted. You live in walled

n compartments in this country.”

Vane strolled along the terracehoughtfully. He was not offended, and h

understood his companion’s attitude. Lik

other men of education and goo

upbringing, driven by unrest or disaster the untrammelled life of the bush, Carrol

had gained sympathy as well a

knowledge. Facing facts candidly, h

seldom indulged in decided protesagainst any of them. On the other hand

Vane was on occasion liable to outbreak

of indignation.

“Well,” said the latter at length, “I gues

t’s time to go to bed.”



CHAPTER VI—UPON THE

HEIGHTS.

Vane rose early next morning, as he had

been accustomed to do, and taking a towe

with him made his way across dew

meadows and between tall hedgerows the tarn. Stripping where the rabbit

cropped sward met the mossy boulders, h

swam out joyously, breasting the littl

ripples which splashed and sparklebeneath the breeze that had got up with th

sun. Coming back where the water lay i

shadow beneath a larch wood, which a

yet had not wholly lost its vivid green, hdisturbed the paddling moor-hens and pu

up a mallard from a clump of swayin

reeds. Then he dressed and turne

homewards.



Scrambling over a limestone wall tufte

hick with parsley fern, he noticed Mabe

stooping down over an object which laamong the heather where a rough cartroa

approached a wooden bridge. On joinin

her, he saw that it was a finely-built cano

with a hole in one bilge she waexamining. She looked up at him ruefully

as she said, “Very sad, isn’t it? Tha

stupid Little did it with his clumsy cart.”

“I think it could be mended,” Vane

replied.

“Old Beavan—he’s the wheelwright—said it couldn’t, and dad said I coul

hardly expect him to send the canoe bac

o Kingston. He bought it for me at a



exhibition.” Then a thought seemed t

strike her. “Perhaps you had something to

do with canoes in Canada?”

“I used to pole one loaded wit

provisions up a river, and carry the lo

round several falls. You’re fond o

paddling.”

“I love it. I used to row the fishing-punt

but it’s too old to be safe, and now th

canoe’s smashed I can’t go out.”

“Well,” said Vane, “we’ll walk across

and see what we can find in Beavan’

shop.”

They crossed the heath to a tiny hamle

nestling in a hollow of a limestone crag



There Vane made friends with the

wheelwright, who regarded him dubiousl

at first, and obtained a piece of larc

board from him. The grizzled Nortcountryman watched him closely as he se

a plane, which is a delicate operation, an

hen raised no objection when Vane made

use of his work bench. After that, Vanewho had sawn up the board, borrowed

few tools and copper nails, and he an

Mabel went back to the canoe. On the wa

she glanced at him curiously.

“I wasn’t sure old Beavan would let yo

have the things,” she remarked. “It isn’

often he’ll lend even a hammer, but h

seemed to take to you; I think it was th

way you handled his plane.”



“It’s strange what little things win som

people’s good opinion, isn’t it?”

“Oh! don’t,” she exclaimed. “That’s howhe Archdeacon talks. I thought you wer

different.”

The man acquiesced in the rebuke, anafter an hour’s labour at the canoe

scraped the red lead he had used off hi

hands, and sat down beside the craft. B

and by he became conscious that hicompanion was regarding him with wha

seemed to be approval.

“I really think you’ll do, and we’ll geon,” she informed him. “If you had bee

he wrong kind you would have worrie

about your red hands. Still, you coul



have rubbed them on the heather, instead

of on your socks.”

“I might have thought of that,” Vaneagreed. “But, you see, I’ve bee

accustomed to wearing old clothes

Anyway, you’ll be able to launch th

canoe as soon as the joint’s dry.”

“There’s one thing I should have told

you,” the girl replied. “Dad would hav

sent the canoe away to be mended if ihadn’t been so far. He’s very good when

hings don’t ruffle him; but he hasn’t bee

fortunate lately. The lead mine takes

good deal of money.”

Vane admired her loyalty, and refrained

from taking advantage of her candour



hough there were one or two questions h

would have liked to ask. When he was las

n England, Chisholm had been generall

regarded as a man of means, though it warumoured that he was addicted t

hazardous speculations. Mabel, who di

not seem to mind his silence, went on:

“I heard Stevens—he’s the gamekeeper—

ell Beavan that dad should have been

rabbit because he’s so fond of burrowing

o doubt, that meant he couldn’t keep ouof mines.”

Vane made no comment, and to change the

subject, reminded her: “Don’t you thin

t’s getting on for breakfast time?”

“It won’t be for a good while yet. We



don’t get up early, and though Evelyn used

o, it’s different now. We went out on the

arn every morning, even in the rain; but

suppose that’s not good for one’complexion, though bothering about suc

hings doesn’t seem to be worth while

Aunt Julia couldn’t do anything fo

Evelyn, though she had her in London fosome time. Flora is our shining light.”

“What did she do?” Vane inquired.

“She married the Archdeacon, and he isn’

so very dried up. I’ve seen him smil

when I talked to him.”

“I’m not astonished at that, Mabel.”

His companion looked up at hi



demurely. “My name’s not Mabel—to

you. I’m Mopsy to the family, but my

special friends call me Mops. You’re one

of the few people one can be natural withand I’m getting sick—you won’t b

shocked at that—of having to be th

opposite.”

Half an hour later, Vane, who had seldom

had to wait so long for it, sat down t

breakfast. All he saw spoke of ease and

aste and leisure. Evelyn, who saopposite him, looked wonderfully fresh i

her white dress. Mopsy was as amusing a

she dared to be; but he felt drawn back t

he restless world again as he glanced a

his hostess and saw the wrinkles roun

her eyes and a hint of cleverly-hidde

strain in her expression. He fancied



good deal could be inferred from th

fragments of information her younges

daughter had let drop.

t was the latter who suggested that the

should picnic upon the summit of a loft

hill, from which there was a striking view

and as this met with the approval oMrs. Chisholm, who excused herself fro

accompanying them, they set out an hou

ater. The day was bright, with glarin

sunshine, and a moderate breeze drove uwisps of ragged cloud that dappled th

hills with flitting shadow.

Vane carried the provisions in a fishing

creel, and on leaving the head of th

valley they climbed leisurely up eas

slopes, slipping on the crisp hill gras



now and then. By and by they plunged int

angled heather on a bolder ridge, whic

was rent by black gullies, down which a

imes wild torrents poured. This did norouble either of the men, but Vane wa

surprised at the ease with which Evely

hreaded her way across the heath. Sh

wore a short skirt, and he noticed thsupple grace of her movements and th

delicate colour the wind had brought int

her face. She had changed since they lef

he valley. She seemed to have flung of

something, and her laugh had a gayer ring

but while she chatted with him he was stil

conscious of a subtle reserve in hemanner.

Climbing still, they reached the haunts o

he cloud-berries and brushed throug



broad patches of the snowy blossoms tha

open their gleaming cups among the mos

and heather.

Then turning the flank of a steep ascen

hey reached the foot of a shingly scree

and sat down to lunch in the war

sunshine, where the wind was cut off bhe peak above. Beneath them a great rif

opened up among the rocks, and fa

beyond the blue lake in the depths of i

hey caught the silver gleam of the distansea.

The creel was promptly emptied, an

when Mabel afterwards took Carrol

away to see if he could get up a chimne

n some neighbouring crags, Vane lay

resting on one elbow not far from Evelyn



She was looking down the long hollow

with the sunshine upon her face.

“You didn’t seem to mind the climb,” hesaid.

“I enjoyed it. I am fond of the mountains

and I have to thank you for a day amonhem.”

On the surface, the words offered a

opening for a complimentary rejoinderbut Vane was too shrewd to seize it. H

had made one venture, and he surmise

hat a second one would not please her.

“They’re almost at your door,” he said

“One would imagine you could indulge i

a scramble among them whenever i



pleased you.”

“There are a good many things that look s

close and still are out of reach,” Evelyanswered with a smile that somehow

roubled him. Then her manner changed

“You are content with this?”

Vane gazed about him; at purple crags in

shadow, glistening threads of water tha

fell among the rocks, and long slopes tha

ay steeped in softest colour, under thsummer sky.

“Content is scarcely the right word for it,

he assured her. “If it wasn’t so still andserene up here, I’d be riotously happy

There are reasons for this quite apart fro

he scenery: for one, it’s pleasant to fee



hat I need do nothing but what I like fo

he next few months.”

“The sensation must be unusual. I wondef, even in your case, it will last so long.”

Vane laughed and stretched out one of hi

hands. It was lean and brown, and shcould see the marks of old scars on th

knuckles.

“In my case,” he answered, “it has onlcome once in a lifetime, and if it isn’t to

presumptuous, I think I’ve earned it.” H

ndicated his battered fingers. “That’s th

result of holding a wet and slippery drilbut those aren’t the only marks I carr

about with me—though I’ve been mor

fortunate than many fine comrades.”



“I suppose one must get hurt now an

hen,” said Evelyn, who had notice

something that pleased her in his voice a

he concluded. “After all, a bruise that’only skin-deep doesn’t trouble one long

and no doubt some scars are honourable

t’s slow corrosion that’s the deadliest.”

She broke off with a laugh, and added“Moralising’s out of place on a day lik

his, and they’re not frequent in the North

n a way, that’s their greatest charm.”

Vane nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “On the face of it, the

orth is fickle, though to those who know

t that’s a misleading term. To some of us

t’s always the same, and its dar

grimness makes you feel the radiance o



ts smile. For all that, I think we’re goin

o see a sudden change in the weather.”

Half of the wide circle their view woulhave commanded was cut off by the scree

but long wisps of leaden cloud began t

stream across the crags above

ntensifying, until it seemed unnatural, thglow of light and colour on the rest.

“I wonder if Mopsy is leading Mr. Carrol

nto any mischief; they have been gonsome time,” said Evelyn. “She has a tric

of getting herself, and other people int

difficulties. I suppose he is an old frien

of yours, unless, perhaps, he’s acting a

your secretary.”

Vane’s eyes twinkled. “If he came in any



particular capacity, it’s as bear-leader

You see, there are a good many things I’ve

forgotten in the bush, and as I left thi

country young, there are no doubt some never learned.”

“And so you make Mr. Carroll you

confidential adviser. How did he gain thnecessary experience?”

“That,” replied Vane, “is more than I can

ell you, but I’m inclined to believe he habeen at one of the universities; Toronto

most likely. Anyhow, on the whole he act

as a judicious restraint.”

“But don’t you really know anything abou

him?”



“Only what some years of clos

companionship have taught me.”

Evelyn looked surprised, and he spreaout his hands in a humorous manner. “A

good many people have had to take me i

hat way, and they seemed willing to do

so; the thing’s not uncommon in the WestWhy should I be more particular than the

were?”

Just then Mabel and Carroll appearedThe latter’s garments were stained i

places as if he had been scrambling ove

mossy rocks, and his pockets bulged.

“We’ve found some sundew and two fern

don’t know, as well as all sorts of othe

hings,” she announced.





drove across the ragged summit. The

reached the latter at length and stopped

bracing themselves against a rush of chill

breeze, while they looked down upon wilderness of leaden-coloured rock. Lon

rails of mist were creeping in and ou

among the crags, and here and ther

masses of it gathered round the higheslopes.

“I think the Pike’s grandest in thi

weather,” Mabel declared. “Look belowMr. Carroll, and you’ll see the mountain i

ike a starfish. It has prongs running ou

from it.”

Carroll did as she directed him, an

noticed three diverging ridges springin

off from the shoulder of the peak. Thei



crests, which were narrow, led dow

owards the valley, but their sides fell i

rent and fissured crags to great blac

hollows.

“You can get down two of them,” Mabe

went on. “The first is the nearest to th

road, but the third’s the easiest. It takeyou to the Hause; that’s the gap between i

and the next hill.”

A few big drops began to fall, and Evelycut her sister’s explanations short.

“We had better make a start at once,” she

said.

They set out, Mabel and Carroll leadin

and drawing farther away from the tw



behind; and the rain began in earnest a

hey descended. Rock slope and scattere

stones were slippery, and Vane found i

difficult to keep his footing on some oheir lichened surfaces. He, however, wa

relieved to see that his companion seldo

hesitated, and they made their wa

downwards cautiously, until, near the spowhere the three ridges diverged, the

walked into a belt of drifting mist. Th

peak above them was suddenly blotte

out, and Evelyn bade Vane hail Carrol

and Mabel, who had disappeared. He sen

a shout ringing through the vapour, and

caught a faint and unintelligible replyafter which a flock of sheep fled past an

dislodged a rush of sliding stones. Vane

heard the latter rattle far down th

hillside, and when he called again a blas



of chilly wind whirled his voice away

There was a faint echo above him, an

hen silence again.

“It looks as if they were out of hearing

and the slope ahead of us seem

uncommonly steep by the way those stone

went down,” he remarked. “Do you thinMabel has taken Carroll down th

Stanghyll ridge?”

“I can’t tell,” said Evelyn. “It’comforting to remember that she knows i

better than I do. I think we ought to mak

for the Hause; there’s only one plac

hat’s really steep. Keep up to the left

ittle; the Scale Crags must be clos

beneath us.”





CHAPTER VII—STORM-STAYED.

The weather was not the only thing tha

roubled Vane as he stumbled on through

he mist. Any unathletic tourist from th

cities could have gone up without muc

difficulty by the way they had ascended

but it was different coming down on th

opposite side of the mountain. There, thei

route laid across banks of sharp-pointe

stones that rested lightly on the steeslope, interspersed with out-croppin

rocks which were growing dangerousl

slippery; and a wilderness of crag

pierced by three great radiating chasmay beneath.

After half an hour’s arduous scramble, h

decided that they must be close upon th



op of the last rift, and stood still for

minute looking about him. The mist wa

now so thick that he could scarcely se

hirty yards ahead, but the way it drovpast him indicated that it was blowing u

a hollow. On one hand a rampart o

hillside loomed dimly out of it; in fron

here was a dark patch that looked like thface of a dripping rock; and between th

atter and the hill a boggy stretch of gras

ran back into the vapour. Then he turned

and glanced at Evelyn with some concern

Her skirt was heavy with moisture, an

he rain dripped from the brim of her hat

but she smiled at him reassuringly.

“It’s not the first time I’ve got wet,” sh

said.



Vane felt relieved on one account. He had

magined that a woman hated to fee

draggled and untidy, and he was willing to

own that in his case fatigue usually tendeowards shortness of temper. Though th

scramble had scarcely taxed his powers

he fancied that Evelyn, had already don

as much as one could expect of her.

“I must prospect about a bit,” he said

“Scardale’s somewhere below us; but if

remember, it’s an awkward descent to thehead of it, and I’m not sure of the righ

entrance to the Hause.”

“I’ve only once been down this way, and

hat was a long while ago,” Evely

replied.



Vane left her, and plodded away across

he grass. When he had grown scarcel

distinguishable in the haze, he turned an

waved his hand.

“I know where we are; the head of th

beck’s close by,” he cried.

Evelyn joined him at the edge of a trickl

of water splashing in a peaty hollow, and

hey followed it down, seeing only od

strips of hillside amidst the vapour, untiat length the ground grew softer and Vane

going first, sank among the long gree

moss almost to his knees.

“That won’t do. Stand still, please,” h

said. “I’ll try a little to the right.”





She yielded, and after he had held up th

garment while she put it on, he spok

again:

“There’s another thing; I’m going to carr

you for the next hundred yards, or possibl

farther.”

“No,” said Evelyn firmly. “On that poin

my determination is as strong as yours.”

Vane made a sign of acquiescence. “Youcan have your way for a minute; I expect i

will be long enough.”

He was correct, Evelyn moved forward pace or two, and then stopped with th

skirt she had gathered up brushing th

quivering emerald moss, and her boots



which were high ones, hidden in the latter

She had some difficulty in pulling the

out. Then Vane coolly picked her up.

“All you have to do is to keep still for th

next few minutes,” he informed her in

most matter-of-fact voice.

Evelyn did not move, though had he show

any sign of self-conscious hesitation sh

would at once have shaken herself loose

He was conscious of a thrill and a certaistirring of his blood, but this, he decided

must be sternly ignored, and his tas

occupied most of his attention. It was no

an easy one, and he stumbled once o

wice, but he accomplished it and set th

girl down safely on firmer ground.



“Now,” he said, “there’s only the drop to

he dale, but we must endeavour to keep

out of the beck.”

His voice and air were unembarrassed

hough he was breathless, and Evely

fancied that in this and the incident of th

acket he had revealed the forceful, naturamanners of the West. It was the firs

glimpse she had had of them, though sh

had watched for one, and she was no

displeased. The man had merely donwhat was most advisable, with practica

sense.

A little farther on, a shoot of falling wate

swept out of the mist above and cam

splashing down a crag, spread out i

frothing threads. It flowed across thei



path, reunited in a deep gully which the

sprang across, and then fell tumultuousl

nto the beck, which was now ten o

welve feet below on one side of themThey clung to the rock as they traced i

downwards, stepping cautiously fro

edge to ledge. At times a stone plunged

nto the mist beneath them, and Vanegrasped the girl’s arm or held out

steadying hand, but he was never fussy o

needlessly concerned. When she wante

help, it was offered at the right moment

but that was all, and she thought that ha

she been alarmed, which was not the case

her companion’s manner would have beemore comforting than persistent solicitude

He was, she decided, one who could b

relied upon in an emergency.





Golden Fleece,’ we’ll get something to

eat there and borrow you dry clothes

He’ll drive us home afterwards.”

Evelyn made no objections. She was ver

wet and beginning to feel weary, and they

were some distance from home. Sh

restored him his jacket, and a few minuteater they entered an old hostelry which

ike many others among these hills, was

farm as well as an inn. The landlady, who

recognised Vane with pleased surpriseook Evelyn away with her, and

afterwards provided Vane with some o

her husband’s clothes. Then she lighted

fire, and when she had laid out a meal i

he guest-room, Evelyn came in, attired i

a dress of lilac print.



“It’s Maggie Bell’s,” she explained

demurely. “Her mother’s things wer

rather large. Adam is away at a sheep

auction, and they have only the trap hwent in, but they expect him back in a

hour or so.”

“Then we must wait,” said Vane. “Worsemisfortunes have befallen me.”

They made an excellent meal, and the

Vane drew up a wicker chair to the firefor Evelyn and sat down opposite to her

Outside, the rain dripped from the moss

flagstone eaves, and the song of the rive

stole in monotonous cadence into th

room.

Evelyn was silent and Vane said nothing



for a while. He had been in the air all day

and though this was nothing new to him, h

was content to sit lazily still and leave th

opening of conversation to his companionn the meanwhile it was pleasant to glanc

owards her now and then. The pale-tinte

dress became her, and he felt that the roo

would have looked less cheerful had shbeen away.

The effect she had on him was difficult t

analyse, though he lazily tried. Shappealed to him by the grace of he

carriage, the poise of her head, he

delicate colouring, and the changing light

n her eyes; but behind these point

something stronger and deeper wa

expressed through them. He fancied sh

possessed qualities he had not hithert



encountered, which would become mor

precious when they were fully understood

He thought of her as wholesome in mind

one who sought for the best; but she waalso endowed with an ethereal somethin

hat could not be defined.

Then a simile struck him: she was like thsnow that towers high into the empyrean i

British Columbia; in which he was wrong

for there was warm human passion in th

girl, though it was sleeping yet. By and byhe told himself, he was getting absurdl

sentimental, and he instinctively fumble

for his pipe and stopped. Evelyn notice

his and smiled.

“You needn’t hesitate,” she said. “The

Dene is redolent of cigars, and Geral



smokes everywhere when he is at home.”

“Is he likely to turn up?” Vane asked. “It’s

ever so long since I’ve seen him.”

“I’m afraid not. In fact, Gerald’s rathe

under a cloud just now. I may as well tel

you this, because you are sure to hear of isooner or later. He has been extravagant

and, as he assures us, extraordinaril

unlucky.”

“Stocks and shares?” suggested Vane

who was acquainted with some of th

family tendencies.

Evelyn hesitated a moment. “That woul

have been more readily forgiven him.

believe he has speculated on the turf a



well.”

Vane was surprised, since he understood

hat Gerald Chisholm was a barrister, andbetting on the turf was not an amusemen

he would have associated with tha

profession.

“Then,” he said thoughtfully, “I must ru

up and see him later on.”

Evelyn felt sorry she had spoken. Geralneeded help, which his father was not in

position to offer. She was not censoriou

of other people’s faults; but it wa

mpossible to be blind to some aspects oher brother’s character, and she would

have preferred that Vane should not mee

Gerald while the latter was embarrasse









Western Canada?”

“Some of them marry; I suppose that’s th

most natural thing,” said Vane with an aiof reflection that amused her. “Anyway

hey have plenty of opportunities. There’

a preponderating number of unattache

young men in the newly-opened parts ohe Dominion.”

“Things are different here, or perhaps w

want more than they do across thAtlantic,” said Evelyn. “What becomes o

he others?”

“They wait in the hotels; learstenography and typewriting, and go int

offices and stores.”







rained for it. He had noticed that amon

men it was the cruder and less develope

organisations that proved hardiest i

adverse situations; one needed a strain oprimitive vigour. There was, it seemed

only one means of release for her, and tha

was a happy marriage. But a marriag

could not be happy unless the suitor waall that she desired, and Evelyn would b

fastidious, though her family would, n

doubt, only look for wealth and station

He imagined that this was where th

rouble lay. He would wait and keep hi

eyes open. Shortly after he arrived at thi

decision, there was a rattle of wheeloutside and the landlord, who came in

greeted him with rude cordiality. I

another minute or two Vane handed

Evelyn into the gig, and Bill drove the



home through the rain.



CHAPTER VIII—LUCY VANE.

Bright sunshine streamed down out of

cloudless sky when Vane stood talking

with his sister upon the terrace in front o

he Dene one afternoon shortly after hi

ascent of the Pike in Evelyn’s company

He leaned against the low wall, frowning

for Lucy had hitherto avoided a discussio

of the subject which occupied thei

attention, and now, as he would have saidhe could not make her listen to reason.

She stood in front of him, with the point o

her parasol pressed firmly into the graveand her lips set, though there was a smil

which suggested forbearance in her eyes

Lucy was tall and spare of figure; a yea

younger than her brother, and of somewha



determined character. She earned he

iving in a northern manufacturing town b

ecturing on domestic economy for th

public authorities. Vane understood thashe also took part in Suffrage propaganda

She had a thin, forceful face, which wa

seldom characterised by repose.

“After all,” Vane broke out, “what I’ve

been urging is a very natural thing. I don

ike to think of your being forced to wor

as you are doing, and I’ve tried to showhat it wouldn’t cost me any self-denial t

make you an allowance. There’s no reaso

why you should be at the beck and call o

hose committees any longer.”

Lucy’s smile grew plainer. “I don’t think

hat describes my position ver



accurately.”

“It’s possible,” Vane agreed with a trace

of dryness. “No doubt you insist on thchairman or lady president giving way t

you; but that doesn’t affect the question

You have to work, anyway.”

“But I like it, and it keeps me in som

degree of comfort.”

The man turned half impatiently anglanced about him. The front of the ol

grey house was flooded with light, and th

awn below the terrace glowe

uminously green. The shadows of thhollies and cypresses were thin an

unsubstantial, but where a beac

overarched the grass, Evelyn an



Mrs. Chisholm, attired in light draperies

reclined in basket chairs. Carroll, wh

wore thin grey tweed, stood close by

alking to Mabel, and Chisholm sat a littlapart upon a bench with a newspaper i

his hand. He looked half asleep, and

anguorous, stillness pervaded the whol

scene.

“Wouldn’t you like this kind of thing a

well?” he asked. “Of course, I mean wha

t implies—the power to take life easiland get as much enjoyment as possible ou

of it. It wouldn’t be difficult, if you woul

only take what I’d be glad to give you.

He indicated the languid figures in th

foreground. “You could, for instance

spend your time among folks like these

and, after all, it’s what you were meant to











nconsequential in his generosity,” Carrol

rejoined. “I didn’t know he was intereste

n that kind of thing, but as I don’t like t

be outdone by my partner, I’ll subscribhe same.”

“Thanks,” said Lucy, who made an entr

n a pocket-book in a businesslike manner

They strolled along the terrace together

and as they went down the steps to th

awn, Carroll inquired with a smile“Have you tackled Chisholm yet?”

“I would have done so had it appeare

ikely to have been of any use, but I nevewaste powder and shot,” Lucy replied. “A

man of his restricted views would soone

subscribe handsomely to put us down.”



Carroll turned to his comrade. “Are yo

regretting the ten guineas? You don’t look

pleased.”

“No,” said Vane; “the fact is, I wanted to

do something which wasn’t allowed. I’v

met with the same disillusionment here a

did in British Columbia.”

Lucy looked up at her brother. “Did yo

attempt to give somebody money there?”

“I did,” said Vane shortly. “It’s not worth

discussing, and anyway she wouldn

isten to me.”

They strolled on, Vane frowning, while

Carroll, who had seen signs of suppresse

nterest in Lucy’s face, smiled



unobserved. Neither he nor the others ha

noticed Mabel, who was following them.

They joined the rest, and some timafterwards, Mrs. Chisholm addresse

Carroll, who was lying back in a deep

chair with his eyes, which were hal

closed, turned in Lucy’s direction.

“Are you asleep, or thinking hard?” sh

asked.

“Not more than half asleep,” Carrol

protested. “I was trying to remember ‘A

Dream of Fair Women.’ It struck me as a

suitable occupation for a drowsy summeafternoon in a place like this, but I mus

confess that it was Miss Vane who put i

nto my head. She reminded me of one o



wo of the heroines not long ago, when sh

was championing the cause of th

suffragist.”

“You mustn’t imagine that English women

n general sympathise with her, or tha

such ideas are popular at the Dene,

Mrs. Chisholm rejoined.

Carroll smiled reassuringly. “I wouldn’

have imagined the latter for a moment

But, as I said, on an afternoon of this kinone can be excused for indulging i

romantic fancies; and don’t you see wha

brought those old-time heroines into m

mind—I mean the elusive resemblance t

heir latter-day prototype?”

Mrs. Chisholm looked puzzled. “No,” sh



declared. “One of them was Greek

another early English, and the finest of al

was the Hebrew maid. As they couldn’

even have been like one another, howcould they have collectively borne

resemblance to anybody else?”

“That’s logical, on the surface. Todigress, why do you most admir

Jephthah’s daughter, the gentle

Gileadite?”

His hostess affected surprise. “Isn’t i

evident, when one remembers her patien

sacrifice, her fine sense of famil

honour?”

Carroll felt that this was much the kind o

sentiment one could have expected fro



her; and he did her justice in believing tha

t was genuine and that she was capable o

acting up to her convictions. His glanc

rested on Vane for a moment, and theatter was startled as he guessed hi

comrade’s thought.

Evelyn sat near him, reclining languidly ia wicker chair. She had been silent and

now her face was in repose, the signs o

reserve and repression were plainer tha

ever. There was, however, pride in it, andhe felt that she was endowed with

keener and finer sense of family honou

han her mother. Her brother’s career wa

hreatened by the results of his ow

mprudence, and though her father coul

hardly be compared with the Gileadit

warrior, there was, Vane imagined, a



disturbing similarity between the tw

cases. It was unpleasant to contemplat

he possibility of this girl’s being called

upon to bear the cost of her relationsmisfortunes or follies. Carroll, however

ooked across at Lucy with a smile.

“You don’t agree with Mrs. Chisholm?”he suggested.

“No,” said Lucy firmly. “Leaving th

nstance in question out, there are tomany people who transgress and the

expect somebody else—a woman as a rul

—to serve as a sacrifice.”

“I don’t agree, either,” Mabel broke in

“I’d sooner have been Cleopatra or Joa

or Arc—only she was burned, poo



hing.”

“That was only what she might hav

expected. An unpleasant fate generallovertakes people who go about disturbin

hings,” Mrs. Chisholm said severely.

The speech was characteristic, and thothers smiled. It would have astonishe

hem had Mrs. Chisholm sympathised wit

he rebel idealist whose beckoning vision

ed to the clash of arms. Then Vane turnedo his comrade.

“Aren’t you getting off the track?” h

asked. “I don’t see the drift of youprevious remarks.”

“Well,” said Carroll, with an air o





“I wonder if you have hit it,” he said wit

a laugh. “You can reach the Wall from

here in a day’s ride.”

“The Wall?”

“The Roman Wall; Hadrian’s Wall. I

believe one authority states they had garrison of 100,000 men to keep it.”

Chisholm joined the group. He was a tal

rather florid-faced man with a formamanner, dressed immaculately i

creaseless clothes.

“The point Carroll raises is interesting,he remarked. “While I don’t know how

ong it takes for a strain to die out, ther

must have been a large civil populatio



iving near the wall, and we know that th

characteristics of the Teutonic peoples

who followed the Romans, still remain.”

obody else had any comment to make

and when by and by the group broke up

Evelyn was left alone for a few minute

with Mabel.

“Gerald should have been sent to Canad

nstead of Oxford,” she said. “Then h

might have got as rich as Wallace Vaneand Mr. Carroll.”

“What makes you think they’re rich?

Evelyn asked with reproof in her tone.

“Oh!” said Mabel, “we all knew the

were rich before they came, and they wer







feelings towards her were, but he signall

failed to elucidate the point. It was onl

clear that he was more contented in he

presence, and that, apart from her physicacomeliness, she had a stimulating effec

upon his mental faculties, although so fa

as he could remember she seldom sai

anything remarkable. Then he wonderehow she regarded him, and to this questio

he could find no answer. For the most par

here was a reserve he found more piquan

han deterrent about her, and he wa

conscious that while willing to talk wit

him freely she was still holding him off a

arm’s length.

On the whole, he could not be absolutel

sure that he desired to get much nearer

Though he failed to admit this clearly, hi







Vane frowned at this, but Carrol

continued undeterred: “You want pulling

up after the way you have been indulgin

n a reckless extravagance, which I feecompelled to point out is new to you. Th

cheque drawn in favour of Geral

Chisholm rather astonished me. Have yo

said anything about it to his relatives?”

“I haven’t,” Vane answered shortly.

“Then, judging by the little I saw of him, should consider it most unlikely that h

has made any allusion to the matter. Th

next cheque was more surprising; I mea

he one you gave his father.”

“They were both loans.”







His heart beat more rapidly than usual a

hey turned back towards the house, but h

was perfectly composed when, some littl

ime later, he sat down beside Chisholmwho was lounging away the morning o

he lawn.

“I’ve been across to the village for elegram I expected,” he announced. “Th

news is encouraging.”

He read it to Chisholm, who hadetermined on the line he meant to follow

“You’re a fortunate man,” he said

“There’s probably no reasonable wishat you can’t gratify.”

“There are things one can’t buy wit



dollars,” Vane replied.

“That is very true. They’re often the mos

valuable. On the other hand, some of themay now and then be had for the asking

Besides, when one has a sanguin

emperament, it’s difficult to believe tha

anything one sets one’s heart upon is quitunattainable.”

Vane wondered if he had been given a

hint. Chisholm’s manner was suggestivand Carroll’s remarks had had an effect o

him. He sat silent, and Chisholm spok

again: “If I were in your place, I shoul

feel I had all I could desire within m

reach.”

Vane was becoming sure that his comrade



had been right. Chisholm would not hav

harped upon the same idea unless he ha

ntended to convey some particula

meaning, but the man’s methods rousedVane’s dislike. He could face opposition

and he would sooner have bee

discouraged than judiciously prompted.

“Then if I offered myself as a suitor fo

Evelyn, you would not think m

presumptuous?” he said.

Chisholm was somewhat surprised at hi

abruptness, but he smiled reassuringly.

“No,” he said; “I can’t see why I shouldo so. You are in a position to maintain a

wife in comfort, and I don’t think anybod

could take exception to your character.



He paused a moment. “I suppose you hav

some idea of how Evelyn regards you?”

“I haven’t the faintest notion,” Vaneconfessed. “That’s the trouble.”

“Would you like me to mention the

matter?”

“No,” said Vane decidedly. “In fact,

must ask you not to do anything of th

kind. I only wished to make sure of yougood will, and now I’m satisfied on tha

point, I’d sooner wait, and speak—whe

t seems judicious.”

Chisholm nodded. “Yes,” he said

ndulgently, “I dare say that would b

wisest.”



Vane, who thanked him, waited. He

fancied that the transaction, which seeme

he best name for it, was not complete yet

but he meant to leave what should followo his companion. He would not help th

man.

“There’s a matter which had better bmentioned now, distasteful as it is,

Chisholm said at length. “I can settl

nothing upon Evelyn. As you must hav

guessed, my affairs are in a far fropromising state. Indeed, I’m afraid I ma

have to ask your indulgence when the loa

falls due, and I don’t mind confessing tha

he prospect of Evelyn’s making what

hink is a suitable marriage is a relief t

me.”



Vane’s feelings were somewhat mixed

but contempt figured prominently amon

hem. He could find no fault wit

Chisholm’s desire to safeguard hidaughter’s future, but he was convince

hat the man looked for more than this. H

felt he had been favoured with a delicat

hint, to which his companion expected aanswer.

“Well,” he said curtly, “you need not be

concerned about the loan. To go a littlefarther, I should naturally take an interes

n the welfare of my wife’s relatives.

don’t think I can say anything more in th

meanwhile.”

He knew that he might have spoken mor

plainly without offence, when he saw



Chisholm’s smile, but the latter looked

satisfied.

“Those are the views I expected you thold,” he declared. “I believ

Mrs. Chisholm will share my gratificatio

f you find Evelyn disposed to listen t

you.”

Vane left him shortly afterwards with a

sense of shame. He felt he had bought th

girl and that, if she ever heard of it, shwould find it hard to forgive him for th

course he had taken. By and by he me

Carroll, who looked at him inquiringly.

“I’ve had a talk with Chisholm,” sai

Vane. “It has upset my temper—I fee

mean. There’s no doubt that you wer



right.”

Carroll smiled and showed that he coul

guess what was in his comrade’s mind. “wouldn’t worry too much about the thing,

he replied. “The girl probably understand

he situation. It’s not pleasant, but I expec

she’s more or less resigned to it. She can’help herself.”

Vane gazed at him with anger. “Does tha

make it any better? Is it any comfort tme?”

“Take her out of it. If she has any liking

for you, she’ll thank you for doing safterwards.”

Vane, who made no answer, strode away



and nobody saw any more of him for a

hour or two.

He had her father’s consent, but he felt hcould not plead his cause with Evelyn jus

hen. With her parents on his side, she wa

at a disadvantage, and he shrank from th

hought that she might be forced upon hiagainst her will. This was not what h

desired, and she might hate him for i

afterwards. She was very alluring; ther

had been signs of an unusual gentleness iher manner, but he wanted time to win he

favour, aided only by such gifts as he had

been endowed with. It cost him

determined effort, but he made up his min

o wait.



CHAPTER X—WITH THE OTTER

HOUNDS.

A week or two had slipped away sinc

Vane’s eventful interview, when he

ounged upon the terrace after breakfas

chatting with Carroll.

Suddenly a long, faint howl came up th

valley, and was answered by another in

deeper note. Then a confused swellinclamour, which slightly resembled th

sound of chiming bells, broke out

softened by the distance. Carroll stoppe

and listened.

“What in the name of wonder is that?” h

asked. “The first of it reminded me of

coyote howling, but the rest’s more lik



he noise the timber wolves make in th

bush at night.”

“You haven’t made a bad shot,” Vaneaughed. “It’s a pack of otter hounds ho

upon the scent.”

The sound ceased as suddenly as it habegun, but a few moments later Mabe

came running towards the men.

“I knew the hounds met at Patten Brig, buJim was sure they’d go down-stream,” sh

cried breathlessly. “They’re coming up

and I think they’re at the pool below th

village. Get two poles—you’ll find somn the tool-shed—and come along a

once.”



She clambered into the house through

window, calling for Evelyn, and Carrol

smiled.

“We have our orders,” he remarked. “

suppose we’d better go.”

“It’s one of the popular sports up here,said Vane. “You may as well see it.”

They set out a few minutes later

accompanied by Evelyn, while Mabehurried on in front and reproached the

for their tardiness.

At length, after crossing several wefields, they came into a rushy meadow o

he edge of the river, which spread ou

nto a wide pool, fringed with alder



which had not yet lost their leaves and th

barer withes of osiers. There was a swif

stream at the head of it, and a lon

rippling shallow at the tail, and a vermixed company was scattered along th

bank and in the water.

A red-coated man with whip and horstood in the tail outflow, and three or fou

more with poles in their hands wer

spread out across the stream behind him

These and one or two in the head streaappeared by their dress to belong to th

hunt, but the rest, among whom were a few

women, were attired in everyday garment

and of different walks in life: artisans

abourers, people of leisure, and a belate

ourist or two.





There are a good many in the river, bu

even the trout fishers, who are about a

sunrise in the hot weather and wade in th

dusk, rarely come across them. Are yogoing to take a share in the hunt?”

“No,” replied Carroll, glancin

humorously at his pole. “I don’t knowwhat I brought this thing for, unless it wa

because Mopsy sent me for it. I’d soone

stay and watch with you. Splashin

hrough a river after a little beast which don’t suppose they’d let an outsider kil

doesn’t interest me, and I don’t see why

should want to kill it, anyway. Some o

you English people have sporting ideas

can’t understand. I struck a young man th

other day—a well-educated man by th

ook of him—who was spending th



afternoon happily with a ferret by a cor

stack, killing rats with a club. He seeme

uncommonly pleased with himself becaus

he’d got four of them.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Mabel, “you’re as ba

as the silly people who call killing thing

cruelty. I wouldn’t have thought it of you.”

“I’ve seen him,” said Vane, “drop a dee

going almost as fast as a locomotiv

hrough thick brush, with a single-shorifle, and I believe he once assisted i

killing a panther in a thicket you couldn’

see two yards ahead in. The point is, tha

he meant to eat the deer, and the panthe

had been taking a rancher’s hogs.”

“Then I’m sorry I brought him,” sai



Mabel decidedly. “He’s not a sportsman.”

“I really think there’s some excuse for th

more vigorous sports,” Evelyn declared“Of course, you can’t eliminate a certai

amount of cruelty; but admitting that, isn’

t just as well that men who live in

uxurious civilisation should be willing tplod through miles of heather after grouse

risk their limbs on horseback, or spen

hours in cold water? These are bracin

hings; they imply moral discipline. Ican’t be nice to ride at a dangerous fence

or flounder down a rapid after an otte

when you’re stiff with cold. The effort t

do so must be wholesome.”

“A sure thing,” Carroll agreed. “The onl

drawback is that when you’ve got your fo



or otter, it isn’t worth anything. A good

many of the folks in the newer lands hav

o make something of the kind of effort yo

described every day. In their case, thresults are waggon-trails, valleys cleare

for orchards, new branch railroads.

suppose it’s a matter of opinion, but if I’d

put in a season’s risky work I’d soonehave a piece of land to grow fruit on, or

share in a mineral claim—you get plent

of excitement in prospecting—than a fox’

ail. But there are people in Canada wh

wouldn’t agree with me.”

He strolled along the water’s edge wit

Evelyn, and presently looked round.

“Mopsy’s gone, and I don’t see Vane,” he

said.



“After all, he’s one of us. If you’re born i

he North Country, it’s hard to keep out o

he river when you hear the otter hounds.”

They took up their station behind a growt

of alders, and for a while the dogs wen

rotting by in twos and threes or swa

about the pool, but nothing else broke thsurface of the leaden-coloured water

Then there was a cry, an outbreak o

shouting, a confused baying, and half

dozen hounds dashed past. Evelystretched out her hand.

“Look!” she said.

Carroll saw a small grey spot—the top o

he otter’s head—moving across th

slacker part of the pool, with a very slight



wedge-shaped ripple trailing away fro

t. It sank next moment; a bubble or tw

rose, and then there was nothing but th

smooth flow of water.

A horn called shrilly, a few whip-crack

rang out like pistol shots, and the dog

ook to the water, swimming slowly herand there. Men scrambled along the ban

and while some, entering the river

reinforced the line spread out across th

head rapid, others joined the second rowwading steadily up-stream, and splashe

about as they advanced with iron-tippe

poles. Nothing rewarded their efforts; th

dogs turned and went down-stream; an

hen suddenly everybody ran or wade

owards the tall outflow. A clamour o

shouting and baying broke out, an





reaching shoaler water it sprang ou

altogether now and then, rising and fallin

n the stronger stream with a curiou

serpentine motion. In fact, as head anbody bent in the same sinuous curves, i

ooked less like an animal than a plungin

fish. The men guarding the rapid stoo

ready with their poles, and more werwading and splashing up both sides of th

pool. The otter’s pace was getting slower

sometimes it seemed to stop, and now an

hen it vanished among the ripples. Carrol

saw that Evelyn’s face was intent, thoug

here were signs of shrinking in it.

“Now,” he said, “I’ll tell you what you

are thinking—you want that poor littl

beast to get away.”





came splashing close upon their tails lef

he river to scramble along its edge; an

hen stopped abruptly, while the dog

swam in an uncertain manner about thstill reach beyond. They came out in a few

minutes, and scampered up and dow

among the stones, evidently at fault, fo

here was no sign of the otter anywhereThe hunted creature had crept up the rus

of water among the feet of those wh

watched for it, and vanished unseen int

he sheltering depths beyond.

Evelyn sighed with relief. “I think it wil

escape,” she said. “The river’s rather ful

after the rain, which is against the dogs

and there isn’t another shallow for som

distance. Shall we go on?”



They strolled forward behind the dogs

which were again moving up-stream; bu

hey turned aside to avoid a wood, and i

was some time later when they came ouupon a rocky promontory dropping steepl

o the river. The hunt was now widely

scattered about the reach. Men crept alon

slippery ledges above the water, andmoved over steeply-slanting slopes, hal

hidden among the trees.

A few were in the river, and three or fouof the dogs were swimming; the rest

spread out in twos and threes, trotted t

and fro among the undergrowth, Carrol

did not think they were following an

scent, but a figure creeping along the foo

of the rock not far away presently seize

his attention.



“It’s Mopsy,” he said. “The foothold

doesn’t look very safe among those stones

and there seems to be deep water below.”

He called out in warning, but the girl di

not heed. The willows were thinner at th

spot she had reached, and, squeezin

herself through them, she leaned downclinging to an alder branch.

“He’s gone to holt among the roots,” sh

cried.

Three or four men came running along th

opposite bank and apparently decided tha

she was right, for the horn was soundeand here and there a dog broke through th

underbrush; then, just as the first-comer

reached the rapid, there was a splash. I



was a moment or two before Evelyn o

Carroll, who had been watching the dogs

realised what had happened, and then th

blood ebbed from the girl’s face. Mabehad disappeared.

Running a few paces forward, Carrol

saw what looked like a bundle of spreadout garments swing round in an eddy. I

washed in among the willows, and h

heard a faint cry.

“Somebody help me, quick; I’ve caught

branch.”

He could not see the girl now, but an aldebough was bending sharply, and he flung

rapid glance around him. The summit o

he rock he stood upon rose above th



rees, and though he would have faced th

risky fall had there been a better landing

t seemed impossible to alight among th

stones without a broken leg. Furthedown-stream he might reach the water b

a reckless jump, because the promontor

sloped towards it there; but he would no

be able to swim back against the currenHis position was a painful one; it looke

as if there was nothing that he could do.

ext moment men and dogs wenscrambling and swimming down the rapid

but they were in hot pursuit of the otter

which had left its hiding-place, and it wa

evident that the girl had escaped thei

attention. Carroll shouted savagely as hi

comrade appeared among the tail of th

hunt below. The others were too occupied



o heed, or perhaps concluded that he wa

urging them on; but Vane, who was in the

water, seemed to understand. In anothe

few minutes he was swimming down thpool along the edge of the alders. The

Carroll saw that Evelyn expected him t

ake some part in the rescue.

“Get down before it’s too late!” she cried

Carroll spread out his hands, as if to be

her forbearance, and while every impulsurged him to the leap he endeavoured t

keep his head.

“I can’t do any good just now,” hanswered, knowing he was right and ye

feeling horribly ashamed. “She’s holdin

on, and Wallace will reach her in a



moment or two.”

Evelyn broke out on him in an agony o

fear and anger. “You coward!” she cried“Will you let her drown?”

She turned and ran forward, but Carrol

dreading that she meant to attempt thdescent, seized her shoulder and held he

fast. While he grappled with her, Vane’s

voice rose from below, and he let hi

hands drop.

“Wallace has her! There’s no more

danger,” he said.

Evelyn suddenly recovered some degre

of calm.

Standing, breathless, a pace or two apart



hey saw Vane and the girl appear from

beneath the willows and wash awa

down-stream. The man was swimming bu

he was hampered by his burden, and onche and Mabel sank almost from sight in

whirling eddy. Carroll said nothing, but h

urned and ran along the sloping ridge

until where the fall was less and the treewere thinner he leaped out into the air. H

broke through the alders amidst a rustle o

bending boughs and disappeared; but

moment later his head rose out of th

water close beside Vane, and the two men

went down-stream with Mabel betwee

hem.

Evelyn scrambled wildly along the ridge

and when she reached the foot of it Vane

was helping Mabel up the sloping bank o



gravel. The girl’s drenched garment

clung about her, her wet hair was streaked

across her face; but she seemed able t

stand, and she was speaking in jerkgasps. The hunt had swept on throug

shoaler water, but there was a cheer fro

he stragglers across the river. Evely

clutched her sister, half laughing, halsobbing, and incoherently upbraided her

Mabel shook herself free, and her firs

remark was characteristic.

“Oh!” she said, “don’t make a silly fuss.

Then she tried to shake out her drippin

skirt. “I’m only wet through, Wallace, take

me home.”

Vane picked her up, which was what she

seemed to expect, and the others followe







atter.

“Wallace was splendid in the water,” she

broke out, uttering part of her thoughtaloud.

“I thought rather more of him in the city,

Carroll replied. “That kind of thing wanew to him, and I’m inclined to believ

’d have let the folks he had to negotiat

with have the mine for a good deal les

han what he eventually got for it. But I’vsaid something about that before, and afte

all I’m not here to play Boswell.”

The girl was surprised at the apt allusiont was not what she would have expecte

from the man. Since she had not recovere

her composure, she forgot what Vane had



old her about him, and her comment wa

an incautious one. “How did you hear o

him?”

Carroll parried this with a smile.

“Oh!” he said, “you don’t suppose you ca

keep those old fellows to yourselves—hey’re international. But hadn’t we bette

be getting on? Let me help you through th

gap.”

They reached the Dene some time later

and Mabel, very much against her wishes

was sent to bed, while shortly afterward

Carroll came across Vane, who hadchanged his clothes, strolling up and dow

among the shrubberies.



“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Vane looked embarrassed. “For one thing

’m keeping out of Mrs. Chisholm’s wayshe’s inclined to be effusive. For another

’m trying to decide what I ought to do

We’ll have to pull out very shortly, and

had meant to have had an interview witEvelyn to-day. That’s why I fee

uncommonly annoyed with Mopsy fo

falling in.”

Carroll made a grimace. “If that’s how i

strikes you, any advice I could offe

would be wasted. A sensible man would

consider it a promising opportunity.”

“And trade upon it.”





CHAPTER XI—VANE WITHDRAWS

Dusk was drawing on when Vane strolled

along the terrace in front of the Dene.

He was preoccupied and eager, but fully

aware of the need for coolness, because i

was very possible that he might fail in th

ask he had in hand. By and by he saw

Evelyn, whom he had been waiting for

cross the opposite end of the terrace, anmoving forward he joined her at th

entrance to a shrubbery walk. A big

clipped yew with a recess in which a sea

had been placed stood close by.

“I’ve been sitting with Mopsy,” said

Evelyn. “She seems very little the wors

for her adventure—thanks to you.” Sh







saying this because one or two points tha

seem in my favour may have a contrar

effect.”

Evelyn made no answer, and he indicated

he seat. “Won’t you sit down, I have

something more to say.”

The girl did as he suggested, and his smil

faded. “Now,” he went on, “you won’t b

astonished if I ask if you will marry me?”

He stood looking down on her with a

mpressive steadiness of gaze. She coul

magine him facing the city men, fro

whom he had extorted the full value of himine, in the same fashion, and in a late

nstance, so surveying the eddies beneat

he osiers when he had gone to Mabel’



rescue. She felt that they had bette

understand one another.

“No,” she said; “if I must be candid, I anot astonished.” Then the colour crept int

her cheeks, is she met his gaze. “I suppos

t is an honour and it is undoubtedly a—

emptation.”

“A temptation?”

“Yes,” said Evelyn, mustering her courageo face a crisis she had dreaded. “It i

only due to you that you should hear th

ruth—though I think you suspect it. I hav

some liking for you.”

“That is what I wanted you to own,” Vane

broke in.



She checked him with a gesture. He

manner was cold, and yet there wa

something in it that stirred him more tha

her beauty.

“After all,” she answered, “It does not g

very far, and you must try to understand.

want to be quite honest, and what I have tsay is—difficult. In the first place, thing

are far from pleasant for me here; I wa

expected to make a good marriage, and

had my chance in London; I refused tprofit by it, and now I’m a failure.

wonder if you can realise what

emptation it is to get away.”

“Yes,” he said; “it makes me savage to

hink of it. I can, at least, take you out o

all this. If you hadn’t had a very fin



courage, you wouldn’t have told me.”

Evelyn smiled a curious wry smile.

“It has only prompted me to behave, a

most people would consider, shamelessly

but there are times when one must ge

above that point of view. Besides, there’a reason for my candour. Had you been

man of different stamp, it’s possible that

might have been driven into taking th

risk. We should both have suffered for aime, but through open variance we migh

have reached an understanding—not t

ntrude on one another. As it is, I could no

do you that injustice, and I should shrin

from marrying you with only a little col

iking.”



The man held himself firmly in hand. He

calmness had infected him, and he felt tha

his was not an occasion for romanti

protestations, even had he felt capable omaking them, which was not the case. As

matter of fact, such things were singularl

foreign to his nature.

“Even that would go a long way with me

f I could get nothing better,” he declared

“Besides, you might change. I coul

surround you with some comfort; I think could promise not to force my compan

upon you; I believe I could be kind.”

“Yes,” assented Evelyn; “I shouldn’t be

afraid of harshness from you; but it seem

mpossible that I should change. You mus

see that you started handicapped from th



beginning. Had I been free to choose, i

might have been different; but I have live

for some time in shame and fear, hating th

hought that some one would be forced ome.”

He said nothing, and she went on. “Must

ell you? You are the man.”

His face grew hard and for a moment h

set his lips tight. It would have been

relief to express his feelings concerninhis host just then.

“If you don’t hate me for it now, I’

willing to take the risk,” he said at length“It will be my fault if you hate me in th

future; I’ll try not to deserve it.”



He imagined she was yielding, but sh

roused herself with an effort.

“No,” she said. “Love on one side may ga long way, if it is strong enough—but i

must be strong to overcome the man

clashes of thought and will. Yours”—she

ooked at him steadily—“would not stanhe strain.”

Vane started. “You are the only woman

ever wished to marry.” He paused with forcible gesture. “What can I say t

convince you?”

She smiled softly. “I’m afraid it’mpossible. If you had wanted me greatly

you would have pressed the claim you ha

n saving Mopsy, and I would hav





enough. Behind her physical and menta

attributes, and half revealed by them, ther

was something deeper: the rea

personality of the girl. It was elusivemystic, with a spark of immateria

radiance which might brighten human lov

with its transcendent glow; but, as h

dimly realised, if he won her by force, imight recede and vanish altogether. H

could not, with strong ardour, compel it

clearer manifestation.

“I think I am as moved as it is possible fo

me to be,” he said.

Evelyn shook her head. “No; you wil

discover the difference some day, and the

you will thank me for leaving you you

iberty. Now I beg you to leave me min



and let me go.”

Vane stood silent a minute or two, for the

ast appeal had stirred him to chivalroupity. He was shrewd enough to realise tha

f he persisted he could force her to com

o him. Her father and mother were wit

him; she had nothing—no common-placusefulness or trained abilities—to fal

back upon if she defied them. But it wa

unthinkable that he should brutally compe

her.

“Well,” he said at length, “I must try to

face the situation; I want to assure you tha

t is not a pleasant one to me. But there’

another point. I’m afraid I’ve made thing

worse for you. Your people will probably

blame you for sending me away.”



Evelyn did not answer this, and he brok

nto a little grim smile. “Now,” he added

“I think I can save you any trouble on tha

score—though the course I’m going to taksn’t flattering, if you look at it in on

way. I want you to leave me to deal wit

your father.”

He took her consent for granted, an

eaning down laid a hand lightly on he

shoulder. “You will try to forgive me fo

he anxiety I have caused you. The tim’ve spent here has been very pleasant, bu

’m going back to Canada in a few days

Perhaps you’ll think of me withou

bitterness now and then.”

He turned away, and Evelyn sat still, glad

hat the strain was over, and thinkin



earnestly. The man was gentle and

considerate as well as forceful, and sh

iked him. Indeed, she admitted that sh

had not met any man she liked as muchbut that was not going very far. Then sh

began to wonder at her candour, and to

consider if it had been necessary. It wa

curious that this was the only man she haever taken into her confidence; and he

next suitor would probably be a much les

promising specimen. On the other hand, i

was consoling to remember that eligibl

suitors for the daughter of a

mpoverished gentleman were likely to b

scarce.

t had grown dark when she rose and

entering the house, went up to Mabel’

room. The girl looked at her sharply a



she came in.

“So you have got rid of him,” she said. “

hink you’re very silly.”

“How did you know?” Evelyn asked wit

a start.

“I heard him walking up and down th

errace, and I heard you go out. You can’

walk over raked gravel without making

noise. He went along to join you, and iwas a good while before you came back a

different times. I’ve been waiting for thi

he last day or two.”

Evelyn sat down with a strained smile

“Well,” she said, “I have sent him away.”

Mabel regarded her indignantly. “The



you’ll never get another chance like thi

one. If you had only taken him I coul

have worn decent frocks. Nobody coul

call the last one that.”

This was a favourite grievance an

Evelyn ignored it; but Mabel had more t

say. “I suppose,” she went on, “you don’know that Wallace has been getting

Gerald out of trouble?”

“Are you sure of that?” Evelyn askesharply.

“Yes,” said Mabel; “I’ll tell you what

know. Wallace saw Gerald in London—he told us that—and we all know tha

Gerald couldn’t pay his debts a littl

while since. You remember he came dow



o Kendal and went on and stayed the nex

night with the Claytons. It isn’t astonishin

hat he didn’t come here after the row

here was on the last occasion.”

“Go on,” said Evelyn. “What has his visi

o the Claytons to do with it?”

“Well,” said Mabel, “you don’t know tha

saw Gerald in the afternoon. After all

he’s the only brother I’ve got; and as Ji

was going to the station with the trap made him take me. The Claytons were i

he garden; we were scattered about, and

heard Frank and Gerald, who had strolle

off from the others, talking. Gerald wa

elling him about some things he’d bough

hey must have been expensive, becaus

Frank asked him where he got the money



Gerald laughed, and said he’d had a

unexpected stroke of luck that had set hi

straight again. Now, of course, Gerald go

no money from home, and if he’d won ihe would have told Frank how he did so

Gerald always would tell a thing lik

hat.”

Evelyn was filled with confusion and ho

ndignation. She had little doubt tha

Mabel’s surmise was correct.

“I wonder if he has told anybody, thoug

t’s scarcely likely,” she said.

“Of course he hasn’t. We all know whaGerald is. Wallace ought to get his money

back, now you have sent him away,

Mabel, who had waited a moment or two



went on. “But, of course, that’s mos

unlikely. It wouldn’t take Gerald long to

waste it.”

Evelyn rose, and, making some excuse

eft the room. A suspicion which had

roubled her more than Gerald’s conduc

had lately crept into her mind, and it nowhrust itself upon her attention—severa

hings pointed to the fact that her fathe

had taken a similar course to that whic

her brother had taken. She felt that had shheard Mabel’s information before th

nterview with Vane, she might have

yielded to him in an agony of humiliation

Mabel had summed up the situation wit

stinging candour and crudity—Vane, who

had been defrauded, was entitled t

recover the money he had parted with. Fo



a few moments Evelyn was furiousl

angry with him, and then, growing calmer

she recognised that this was unreasonable

She could not imagine any idea of compact originating with the man, and h

had quietly acquiesced in her decision.

Soon after she left her sister, Vane walkednto the room which Chisholm reserve

for his own use. Chisholm was sitting a

he table with some papers in front of hi

and a cigar in his hand, and Vane drew oua chair and lighted his pipe before h

addressed him.

“I’ve made up my mind to sail o

Saturday, instead of next week,” he said.

“You have decided rather suddenly



haven’t you?”

Vane knew that what his host wished to

nquire about was the cause of hidecision, and he meant to come to th

point. He was troubled by n

consideration for the man.

“The last news I had indicated that I wa

wanted,” he replied. “After all, there wa

only one reason why I have abuse

Mrs. Chisholm’s hospitality so long.”

“Well?” said Chisholm, with an

abruptness which hinted at anxiety.

“You will remember what I asked you

some time ago. I had better say that

abandon the idea.”



Chisholm started, and his florid face grew

redder while Vane, in place o

embarrassment, was conscious of

somewhat grim amusement. It seemestrange that a man of Chisholm’s stamp

should have any pride, but he evidentl

possessed it.

“What am I to understand by that?” h

asked with some asperity.

“I think what I said explained it. Bearinn mind your and Mrs. Chisholm’

nfluence, I’ve an idea that Evelyn migh

have yielded, if I’d strongly urged my sui

but that was not by any means what

wanted. I’d naturally prefer a wife wh

married me because she wished to do so

That’s why, after thinking the thing over



’ve decided to—withdraw.”

Chisholm straightened himself in his chair

n fiery indignation, which he made nattempt to conceal.

“You mean that after asking my consen

and seeing more of Evelyn, you havchanged your mind. Can’t you understan

hat it’s an unpardonable confession; on

which I never fancied a man born an

brought up in your station could havbrought himself to make.”

Vane looked at him with an impassive

face. “It strikes me as largely a question oerms—I mayn’t have used the right one

ow you know how the matter stands, yo

can describe it in any way that sound







hough it’s possible that I rather strained

he part. To come to the point, however

we pull out for the Dominion first thing to

morrow.”

Carroll asked no further questions. He di

not think it would serve any purpose, an

he contented himself with makinarrangements for their departure, whic

hey took early on the morrow. Vane had a

brief interview with Mabel, who she

some tears over him, and then by hecontrivance secured a word or two wit

Evelyn alone.

“Now,” he said, “it’s possible that you

may hear some hard things of me, and

count upon your not contradicting them

After all, I think you owe me that favour



There’s just another matter—as I won’t b

here to trouble you, try to think of m

eniently.”

He held her hand for a moment and the

urned away, and a few minutes later h

and Carroll left the Dene.



CHAPTER XII—VANE GROWS

RESTLESS.

Vane had been back in Vancouver a

fortnight when he sat one evening on th

verandah of Nairn’s house in compan

with his host and Carroll, lazily lookindown upon the inlet.

airn referred to one of the papers in hi

hand.

“Horsfield has been bringing up tha

smelter project again, and there’

something to be said in favour of hiviews,” he remarked. “We’re paying a

good deal for reduction.”

“We couldn’t keep a smelter going a



present,” Vane objected.

“There are two or three low-grad

mineral properties in the neighbourhooof the Clermont that have only had a littl

development work done on them,” Nair

pointed out. “They can’t pay freight o

heir raw product; but I’m thinking we’encourage their owners to open up th

mines, and get their business, if we had

smelter handy.”

“It wouldn’t amount to much,” Vane

replied. “Besides, there’s anothe

objection—we haven’t the dollars to pu

up a thoroughly efficient plant.”

“Horsfield’s ready to find part of the

and do the work.”



“I know he is,” said Vane. “He’

suspiciously eager. The arrangemen

would give him a pretty strong hold upo

he company; there are ways in which hcould squeeze us.”

“It’s possible. But, looking at it as

personal matter, there are inducements hcould offer ye. Horsfield’s a man who ha

he handling of other folks’ dollars, a

weel as a good many of his own. It migh

be wise to stand in with him.”

“So he hinted,” Vane answered shortly.

“Your argument was about the worst youcould have used, Mr. Nairn,” Carrol

broke in, laughing.



“Weel,” said Nairn, good-humouredly

“I’m no urging it. I would not see you

partner make enemies for the want of

warning.”

“He’d probably do so, in any case; it’s

gift of his,” said Carroll. “On the othe

hand, it’s fortunate he has a way of makinfriends: the two things sometimes g

ogether.”

Vane turned to Nairn with signs ompatience. “It might save trouble if I stat

hat while I’m a director of the Clermont

expect to be content with a fair profit o

my stock in the company.”

“He’s modest,” Carroll commented

“What he means is that he doesn’t propos



o augment that profit by taking advantag

of his position.”

“It’s a creditable idea, though I’m no surt’s as common as might be desired. Whil

have to thank ye for it, I would no

consider the explanation altogethe

necessary,” said Nairn, whose eyewinkled. Then he addressed Vane: “Now

we come to another point—the company’

a small one, the mine is doin

satisfactorily, and the moment’favourable for the floating of minera

properties. If we got an option on the half

developed claims near the Clermont an

went into the market, it’s likely that a

ssue of new stock would meet wit

nvestors’ favour.”



“I suppose so,” said Vane. “I’ll suppor

such a scheme, when I can see how a

ncreased capital could be used t

advantage and I am convinced about thneed for a smelter. At present, that’s no

he case.”

“I mentioned it as a duty—ye’ll hear morof it; for the rest, I’m inclined to agre

with ye,” Nairn replied.

A few minutes later he went into the houswith Carroll, and as they entered it h

glanced at his companion. “In the presen

nstance, Mr. Vane’s views are sound,” he

said. “But I see difficulties before him.”

“So do I. When he grapples with him i

will be by a frontal attack.”



“A bit of compromise is judicious now

and then.”

“In a general way it’s not likely to appeao my partner. When he can’t get through

by direct means, there’ll be somethin

wrecked. You had better understand wha

kind of man he is.”

“It’s no the first time I’ve bee

enlightened upon the point.”

Shortly after they had disappeared, Mis

Horsfield came out of another door, and

Vane rose when she approached him.

“Mrs. Nairn told me I would find you an

he others in the verandah,” she informe

him. “She said she would join yo



presently, and it was too fine to stay in.”

“I think she was right,” Vane replied. “A

you see, I’m alone. Nairn and Carrolhave just deserted me, but I can

complain. What pleases me most abou

his house is that you can do what you lik

n it, and—within limits—the same thinapplies to this city.”

Jessie laughed, and sank gracefully int

he chair he drew forward.

“Yes,” she said. “I think that would please

you. But how long have you been back?”

“A fortnight, since yesterday.”

There was a hint of reproach in the glanc

Jessie favoured him with. “Then I thin







said. “We don’t always want to be

flattered, and I’m in search of information

You told me you had been nine years in

his country, and life must be rathedifferent yonder. How did it strike you

after the absence?”

“It’s difficult to explain,” Vane repliedwith an air of amused reflection whic

hinted that he meant to get away from th

point. “On the whole, I think I’m mor

nterested in the question how I struchem. It’s curious that whereas some folk

nsist upon considering me English here

’ve a suspicion that they looked upon m

as a typical colonial there.”

“One wouldn’t like to think you resente

t.”



“How could I? This land sheltered m

when I was an outcast, and set me on m

feet.”

“Ah!” said Jessie, “you are the kind w

don’t mind taking in. The rest go back an

abuse us. But you haven’t given me ver

much information yet.”

“Then,” said Vane, “the best comparison

s supplied by my first remark—that i

his city you can do what you like. You’rerather fenced in yonder, which, if you’r

of a placid disposition, is, no doubt

comforting, because it shuts out unpleasan

hings. On the other hand, if you happen t

be restless and active, the fences ar

nconvenient, because you can’t alway

climb over, and it is not considered



proper to break them down. Still, havin

admitted that, I’m proud of the old land

t’s only the fences that irritate me.”

“Fences would naturally be obnoxious t

you. But we have some here.”

“They’re generally built loose, of splitrails, and not nailed. An energetic man ca

pull off a bar or two and stride over. I

t’s necessary, he can afterwards put them

up again, and there’s no harm done.”

“Would you do the latter?”

Vane’s expression changed. “No,” hesaid. “I think if there were anything goo

on the other side, I’d widen the gap so tha

he less agile and the needy could craw



hrough.” He smiled at her. “You see,

owe some of them a good deal. They wer

he only friends I had when I first tramped

aded and footsore, about the province.”

Jessie was pleased with his answer. Sh

had heard of the bush choppers’ free

hospitality, and she thought it was graceful thing that he should acknowledg

his debt to them.

“Now at last you’ll be content to rest while,” she suggested. “I dare say yo

deserve it.”

“It’s strange you should say that, becausust before you came out of the house

was thinking that I’d sat still long enough,

Vane answered with a laugh. “It’s a thing



hat gets monotonous. One must keep goin

on.”

“Then,” said Jessie, “take care you don’walk over a precipice some day when yo

have left all the fences behind. But I’v

kept you from your meditations, and I ha

better see if Mrs. Nairn is coming.”

She left him, and he was lighting a ciga

when he noticed a girl whose appearanc

seemed familiar in the road belowMoving along the verandah, he recognise

her as Kitty, and hastily crossed the law

owards her. She was accompanied by

young man whom Vane had once seen in

he city, but she greeted him with eviden

pleasure.



“Tom,” she said, when they had

exchanged a few words, “this i

Mr. Vane,” Then turning to Vane she

added: “Mr. Drayton.”

Vane, who liked the man’s face and

manner, shook hands with him, and the

ooked back at Kitty.

“What are you doing now, and how ar

ittle Elsie and her mother?” he inquired.

Kitty’s face clouded. “Mrs. Marvin’

dead. Elsie’s with some friends a

Spokane, and I think she’s well looked

after. I’ve given up the stage. Tom”—sheexplained shyly—“didn’t like it. Now I’

with some people at a ranch near th

Fraser on the Westminster road. There are



wo or three children and I’m fond o

hem.”

Drayton smiled. “She won’t be there long’ve wanted to meet you for some time

Mr. Vane. They told me at the office tha

you were away.”

“Ah!” said Vane, “I suppose my

congratulations won’t be out of place

Won’t you ask me to the wedding?”

Kitty blushed. “Will you come?”

“Try,” said Vane, and Drayton broke in:

“There’s nobody we would sooner see

’m heavily in your debt, Mr. Vane.”

“Oh, pshaw!” rejoined Vane. “Come and





Kitty.



CHAPTER XIII—A NEW PROJECT.

Vane was sitting alone in the room se

apart for the Clermont Company i

airn’s office, when Drayton was show

n. He took the chair Vane pointed to and

ighted a cigar the latter gave him.

“Now,” he began with some diffidence

“you cut me off short when I met you th

other day, and one of my reasons focoming over was to get through with wha

was saying then. It’s just this—I owe yo

a good deal for taking care of Kitty; she’

very grateful, and thinks no end of you, want to say I’ll always feel you have

claim on me.”

Vane smiled at him. It was evident tha



Kitty had taken her lover into he

confidence with regard to her trip o

board the sloop, and, that she had done s

said a good deal for her.

“It didn’t cost me any trouble,” Vane

replied. “We were coming down to

Vancouver, anyway.”

Drayton’s embarrassment became mor

obvious. “It cost you some dollars; ther

were the tickets. Now I feel I have to—-”

Vane stopped him. “When you are married

o Miss Blake you can pay me back, if i

will be a relief to you. When’s thwedding to be?”

“In a couple of months,” said Drayton





routine work in the lumber trade of thi

province and its subsidiary branches.

figured any knowledge I could pick u

might stand me in some dollars some daySo far”—he smiled ruefully—“it hasn

done so.”

“Go on,” said Vane, whose curiosity waaroused.

“Well, I think that pulping spruce—pape

spruce—is likely to be scarce soon. Thsupply’s not unlimited and the world’

consumption is going up by jumps.”

“There’s a good deal of timber you couldmake pulp of in British Columbia alone,

Vane interposed.





spruce—a valley full of it—with wate

power and easy access to the sea, ther

ought to be dollars in the thing?”

“Yes,” said Vane, with growing interest

“That is very probable.”

“I could put you on the track of such valley,” Drayton replied.

“We had better understand each other. Do

you want to sell me the information, anhave you offered it to anyone else?”

His companion answered with the candou

he had expected. “The one or two folk’ve spoken to don’t seem anxious t

consider it. It’s mighty hard for a smal

man to launch a project.”



“As a rule, it is.”

“Then,” Drayton continued, “the idea’s no

my own. It was a mineral prospector—relative of mine—who struck the valle

on his last trip. He’s an old man, and h

came down played out and sick. Now

guess he’s slowly dying.” He paused moment. “Would you like to see him?”

“I’ll go with you now, if it’s convenient,”

Vane replied.

They crossed the city to where a row o

squalid frame shacks stood on it

outskirts. In one which they entered, gaunt man, with grizzled hair lay upon

rickety bed. A glance showed Vane tha

he man was very frail. Drayton, wh



explained the cause of his visit, motione

Vane to sit down, and the prospector fixed

his eyes upon the latter.

“I’ve heard of you. You’re the man who

ocated the Clermont—and put the projec

hrough,” he said. “You had the luck. I’ve

been among the ranges half my life, anyou can see how much I’ve made of it

When I struck a claim worth anything

somebody else got the money.”

Vane had reasons for believing that thi

was not an uncommon experience; but th

man went on again: “Well, you look

straight, and I’ve got to take som

chances; it’s my last stake. We’ll ge

down to business; I’ll tell you about tha

spruce.”



He spoke for a few minutes, and the

asked abruptly: “What are you going t

offer?”

Vane had not been certain that he would

make any offer at all; but, as had befalle

him before, the swift decision flashe

nstinctively into his mind.

“If I find that the timber and its locatio

come up to your account of it, I’ll pay yo

so many dollars down—whatever we caagree upon—when I get my lease from th

and office,” he said. “Then I’ll mak

another equal payment the day we start th

mill. But I don’t bind myself to record th

imber or put up a mill, unless I’

convinced it’s worth while.”





at nights and looks after him.”

Vane glanced round the room. It wa

evident that Celia’s earnings were smallbut he noticed several things whic

suggested that she had lavished lovin

care upon the sick man, probably at th

cost of severe self-denial.

“Yes,” he answered; “I’ll promise that

But, as I pointed out, while we hav

agreed upon the two payments, I reservhe right of deciding what share you

daughter and Drayton are to tak

afterwards within the limits sketched out.

can’t fix it definitely until I’ve seen th

imber—you’ll have to trust me.”

The prospector once more looked at hi



steadily, and then implied by a gesture tha

he was satisfied.

The man fumbled under his pillow, andproduced a piece cut out from a map of th

province, with rough pencil notes on th

back of it.

“It was on my last prospecting trip I foun

he spruce,” he said. “I’d been lookin

round for the Company I was with, and

figured I’d strike the coast over the rangeThe creeks were full of snow-water, and

as I was held up here and there before

could get across, provisions began to ru

short. By and by I fell sick; but I had to ge

out of the mountains, and I was pushing o

for the Strait when I struck the plac

where the spruce is. After that, I got kind



of muddled in the head, but I went down

ong valley on an easy grade and struc

some Siwash curing the last of the salmon

The trouble is, I was too sick to figurexactly where the small inlet they wer

camped by lies. They took me back wit

hem to their rancherie—you could fin

hat—and sailed me across to Comox band by. I came down on a steamboat, and

he doctor told me I’d made my las

ourney.”

Vane expressed his sympathy. The

narrative has been crudely matter-of-fact

but he had been out on the prospectin

rail often enough to fill in the details th

sick man omitted.

“How far was the valley from the inlet?



he asked.

“I can’t tell you. I think I was four days o

he trail, but it might have been more. was too sick to remember. Anyway, there

was a creek you could run the logs down.

Vane nodded. “Well,” he said, “how farwas the inlet from the rancherie?”

“I was in the canoe part of one night an

some of the next day. Guess thirty milewouldn’t be far out.”

“That’s something to go upon.”

Vane rose. “If Drayton will come along

with me, I’ll send him back with

hundred dollars. It’s part of the firs

payment—but your getting it now shoul



make things a little easier for Celia.”

“But you haven’t located the spruce yet.”

“I’m going to locate it, if the thing’

anyway possible.” Vane shook hands with

he man. “I expect to get off up the Strai

very shortly.”

The prospector looked at him with relie

and gratitude in his eyes, “You’re white—

and I guess you’d be mighty hard to beat.”

Vane touched Drayton’s arm, and when

hey reached the street, his companio

glanced at him with open admiration.

“I’m glad I brought you across,” he brok

out. “You have a way of getting hold o

folks, making them believe in you. Hartle



hasn’t a word in writing, but he knows yo

mean to act square with him. Kitty felt th

same thing—it was why she came down i

he sloop with you.”

Vane smiled, though there was a trace o

embarrassment in his manner. “Now you

mention it, you were equally confidingWe have only arrived at a rather indefinite

understanding about your share yet.”

“We’ll leave it at that,” said the other. “haven’t struck anybody else in this cit

who would hear about the thing. Anyway

’d prefer a few shares in the concern, a

mentioned, instead of money. If you get th

hing on foot, I guess it will go.”

During the rest of the day Vane was busy



on board the sloop, but in the evening h

walked over to Horsfield’s house wit

Mrs. Nairn, and found Jessie and he

brother at home. Horsfield presently toohim to his smoking-room.

“About that smelter,” he said. “Haven’

you make your mind up yet?”

“Isn’t it a matter for the board?” Vane

asked suggestively. “There are severa

directors.”

Horsfield laughed. “We’ll face the fact

hey’ll do what you decide upon.”

Vane did not reply to this. “Well,” he

said, “at present we couldn’t keep

smelter big enough to be economica



going, and I’m doubtful if we would ge

much ore from the other properties yo

were talking to Nairn about.”

“Did he say it was my idea?”

“He didn’t: I’d reasons for assuming it

Those properties, however, are of noaccount.”

Horsfield waited expectantly, and Vane

went on: “If it seems possible that we caprofitably increase our output later b

means of further capital, we’ll put up

smelter. But in that case it might b

economical to do the work ourselves.”

“Who would superintend it?”

“I would, if necessary.”



Horsfield smiled in a significant manner

“Aren’t you inclined to take hold of to

much? When you have plenty in you

hands, it’s good policy to leave a little fosomebody else. Sometimes the perso

who benefits is willing to reciprocate.”

The hint was plain, and Nairn had saisufficient on another occasion to make i

clearer; but Vane did not respond.

“If we gave the work out, it would be aopen tender,” he said. “There would be no

reason why you shouldn’t make a bid.”

Horsfield found it difficult to conceal hidisgust. He had no desire to bid on a

open tender, which would prevent hi

obtaining anything beyond the marke



price.

“The question must stand over until I com

back,” Vane resumed. “I’m going up thewest coast shortly and may be away som

ittle time.”

They left the smoking-room sooafterwards, and when they strolled back t

he other, Vane sat down near Jessie.

“I hear you are going away,” she began.

“Yes,” said Vane; “I’m going to look for

pulping timber.”

“But why do you want pulping timber?”

“It can sometimes be converted int

dollars.”



“Isn’t there every prospect of you

obtaining a good many already? Are you

never satisfied?”

“I suppose I’m open to take as many as

can get,” Vane answered with an air o

humorous consideration. “The reaso

probably is that I’ve had very few untiately. Still, I don’t think it’s altogether the

dollars that are driving me.”

“If it’s the restlessness you once spoke ofyou ought to put a check on it and try to b

content. There’s danger in the longing to

be always going on.”

“It’s a common idea that a small hazard

gives a thing an interest.”



Jessie shot a swift glance at him, and sh

had, as he noticed, expressive eyes.

“Be careful!” she said. “After all, it’wiser to keep within safe limits, and no

climb over too many fences.” Sh

hesitated, and her voice grew softer. “You

have friends who would be sorry if yogot hurt.”

The man was a little stirred; she wa

alluring physically, while something in hevoice had its effect on him. Evelyn

however, still occupied his thoughts, and

he smiled at his companion.

“Thank you,” he said. “I like to believ

t.”



CHAPTER XIV—VANE SAILS

NORTH.

t was growing dusk on the evening o

Vane’s departure when he walked out o

airn’s room. His host was with him, and

when they entered an adjacent roomwhere a lamp was burning, the olde

man’s face relaxed into a smile as he saw

Jessie Horsfield talking to his wife. Vane

stopped a few minutes to speak to themand it was Jessie who gave the signal fo

he group to break up.

“I must go,” she said to Mrs. Nairn. “I’valready stayed longer than I intended. I’l

et you have those patterns back in a da

or two.”



“Mair patterns!” Nairn exclaimed wit

dry amusement. “It’s the second lot thi

week; ye’re surely industrious, Jessie

Women”—he addressed Vane—“havecurious notions of economy. They wil

spend a month knitting a thing to give t

somebody who does not want it, whe

hey could buy it for half a dollar donbetter by machinery. I’m no saying

however, that it does not keep them out o

mischief.”

Jessie laughed. “I don’t think many of u

are industrious in that, way now. After all

sn’t it a pity that so many of the beautifu

old handicrafts are dying out? No loom

for instance, could turn out some of th

hings your wife makes. They’r

matchless.”



“She has an aumrie—ye can translate i

runk—full of them,” said Nairn. “It’s no

onger customary to scatter them ower th

house.”

Mrs. Nairn’s smile was half a sigh

“There were no books, and no mon

amusements, when I was young,” she saio Jessie. “We sat through the long winte

forenights, counting stitches, at Burnfoot

under the Scottish moors. That, my dear

was thirty years ago.”

She shook hands with Vane, who left the

house with Jessie, and watched them cros

he lawn.

“I’m thinking ye’ll no see so much o

Jessie for the next few weeks,” Nairn



who had accompanied her to the door

remarked. “Has she shown ye any of yo

knick-knacks when she finished them.”

His wife shook her head at hi

reproachfully. “Alec,” she said, “ye’r

now and then hasty in jumping a

conclusions.”

“Maybe,” replied Nairn. “I’m n

nfallible, but the fault ye mention is n

common in the land where we were born’m no denying that Jessie has enterprise

but how far it will carry her in this case i

mair than I can tell.”

He smiled as he recalled a scene at th

station some time ago, and Mrs. Nair

ooked up at him.



“What is amusing ye, Alec?” she asked.

“It was just a bit idea no worth th

mentioning,” said Nairn. “I think iwouldna count.” He paused, and resume

with an air of reflection: “A young man’

heart is whiles inconstant an

susceptible.”

Mrs. Nairn, who ignored the last remark

went into the house, and in the meanwhil

Jessie and Vane walked down the roaduntil they stopped at a gate, Jessie held ou

her hand.

“I’m glad I met you to-night,” she said“You will allow me to wish you every

success?”



“Thank you,” he replied. “It’s nice to fee

one has the sympathy of one’s friends.”

He turned away, and Jessie stoodwatching him as he strode down the road

There was, she thought, something that se

him apart from other men in his fine pois

and swing. She was, however, forced toconfess that, although he had answered he

courteously, there had been no warmth i

his words.

As it happened, Vane was just then

conscious of a slight relief. He admire

Jessie, and he liked Nairn and his wife

but they belonged to the city, which h

was on the whole glad to leave behind. H

was going back to the shadowy woods

where men lived naturally, and the lust o



fresh adventure was strong in him.

On reaching the wharf he found Kitty an

Celia Hartley, whom he had not mehitherto, awaiting him with Carroll an

Drayton. A boat lay at the steps, and he

and Carroll rowed the others off to th

sloop. The moon was just rising frobehind the black firs at the inlet’s inne

end, and a little cold wind faintly scente

with resinous fragrance, that blew dow

across them, stirred the water into tinripples that flashed into silvery radianc

here and there.

A soft glow shone out from the skylights t

welcome them as they approached th

sloop, and when, laughing gaily, the

clambered on board, Carroll led the wa



o the tiny saloon, which just held the

all. It was brightly lighted by tw

nickelled lamps; flowers were fastene

against the panelling, and clusters of thestood upon the table, which was covere

with a spotless cloth. Vane took the head

of it and Carroll modestly explained tha

only part of the supper had been prepareby him. The rest he had obtained in th

city, out of regard for the guests, who, h

added, had not lived in the bush.

Carroll started the general chatter, whic

went on after the meal was over, and

nobody appeared to notice that Kitty sa

with her hand in Drayton’s amidst th

happy laughter. Even Celia, who had he

grief to grapple with, smiled bravely

Vane had given them champagne, the bes



n the city, though they drank sparingly

and at last, when Celia made a move t

rise, Drayton stood up with his glass in hi

hand.

“We must go, but there’s something to be

done,” he said. “It’s to thank our host and

wish him success. It’s a little boat he’sailing in, but she’s carrying a big freigh

f our good wishes count for anything.”

They emptied the glasses, and Vanereplied: “My success is yours. You have

all a stake in the venture, and that piles up

my responsibility. If the spruce is still i

existence, I’ve got to find it.”

“And you’re going to find it,” sai

Drayton confidently.



Then Vane divided the flowers between

Celia and her companion, but when the

went up on deck Kitty raised one bunc

and kissed it.

“Tom won’t mind,” she said. “Take tha

one back from Celia and me.”

They got down into the boat. Then, whil

he girls called back to Vane, Drayton

rowed away, and the boat was fading ou

of sight when Kitty’s voice reached thmen on board. She was singing a well

known Jacobite ballad.

“Considering what his Highland followersuffered on his account and what th

women thought of him,” said Carrol

“some of the virtues they credited th



Young Chevalier with must have been

real,” He raised his hand. “You may a

well listen.”

Vane stood still a moment with the blood

hot in his face, and the refrain rang mor

clearly across the sparkling water:

“Better lo’ed ye cannot be,

Will ye no come back again?”

“I don’t know if you feel flattered, but I’van idea that Kitty and Celia would go int

he fire for you, and Drayton seems t

share their confidence,” Carroll resumed

n his most matter-of-fact tone.

Vane began to shake the mainsail loose. “

believe we both talked rather freely to



night; but we have to find the spruce.”

“So you have said already,” Carrol

pointed out. “Hadn’t you better heave thboom up with the topping lift?”

They got the mainsail on to her, broke ou

he anchor and set the jib; and as the boaslipped away before a freshening breez

Vane sat at the helm, while Carroll stood

on the foredeck, coiling up the gear. Th

moon was higher now; the broad saigleamed a silvery grey; the ripples, whic

were getting bigger, flashed and sparkled

as they streamed back from the bows, an

he lights of the city dropped fast astern

Vane was conscious of a keen

exhilaration. He had started on a new

adventure; he was going back to the bush



and he knew that no matter how his lif

might change, the wilderness woul

always call to him. In spite of this

however, he was, as he had saidconscious of an unusual responsibility

Hitherto he had fought for what he coul

get for himself; but now Kitty’s futur

partly depended upon his efforts, and hisuccess would be of vast importance t

Celia.

He had a very friendly feeling towardboth the girls. Indeed, all the women h

had met of late had attracted him i

different ways, but Evelyn stood apar

from all.

She appealed less to his senses an

ntellect than she did to a sublimate



something in the depths of his nature; an

t somehow seemed fitting that her imag

should materialise before his menta

vision as the sloop drove along under thcloudless night sky, while the moonligh

poured down glamour on the shinin

water. Evelyn harmonised with suc

hings as these.

t was true that she had repulsed him; bu

hat, he remembered, once more with

sense of compunction, was what hdeserved for entering into an allianc

against her with her venial father. He wa

glad now that he had acquiesced in he

dismissal of him, since to have stood fir

and broken her to his will would hav

brought disaster upon both of them. He fe

hat she had not wholly escaped him, afte



all: by and by he would go back and see

her favour by different means. Then sh

might, perhaps, forgive him and listen.



CHAPTER XV—THE FIRST

MISADVENTURE.

The breeze freshened fiercely with the re

and fiery dawn, and Vane, who had gone

below, was advised of it by being flun

off the locker on which he sat with coffeand biscuits before him, in the saloon. Th

ug, overturning, spilled its contents upo

his person, the biscuits were scattered, bu

he picked himself up in haste anscrambled out into the well. He found th

sloop slanted over with a good deal of he

ee deck submerged in rushing foam, an

Carroll bracing himself against the straiupon the tiller.

“I’ll let her come up when you’re ready,

Carroll remarked. “We had better ge



some sail off her, if we mean to hold on to

he mast.”

He put down his helm, and the sloopforging round to windward, rose uprigh

with her heavy mainboom banging to an

fro. After that, they were desperately bus

for the next few minutes, and Vane wishedhey had engaged a hand in Vancouver

nstead of waiting to hire a Siwas

somewhere up the coast. There was

headsail to haul to windward, which wadifficult, and the mainsheet to get in; an

hen the two men, standing on the slipper

nclined deck, struggled hard to haul th

canvas down to the boom. The jerkin

spar smote them in the ribs; once or twic

he reefing tackle beneath it was torn fro

heir hands; but they mastered the sai



ying two reefs in it, to reduce its size, an

he craft afterwards drove away with he

ee rail just awash.

“You had better go down and get some

biscuits,” Vane said to his comrade. “You

mayn’t have an opportunity later.”

“It looks like that,” Carroll agreed. “Th

wind’s backing northwards, and tha

means more of it before long. You can cal

f you want me.”

He disappeared below, and Vane sat a

he helm with a frown on his face. H

knew that the breeze would increase andraw ahead, which was unfortunate

because they would have to beat, fightin

for every fathom they slowly made. Ther



was no help for it, and he buttoned hi

acket against the spray, while by the tim

Carroll came up the sloop was plungin

sharply; pitching showers of stinging brinall over her when the bows went down

They drove her at it stubbornly most of th

day, making but little to windward, whil

he seas got bigger and whiter, until thehad some trouble to keep the light boa

hey carried upon the deluged deck. A

ast, when she came bodily aft amidst

frothing cascade which poured into th

well, Vane brought the sloop round, and

hey stretched away to the eastwards, unti

hey could let go the anchor in smootwater beneath a wall of rock. They wer

very wet, and stiff with cold, for winte

was drawing near.



“We’ll get supper,” said Vane. “If the

breeze drops at dusk, we’ll go on again.”

Having eaten little since dawn, theenjoyed the meal, and Carroll would hav

been content to remain at ancho

afterwards. The tiny saloon wa

comfortably warm, and it would bpleasanter to lounge away the evening o

a locker with his pipe, instead of sittin

amidst the bitter spray at the helm. Bu

Vane was proof against his companion’hints.

“With a head wind, we’ll be some tim

working up to the rancherie, and then w

have thirty miles of coast to search for th

nlet Hartley reached,” he said. “Afte

hat, there’s the valley to locate; he wa



uncertain how far it lay from the beach.”

“It couldn’t be very far. You wouldn’

expect a man who was sick to make angreat pace.”

“I can imagine a man who knew he mus

reach the coast before he started making pretty vigorous effort. Do you remembe

he time we crossed the divide in th

snow?”

“I could remember it, if I wanted,” sai

Carroll with a shiver. “It’s about the las

hing I’m anxious to do.”

“The trouble is that there are many valley

n this strip of country, and we may hav

o try a number before we strike the righ



one,” Vane went on. “I can’t spend very

much time over this search. As soon as th

man we put in charge of the mine has trie

his present system long enough to give usomething to figure on, I want to see wha

can be done to increase our output. We

haven’t marketed very much refined meta

yet.”

“There’s no doubt it would be advisable,

Carroll, who looked after their finances

answered. “As I’ve pointed out, you havspent a good deal of the cash you got whe

you turned the Clermont over to th

company. In fact, that’s one reason why

didn’t try to head you off this timber

hunting scheme. You can’t spend many

dollars over it, and if the spruce comes up

o expectations, you ought to get the



back. It would be a fortunate change, afte

your extravagance in England.”

“That is a subject I don’t want to talabout. We’ll go up and see what the

weather’s like.”

Carroll shivered when they stood in thwell. A nipping wind came down acros

he darkening firs ashore, but there was n

doubt that it had fallen somewhat, and h

resigned himself when Vane began to pulhe tiers off the mainsail.

n a few minutes they were under way, th

sloop heading out towards open watewith two reefs down in her mainsail;

great and ghostly shape of slanted canva

hat swept across the dim, furrowed plai



of sea. By midnight the breeze was a

strong as ever, but they had clea

moonlight and they held on; the craf

plunging with flooded decks through thwhite combers, while Carroll sat at th

helm, battered by spray and stung wit

cold.

When Vane came up an hour or two later

he sea was breaking viciously. They held

on and, soon after day broke with its firs

red flush ominously high in the eastersky, stretched in towards the land, with

somewhat sheltered bay opening u

beyond a foam-fringed point ahead o

hem. Carroll glanced dubiously at th

white turmoil, in the midst of which blac

fangs of rock appeared, before he turne

o his companion.



“Will she weather the point on this tack?

he asked.

“She’ll have to,” said Vane, who wasteering.

They stood on, though it occurred t

Carroll that they were not opening up thbay very rapidly. The light was growing

and he could now discern the orderl

phalanxes of white-topped combers tha

crumpled into chaotic spouting on thpoint’s outer end. The sloop would no

ast long if she touched bottom there; bu

once more, after a glance at hi

companion’s face, he kept silent. After all

Vane was leader, and when he looked a

he did then he usually resented advice

The mouth of the bay grew wider, unti



Carroll could see most of the forest-gir

shore on one side of it; but the surf upo

he point was also growing unpleasantl

near. Wisps of spray whirled away from iand vanished among the scrubby fir

clinging to the fissured crags behind. Th

sloop, however, was going to windward

for Vane was handling her with skill, andshe had almost cleared the point whe

here was a bang, and the sloop stoppe

suddenly. The comber to windward tha

should have lifted her up broke all ove

her; flinging the boat on deck upon th

saloon skylight, and pouring inches deep

over the coaming into the well. Vane wahurled from the tiller and cut his forehead

for his wet face was smeared with blood

but he had seized a big oar to shove he

off when she swung upright, moved, an



struck again. The following sea hove he

up; there was another less violent crash

and while Vane dropped the oar and

grasped the helm she suddenly shot ahead

“She’ll go clear,” he shouted, “Jump

below and see if she’s damaged.”

Carroll got no farther than the scuttle, fo

he saloon floorings on the depressed sid

were already awash and he could hear a

ominous splashing and gurgling.

“It’s pouring into her,” he reported.

Vane nodded. “You’ll have to pump.”

“We passed an opening some miles to lee

Wouldn’t it be better if you ran back

here?” Carroll suggested.



“No,” said Vane; “I won’t run a yard

There’s another inlet not far ahead, and

we’ll stand on until we reach it. I’d pu

her on the beach here, only that she’d go tpieces with the first shift of wind to th

westward.”

Carroll agreed with this opinion; but thers a great difference between running t

eeward with the sea behind the vesse

and thrashing to windward when it i

ahead, and he hesitated.

“Get the pump started. We’re going on,”

Vane said shortly.

The pump was, fortunately, a powerfu

one, and they had nearly two miles o

smoother water before they stretched ou



of the bay upon the other track; but whe

hey did so Carroll, who glanced dow

again through the scuttle, could not flatte

himself that he had reduced the water.

After half an hour of it, he was breathles

and exhausted, and Vane took his place

The sea was higher, the sloop wetter thashe had been, and there was no doubt tha

he water was rising fast inside her

Carroll wondered how far ahead the inle

his companion had mentioned lay, and thnext two hours were anxious ones to bot

of them. Turn about, they pumped wit

savage determination and went back

gasping, to the helm, to thrash the boat on

They drove her remorselessly; and sh

went through the combers, swept an

streaming, while the spray scourged th



helmsman’s face as he gazed to weather

Their arms and shoulders ached fro

working in a cramped position, but sinc

here was no help for it, they toiledoggedly, until at last the crest of a cra

hey were heading for sloped away i

front of them.

A few minutes later, they drove past the

end of it into a broad lane of water wit

ong ranks of firs dropping steeply to it

edge. The wind was suddenly cut off; thcombers fell away, and the sloop crep

slowly up the inlet, which wound, gree

and placid, among the hills. Vane strode t

he scuttle and looked down at the floo

which splashed languidly to and fr

below.



“It’s fortunate that we’re in. Another half

hour would have seen the end of her,” h

said. “Let her come up a little. There’s

smooth beach to yonder cove.”

She slid in quietly, scarcely rippling th

smooth surface of the tiny basin, abou

which there rose great black firs, anCarroll laid her on the beach.

“Now,” said Vane, “drop the boom on the

shore side, to keep her from canting overand then we’ll get breakfast. We’ll see

where she’s damaged when the tide ebbs.

Since most of their stores had lain in thflooded lockers, from which there ha

been no time to extricate them, the mea

was not an appetising one. They were



however, glad of it, and, rowing ashor

afterwards, they lay on the shingle in th

sunshine while the sloop was festoone

with their drying clothes.

“If she has only split a plank or two w

can patch her up,” Vane remarked, “There

are all the tools we’ll want in the locker.”

“Where will you get new planks from?

Carroll inquired. “I don’t think we hav

any spikes that would go through thframes.”

“That,” said Vane, “is the trouble. I expec

’ll have to make a trip across to Comofor them in a sea canoe. We’re sure to

come across a few Siwash somewhere i

he neighbourhood. I can’t say that thi



expedition is beginning fortunately.”

“There’s no doubt on that point,” Carrol

agreed.

“Well,” said Vane, “she has to be patched

up, and until I find that spruce I’m goin

on.”

Carroll made no comment. It was no

worthwhile to object when Vane wa

obviously determined.



CHAPTER XVI—THE BUSH.

t was a quiet evening, nearly a fortnigh

after the arrival of the sloop, and pal

sunshine streamed into the cove. Littl

glittering ripples lapped lazily along th

shingle, and the placid surface of the inle

was streaked with faint blue lines wher

wandering airs came down from th

heights above. Now and then an elfi

sighing fell from the ragged summits of thall black firs, but it died away again, an

afterwards the silence was only broken b

he pounding of a heavy hammer and th

crackle of a fire.

Carroll sat beside the latter, alternatel

holding a stout plank up to the blaze an

dabbing its hot surface with a drippin



mop. A big sea canoe lay drawn up nea

he spot, and one of its copper-skinne

Siwash owners sat amongst the shingle

stolidly watching the white men. Hicomrade was inside the sloop, holding

big stone against one of her frames, whil

Vane crouched outside her, swinging a

hammer.

Vane, who was stripped to shirt and

rousers, had arrived from Comox acros

he Strait at dawn that morning in the secanoe. It was a long trip and they had ha

wild weather on the outward journey, bu

he had set to work with characteristi

energy as soon as he landed. Now, thoug

he sun was low, he was working rathe

harder than ever, with the flood tide

which would shortly compel him to desist



creeping up to his feet.

Carroll, who watched him with quie

amusement, was on the whole content thahe tide was rising, because his comrad

had firmly declined to stop for dinner, and

he was conscious of a sharpened appetite

t was comforting to reflect that Vanewould be unable to get the plank int

place before the evening meal, because i

here had been any prospect of his doin

so, he would certainly have postponed thatter.

By and by he stopped a moment and turne

o Carroll. “If you were any use in a

emergency, you’d be holding up for m

nstead of that wooden image inside,” h

remarked. “He will back the stone agains



any frame except the one I’m nailing.”

“The difficulty is that I can’t be in tw

places at the same time,” Carroll pointeout. “Shall I leave this plank? You can’

get it in to-night.”

“I’m going to try,” Vane answered grimly

He turned round to direct the Siwash an

hen cautiously hammered in one of th

wedges a little farther, after whichswinging back the hammer, he struck

heavy blow. The result was disastrous, fo

here was a crash and one of the shore

shot backwards, striking him on the kneeHe jumped with a savage cry, and nex

moment there was a sharp snapping, an

he end of the plank sprang out. The



another shore gave way, and when th

plank fell clattering at his feet he whirle

he hammer round his head, and hurled i

violently into the bush. This appeared tafford him some satisfaction, and h

strode up the beach, with the bloo

dripping from the knuckles of one hand.

“That’s the blamed Siwash’s fault,” he

said. “I couldn’t get him to back up when

put the last spike in.”

“Hadn’t you better tell him to come out?

Carroll suggested.

“No,” said Vane. “If he hasn’t senseenough to see that he isn’t wanted, he ca

stay where he is all night. Are you goin

o get supper, or must I do that, too?”



Carroll set about preparing the mea

which the two Siwash partook of an

afterwards departed, with some pape

currency. Then Vane, walking down thebeach, came back with the plank, and afte

ighting his pipe, pointed to one or tw

broken nails in it.

“That’s the cause of the trouble,” he said

“It cost me a week’s journey to get th

package of galvanised spikes—I coul

have managed to split a plank or two ouof one of these firs. The storekeepe

fellow assured me they were speciall

annealed for heading up. If I knew who th

manufacturers were, I’d have pleasure i

elling them what I think of them. If the

set up to make spikes, they ought to mak

hem, and empty every keg that won’





replied. “Skill of the kind you mentione

s worth about three dollars a day.”

“You were getting two dollars foshovelling in a mining ditch, when I firs

met you.”

“I was,” Carroll assented goodhumouredly; “I believe another month o

wo of it would have worn me out. It’

considerably pleasanter and mor

profitable to act as your understudy; but fairly proficient carpenter might hav

bungled the latter.”

Vane looked embarrassed. “Let it pass’ve a pernicious habit of expressin

myself unfortunately. Anyhow, we’ll star

again on those planks first thing to





mine.”

“In that case it might be as well to stay i

Vancouver as much as possible and keepyour eye on him.”

“The same idea has struck me since w

sailed,” Vane said. “The trouble is thauntil I’ve decided about the pulp mill he’l

have to go unwatched, for the same reaso

hat prevented you from holding up for m

and steaming the plank.”

“If any unforeseen action of Horsfield’

made it necessary, you could let this pulp

project drop.”

“No,” said Vane, “You ought to

understand why that’s impossible



Drayton, Kitty and Hartley count upon m

exertions. They’re poor folks and I can’

go back on them. If we can’t locate th

spruce or it doesn’t seem likely to pay foworking up, there’s nothing to prevent m

abandoning the undertaking; but I’m not a

iberty to do so just because it would be

convenience to myself. Hartley got mpromise before he told me where t

search.”

He strolled away to the tent they hapitched on the edge of the bush, bu

Carroll sat a while smoking beside th

fire. He was suspicious of Horsfield, an

foresaw trouble, more particularly now

his comrade had undertaken a projec

which seemed likely to occupy a goo

deal of his attention. Hitherto, Vane had



owed part of his success to his faculty o

concentrating all his powers upon on

object.

They rose at dawn next morning, and b

sunset had fitted the new planks. Two

days later, they sailed to the northwards

and eventually found the rancherie Hartlehad mentioned, where they had expecte

o hire a guide. The rickety woode

building, however, was empty, and Vane

pushed on again. He had now to face aunseen difficulty because there were

number of openings in that strip of coast

and Hartley’s description was of no grea

service in deciding which was the righ

one.

During the next day or two, they looke



nto several bights, and seeing no valley

opening out of them, went on again, unti

one evening they ran into an inlet with

forest-shrouded hollow at the head of itHere they moored the sloop close in wit

a sheltered beach, and after a night’s res

got ready their packs for the march inland

They had a light tent without poles, whic

could be cut when wanted; two blankets

an axe, and one or two cooking utensils

besides their provisions.

n front of them a deep trough opened up

n the hills, but it was filled with gian

forest, through which no track led, an

only those who have traversed the di

recesses of the primeval bush can full

understand what this implies. The wes





After the first few minutes, there was n

sign of the gleaming water. They had

entered a region of dim green shade

where the moist air was heavy witresinous smells. The trunks rose abou

hem in tremendous columns; thorn

clutched their garments, and twigs an

brittle branches snapped beneath theifeet. The day was cool, but the sweat o

ense effort dripped from them, and whe

hey stopped for breath at the end of a

hour, Vane estimated that they had gone a

mile.

“I’ll be content if we can keep this up,” h

said.

“It isn’t likely,” Carroll, who glanced

down at a big rent in his jacket, replie



with a trace of dryness.

A little farther on, they waded wit

difficulty through a large stream, anCarroll, who stopped, glanced round at

deep rift in a crag on one side of them.

“I don’t know if that could be considerea valley, but we may as well look at it,

he suggested.

They scrambled towards it, and reachingravelly soil, where the trees wer

hinner, Vane surveyed the opening. It wa

very narrow, and appeared to lose itsel

among the rocks. The size of the creewhich flowed out of it was no guide

because those ranges are scored b

running water.



“We won’t waste time over that ravine,”

he said. “I noticed a wider one farther on

and we’ll see what it’s like, thoug

Hartley led me to understand that he camdown a straight and gently-sloping valley

The one we’re in answers th

description.”

t was two hours before they reached th

second opening, and then Vane

unstrapping his packs, clambered up th

steep face of a crag. When he came bachis face was thoughtful and, sitting down

he lighted his pipe.

“This search seems to take us longer than

expected,” he said. “To begin with, there

are a number of inlets, all of them prett

much alike, along this part of the coast; bu



needn’t go into the reasons for supposin

hat this is the one Hartley visited. Taking

t for granted that we’re right, we’re u

against another difficulty. So far as I couldmake out from the top of that rock, there’

a regular series of ravines running bac

nto the hills.”

“Hartley told you he came straight dow

o tidewater, didn’t he?”

“That’s not much of a guide,” Vanereplied. “The slope of every fissure seem

o run naturally from the inland watershe

o this basin. Hartley was sick, and it wa

raining all the time; and coming out of an

of these ravines he’d only have to make

slight turn to reach the water. What’

more, he could only tell me he wa



heading roughly west and allowing tha

here was no sun visible, that might hav

meant either north-west or south-wes

which gives us the choice of searching thhollows on either side of the main valley

ow, it strikes me as most probable tha

he came down the latter; but we have t

face the question whether we should pusstraight on, or search every opening tha

might be called a valley?”

“What’s your idea?” Carroll rejoined.

“That we ought to go into the thin

systematically and look at every ravin

we come to.”

“I guess you’re right, but I don’t mov

another step to-night.”



“I’ve no wish to urge you. There’s hardl

a joint in my body that doesn’t ache.

Vane flung down his pack and stretched

himself with an air of relief. “That’s whacomes of civilisation and soft living. I

would be nice to sit still while somebod

brought me my supper.”

As there was nobody to do so, he took up

he axe and set about hewing chips off

fallen trunk, while Carroll made a fire

Then he cut the tent poles, and a fewarmfuls of twigs for a bed, and in half a

hour the camp was pitched and a mea

prepared. They afterwards lay a while

smoking and saying little, beside th

sinking fire, the red light of whic

flickered upon the massy trunks and fel

away again. Then they crawled into th



ent and wrapped their blankets roun

hem.



CHAPTER XVII—VANE

POSTPONES THE SEARCH.

When Vane rose early next morning, there

was frost in the air, and when breakfas

was ready the men ate hastily, eager fo

he exertion that would put a little warmtnto them.

“We had it a good deal colder on othe

rips; I suppose I’ve been gettinuxurious, since I seem to resent it now,

said Vane. “There’s no doubt that winter’

beginning earlier than I expected up here

As soon as you can strike the tent, we’lmove on.”

The valley grew wilder and more rugge

as they proceeded. In places, its botto



was filled with muskegs, cumbered wit

half-submerged, decaying trunks of falle

rees; and when they could not spring fro

one falling log to another they sank islime and water to the knee. They entere

ransverse valleys, and after hours o

exhausting labour, abandoned the searc

of each in turn and plodded back to thone they had been following. Their boot

and clothing suffered; their packs wer

rent upon their backs, and, since me

engaged in such work must be generousl

fed, their provisions diminished rapidly.

At length, one lowering afternoon, the

were brought to a standstill by the river

which forked into two branches, one o

which came foaming out on a cleft in th

rocks. This would have mattered less ha



t flowed across the level; but just there i

had scored itself out a deep hollow, fro

which the roar of its turmoil rose in lon

reverberations. Carroll, who was achinall over, stood upon the brink, and first o

all gazed ahead. He surmised from th

steady ascent and the contours of the hill

hat the valley was dying out, and that theshould reach the head of it in anothe

day’s journey. The higher summits

however, were veiled in leaden mist, and

here was a sting in the cold breeze tha

blew down the hollow and set the ragge

firs wailing. Then he glanced dubiously a

he dim, green water, which swirled ideep eddies and boiled in white confusio

among the fangs of rock sixty or sevent

feet below. Not far away the stream wa

wider and he supposed in consequenc



shallower, though it ran furiously.

“It doesn’t look encouraging, and we hav

no more food left than will take us back the sloop if we’re economical,” he said

“Do you think it’s worth while going on?”

“I haven’t a doubt about it,” Vanedeclared. “We ought to reach the head o

he valley and get back here in two o

hree days.”

“Three days will make a big hole in th

provisions.”

“Then we’ll have to put up with shorrations,” Vane rejoined.

“If you’re determined, we may as well ge

on.”



He stepped cautiously over the edge of th

descent, and went down a few yards wit

a run, while loosened soil and stone

slipped away under him. Then he clutchea slender tree, and proceeded as far as th

next on his hands and knees. After that, i

was necessary to swing himself over

edge, and he was on the whole astonishewhen he alighted safely on one below

from which he could scramble down to th

narrow strip of gravel between rock an

water. He was standing, breathless

ooking at the latter, when Vane joined

him. The stones dipped sharply, and two

or three large boulders, ringed about witfroth, rose near the middle of the stream

which seemed to be running slacker on th

other side of them.



There was nothing to show how deep i

was, but Carroll braced himself for a

effort and sturdily plunged in.

Two steps took him up to the waist, and h

had trouble in finding solid bottom at th

next, because the gravel rolled an

slipped away beneath his feet in the stronstream. The current also dragged hard a

his limbs, and he set his lips tight when i

crept up to his ribs. Then he lost hi

footing, and was washed away, plunginand floundering, with now and then on

oe resting momentarily upon the bottom

until he was hurled against the first of th

boulders with a crash that almost drov

he little remaining breath out of his body

He clung to it desperately, gasping hard

and then with a determined struggl





end of the ledge into deeper water, h

reached a strip of shelving shingle, u

which he staggered. Vane overtook him

and they scrambled up the slope aheadwhich was a little less steep than the on

hey had descended. The work warme

hem slightly, and they needed it, but a

hey strode on again, keeping to the foot ohe hillside where the timber was les

dense, a cold rain drove into their faces. I

grew steadily thicker; the straps began t

gall their wet shoulders, and thei

saturated clothing clung heavily abou

heir limbs. In spite of this, they went o

until nightfall, when it was difficult tmake a fire, and after a reduced suppe

found a little humid warmth in their we

blankets.



The next day’s work was much the same

only that they crossed no rivers and i

rained harder; and, when evening came

Carroll, who had burst one boot, waimping badly. They made camp among th

dripping firs which partly sheltered the

from the bitter wind, and shortly afte

supper both fell asleep.

At evening next day they reached the hea

of the valley. It was still raining and heav

mists obscured the summits of the hillsbut above the lower slopes of rock

glimmering snow ran up into the vapour

There were a few balsams and hemlock

about them, but no sign of a spruce.

“Now,” said Carroll, “I expect you’ll b

satisfied.”



Vane was no nearer to owning himsel

defeated than he had been when they firs

set out. “We know there’s no spruce in

his valley; and that’s something,” hreplied. “When we come back again we’l

ry the next one.”

“It has cost us a good deal to make sure ohe fact.”

Vane’s expression changed. “We haven’

ascertained the cost just yet. As a rule, yodon’t make up the bill until you’re throug

with the undertaking; and it may be

onger one than either of us think. Now

we’ll turn upon our tracks.”

Carroll recalled his speech afterwards

but just then he only hitched his burden





“I believe I can hold out until sundown

hough I’m far from sure of it,” he said

“You’ll have to leave me behind if we

don’t strike the inlet then.”

“We’ll strike it in the afternoon,” Vane

assured him.

They set out as soon as they had reslun

heir packs, and Carroll limped an

stumbled. He managed, however, to keep

pace with Vane, and some time after noonhe latter cried out as a twinkling glea

among the trees caught his eye. Then th

shuffling pace grew faster, and they wer

breathless when at last they stopped an

dropped their burdens beside the boat. I

was only at the third or fourth attempt the

got her down to the water, and the vein



were swollen high on Vane’s flushed

forehead when at last he sat down, pantin

heavily, on her gunwale.

“We ran her up quite easily, though we

had the slope to face then,” he remarked.

“You could scarcely expect to carry boatabout without trouble, after a march lik

he one we’ve made,” Carroll pointed out

They ran her in and pulled off to the sloopWhen they sat down in the little saloon, i

which there was a mirror, Vane grinned.

“I knew you looked a deadbeat, but I’d ndea I was quite so bad,” he said

“Anyhow, we’ll get the stove lighted and

some dry things on. The next question is—



what shall we have for supper?”

“That’s simple,” Carroll answered

“Everything that’s most tempting and thwhole of it.”

Some little time later, they flung thei

boots and rent garments overboard and sadown to a feast. The plates were empt

when they rose, and in another hour bot

of them were wrapped in heavy slumber.





heir provisions were once more runnin

out when they drew abreast of a littl

coaling port. Carroll suggested running i

and going on to Victoria by train, but thehad hardly decided to do so when th

fickle breeze died away, and the tide

stream bore them past to the south. The

had no longer a stitch of dry clothing leftand they were again upon reduced rations

Still bad fortune dogged them, for tha

night a fresh head wind sprang up and helsteadily while they thrashed her south

swept by stinging spray. Their temper

grew shorter under the strain, and thei

bodies ached from the chill of thei

soddened garments and sitting hour b

hour at the helm. At last the breeze fell

and shortly afterwards a trail of smok





“Winstanley?” Vane shouted.

The figure waved an arm, as if in assent

and Vane raised his voice again. “Reporus to Mr. Drayton. We’ll come along a

fast as we can.”

The man turned and pointed to the misthorizon, astern. “You’ll get it from the

north before to-morrow.”

Then the straining tug and long wet line oworking raft drew ahead, while the sloop

crawled on, close-hauled, towards th

south. Late that night, however, the mist

melted away, and a keen rushing breezhat came out of the north crisped th

water. She sprang forward when th

ripples reached her; the flapping canva



went to sleep, and while each slack rop

ightened a musical tinkle broke out at th

bows. It grew steadily louder, and whe

he sun swung up red above the easterhills, she had piled the white froth to he

channels and was driving forwar

merrily, with little sparkling sea

umbling, foam-tipped, after her. The windfell light as the sun rose higher, but she ra

on all day, and the western sky was stil

blazing with a wondrous green when sh

stole into Vancouver harbour.

The light faded as they crept across th

nlet before a faint breeze, but when the

had got the anchor over and the boat int

he water, Carroll made out two di

figures standing on the wharf and waved

hand to them.



“It’s Drayton, I think,” he said. “Kitty’

with him.”

They pulled ashore, and Drayton shoohands with them.

“I’ve been looking out for you sinc

noon,” he said. “What about that spruce?”

There was eagerness in his voice, an

Vane’s face clouded. “We couldn’t find a

race of it.”

Drayton’s disappointment was obvious

hough he tried to hide it. “Well,” he said

resignedly, “I’ve no doubt you did all yocould.”

“Of course,” Kitty broke in. “We’re quite

sure of that.”



Vane thanked her with a glance; he fel

sorry for her and Drayton. They wer

strongly attached to each other, and he had

reason for believing that even with thadvanced salary the man expected to ge

hey would find it needful to study stric

economy.

“I’m going to make another attempt.

expect some of our difficulties will vanis

after I’ve had a talk with Hartley,” h

said.

Kitty looked grave. “That’s impossible,

she answered softly. “Hartley died a wee

ago.”

Vane started.



“I’m sorry,” he said. “How’s Celia?”

“She’s very sick.” There was concern in

Kitty’s voice. “Hartley got worse sooafter you left, and she sat up all night wit

him after her work for the last two weeks

ow she’s broken down, and she doesn’

seem to know if they’ll take her bacagain at the hotel.”

“I must go and see her,” said Vane. “Bu

won’t you and Drayton come with us anhave dinner?”

Drayton explained that this was out of th

question—Kitty’s employer, who haddriven in that afternoon, was waiting wit

his team; and the party left the whar

ogether. A few minutes later, Vane shook



hands with the girl and her companion.

“Don’t lose heart,” he said. “We’re fa

from beaten yet.”

They separated, and after dinner Vane

who rejoiced in the unusual luxury o

clean, dry clothes, walked across to calon Nairn. He was shown into a roo

where Jessie Horsfield was sitting, bu

she rose with a slight start when he cam

n. Vane, who had been preoccupied sincehe had heard Kitty’s news, did not notic

t, and Jessie’s manner was reposeful and

quietly friendly when she held out he

hand.

“So you have come back?” she said

“Have you succeeded in your search?”



Vane was gratified. It was pleasant to fee

hat she was interested in his undertaking.

“No,” he confessed. “I’m afraid I havfailed.”

“Then,” said Jessie, with reproach in he

voice, “you have disappointed me.”

t was skilful flattery, since she had

conveyed the impression that she ha

expected him to succeed, which impliehat she held a high opinion of hi

abilities.

“After all, you must have had a good deaagainst you,” she resumed consolingly

“Won’t you sit down and tell me about it

airn, I understand, is writing som



etters, and he sent for Mrs. Nairn jus

before you came in.”

She indicated a chair beside the opehearth and Vane sat down opposite her

where a low screen cut them off from th

rest of the room. Vane, who was still stif

and aching from exposure to the cold anrain, revelled in the unusual sense o

comfort. In addition to this, hi

companion’s pose was singularl

graceful, and the ease of it and the friendlsmile with which she regarded hi

somehow implied that they were o

excellent terms.

“It’s very nice to be here again,” he said.

Jessie looked up at him languidly. He had



spoken as he felt, on impulse, which wa

more gratifying than an obvious desire t

pay her a compliment would have been.

“I suppose you wouldn’t get man

comforts in the bush,” she suggested.

“No,” said Vane. “Comforts of any kindare remarkably scarce up yonder. As a

matter of fact, I can’t imagine a countr

where the contrasts between the luxurie

of civilisation and the other thing arsharper. But that wasn’t exactly what

meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I don’t know that it’s worth explaining,

Vane answered with an air o



consideration. “We have rather luxuriou

quarters at the hotel, but this room i

somehow different. It’s restful—I thin

t’s homely—in-fact, as I said, it’s nice tobe here.”

Jessie understood that he had bee

attempting to analyse his feelings, and hafailed clearly to recognise that he

presence contributed to the satisfaction h

was conscious of. She had no doubt that i

he were a man of average susceptibilityhe company of an attractive woma

would have some effect on him after hi

sojourn in the wilds; but whether she ha

produced any deeper effect she could no

determine. Nor did it appear judicious t

prompt him unduly.



“But won’t you tell me your adventures?

she said.

t required a few leading questions to starhim, but at length he told the story.

“You see,” he said in conclusion, “it wa

ack of definite knowledge as much as thnatural obstacles that brought us back—

and I’ve been troubled about the thin

since we landed.”

Jessie’s manner invited his confidence. “

wonder,” she said softly, “if you would

care to tell me why?”

“Hartley’s dead, and I understand hi

daughter has broken down after nursin

him. It’s doubtful if her situation can b



kept open, and it may be some time befor

she’s strong enough to look for another.”

He hesitated. “In a way, I feel responsibl

for her.”

“You really aren’t responsible in the

east,” Jessie declared. “Still, I ca

understand the idea troubling you. Wouldyou like me to help you?”

“I can hardly ask it, but it would be

relief to me,” Vane answered withobvious eagerness.

“Then, if you’ll tell me her address, I’ll g

o see her, and we’ll consider what can bdone.”

Vane leaned forward impulsively. “You



have taken a weight off my mind. It’

difficult to thank you properly.”

“I don’t suppose it will give me anrouble. Of course, it must b

embarrassing to feel you had a helples

young woman on your hands.”

Then a thought flashed into her mind, a

she remembered what she had seen at th

station some months ago. “I wonder if th

situation is an altogether unusual one tyou,” she continued. “Have you never le

your pity run away with your judgmen

before?”

“You wouldn’t expect me to proclaim my

charities,” Vane objected humorously

which was the only means of parrying th





Vancouver in his company had

undoubtedly rankled in her mind. Now sh

acquitted him of any blame, and it was

relief to do so. She changed the subjecabruptly.

“I suppose you will make another attemp

o find timber?” she suggested.

“Yes,” said Vane. “In a week or two.”

He had hardly spoken when Mrs. Naircame in and welcomed him with her usua

friendliness.

“I’m glad to see ye, though ye’re lookinhin,” she said. “Why did ye not com

straight to us, instead of going to the hotel

Ye would have got as good a supper a



hey would give ye there.”

“I haven’t a doubt of it,” Vane declared

“On the other hand, I hardly think even onof your suppers would quite have put righ

he defect in my appearance yo

mentioned. You see, the cause of it has

been at work for some time.”

Mrs. Nairn regarded him with half

amused compassion. “If ye’ll come owe

every evening, we’ll soon cure that. would have been down sooner if Alec

who’s writing letters, had not kept me

There was a matter or two he wanted t

ask my opinion on.”

“I think that was very wise of him.”





writes that she’ll be glad to get away

while. Now, I’ve been wondering why sh

should be anxious to leave home.”

She looked at him fixedly, and to hi

annoyance he felt his face grow ho

Mrs. Nairn had quick perceptions, an

was now and then painfully direct.

“It struck me that Evelyn was not ver

comfortable there,” he replied. “Sh

seemed out of harmony with her people.”

Mrs. Nairn glanced at him again wit

amusement in her eyes. “It’s no unlikely

The reason may serve—for the want of better.” Then she changed her tone. “Ye’l

away up to Alec; he told me to send ye.”



Vane went out of the room, but he lef

Jessie in a thoughtful mood. She had see

him start at the mention of Evelyn, and i

struck her as significant, since she haheard that he had spent some time with th

Chisholms; On the other hand there wa

he obvious fact that he had bee

astonished to hear that Evelyn was cominout, which implied that their acquaintanc

had not progressed far enough to warran

he girl’s informing him. Besides, Evely

would arrive for a month, and Jessi

reflected that she would probably see

good deal of Vane in the meanwhile. She

now felt glad that she had promised took after Celia Hartley, which would, no

doubt, necessitate her consulting with hi

every now and then.



CHAPTER XIX—VANE FORESEES

TROUBLE.

airn was sitting at a writing-table whe

Vane entered his room, and after a few

questions about his journey, he handed th

younger man one of the papers that lay ifront of him.

“It’s a report from the mine,” he said.

Vane carefully studied the document.

“It only brings us back to our las

conversation on the subject,” he remarkewhen his host glanced at him inquiringly

“We have the choice of going on as we

are doing, or extending our operations b

an increase of capital. In the latter case



our total earnings might be larger, but

hardly think there would be as good

return on the money actually sunk. Taking

t all round, I don’t know what to thinkbut if it appeared that there was a mora

certainty of making a satisfactory profit o

he new stock, I should consent.”

airn chuckled. “A moral certainty is no

very common thing in mining.”

“I believe Horsfield’s in favour of thscheme. How far would you trust tha

man?” Vane inquired.

“About as far as I could fling a bull by thail. The same thing applies to both o

hem.”





has no an interest in. Since ye do not see

nclined to yield Horsfield a point or two

t might pay ye to watch the pair of them.”

Vane, who was aware that Winter was a

person of some importance in financia

circles, remained silent for a couple o

minutes. “Now,” he said, at length, “everdollar we have in the Clermont is usefull

employed and earning a satisfactor

profit. Of course, if we put the concern o

he market, we might get more than it iworth from investors; but that doesn’

greatly appeal to me.”

“It’s unnecessary to point out that

director’s interest is no invariably th

same as that of his shareholders,” Nair

rejoined.



“It’s an unfortunate fact. But I’d be no

better off if I only got the same actua

return on a larger amount of what woul

be watered stock.”

“There’s sense in that. I’m no urging th

scheme—there are other points against it,

answered Nairn.

“Well,” said Vane, “I’ll go up and look

round the mine and then we’ll hav

another talk about the matter.”

They changed the subject, but Vane

walked back to his hotel in a thoughtfu

frame of mind, and finding Carroll in thsmoking-room related his conversatio

with Nairn.



“I’m a little troubled about the situation,

he concluded. “The Clermont finances ar

now on a sound basis, but it might after al

prove advantageous to raise furthecapital, and in such a case we would

perhaps, lie open to attack. Nairn’

nclined to be cryptic in his remarks; bu

he seems to hint that it would be advisablo make Horsfield some concession—i

other words, to buy him off.”

“Which is a course you have objectiono?”

“Yes,” said Vane, “very decided ones.”

“I think that, in a general way, Nairn’

advice is sensible. Where mining an

other schemes are floated, there are me



who make a good living out of th

operations. They’re trained to th

business; they’ve control of the dollars

and when a new thing’s put on the markethey consider they’ve the first claim on th

pickings.”

“You needn’t elaborate the point,” Vanebroke in impatiently.

“You made your appearance in this city a

a poor and unknown man with a mine tsell,” Carroll went on. “Disregardin

actful hints, you laid down your terms an

stuck to them. Launching your ventur

without considering their views, you di

he gentlemen I’ve mentioned out of thei

accustomed toll, and I’ve no doubt tha

some of them were indignant. It’s a thin



you wouldn’t expect them to sanction

ow, however, one who has probably

others behind him is making overtures t

you. You ought to consider it acompliment; a recognition of ability. Th

question is—Do you mean to slight thes

advances and go on as you have begun?”

“That’s my present intention,” Vane

answered.

“Then you needn’t be astonished if yofind yourself up against a determine

opposition by and by,” said Carroll.

“I think my friends will stand by me.Vane looked at him steadily.

“Thanks. I’ve merely been pointing ou



what you may expect, and hinting at th

most judicious course—though the latter’

rather against my natural inclinations. I’

better add that I’ve never beeparticularly prudent, and the opposit

policy appeals to me. If we’re forced t

clear for action, we’ll nail the flag to th

mast.”

t was spoken lightly; because the ma

was serious, but Vane knew he had an ally

who would support him with unflinchinstaunchness.

“I’m far from sure it will be needful,” h

replied, and they talked about othe

matters until they strolled off to thei

rooms.



They spent the next week in the city

where Vane was kept occupied; afte

which they sailed once more for the north

and pushed inland until they were stoppeby snow among the ranges, without findin

he spruce. The journey proved a

oilsome as the previous one, and both th

men were worn out when they reached thcoast. Vane was determined on making a

hird attempt, but he informed Carroll tha

hey would visit the mine befor

proceeding to Vancouver. They had heavy

rain during the voyage down the Strai

and when on the day after reaching port

he jaded horses they had hired ploddeup the sloppy trail to the mine, a pitiles

deluge once more poured down on them.

The light was growing dim among th



dripping firs, and a deep-toned roar cam

hrobbing across their shadowy ranks. B

and by Vane; who was leading, turned and

glanced back at Carroll.

“I’ve never heard the river so plainl

before,” he said. “It must be unusuall

swollen.”

Since the mine was situated on a narrow

evel flat between the hillside and th

river, Carroll understood the anxiety in hicomrade’s voice; and urging the wearied

horses they pressed on a little faster. I

was almost dark when they reached th

edge of an opening in the firs, and saw

cluster of iron-roofed, wooden building

and a tall chimney stack, in front of whic

he unsightly ore-dump extended. Wet and



chilled and worn out as the men were

here was comfort in the sight; but Vane

noticed that a shallow lake stretche

between him and the buildings. On onside of it there was a broad strip o

umbling foam, which rose and fell i

confused upheavals and filled the fores

with the roar it made. Vane drove hihorse into the water, and dismountin

among the stumps before the ore-dump

found a wet and soil-stained man awaitin

him. A long trail of smoke floated away

from the iron stack behind him, an

hrough the sound of the river there brok

he clank and thud of hard-driven pumps.

“You have got a big head of steam up

Salter,” he said.



The man nodded. “We want it. It’s taking

me all my time to keep the water out of th

workings. Leave your horses—I’ll sen

along for them—and I’ll show you whawe’ve been doing after supper.”

“I’d sooner go now, while I’m wet,” Vane

answered.

They went down into the mine. Th

approach looked like a canal, and the

descended the shallow shaft amidst a thicascade. The tunnel they reached slanted

for the lode dipped, and the lights tha

winkled here and there among th

imbering showed shadowy, half-naked

figures toiling in water which rose wel

up their boots. Further streams of it ran i

from fissures, and Vane’s face grew grave



as he plodded through the flood with

amp in his hand. He spent an hour in th

workings, asking Salter a question now

and then, and afterwards went back withim to one of the sheds, where he dresse

n dry clothes and sat down to a meal.

When it was over and the table had beecleared, he lay in a canvas chair besid

he stove, in which resinous billet

snapped and crackled cheerfully. Th

deluge roared upon the iron roof; the sonof the river rose and fell, filling the plac

with sound; and now and then th

pounding and clanking of the pumps brok

n.

Vane examined the sheet of figures Salte

handed him. Then he carefully turned ove



some of the pieces of stone the table wa

partly covered with.

“There’s no doubt those specimens aren’so promising, and the cost of extraction i

going up,” he said at length. “I’ll have

alk with Nairn when I get back, but in th

meanwhile it looks as if we were going thave trouble with the water.”

“It’s a thing I’ve been afraid of for som

ime,” Salter answered. “We can keepdown any leakage that comes in throug

he rocks, though it means driving th

pumps hard, but an inrush from the rive

would beat us.”

Vane let the matter drop, and an hour late

he retired to his wooden berth. In a few



minutes he was fast asleep, but wa

awakened by a shrill note, which h

recognised as the whistle of the engine. I

was sounding the alarm, and next momenhe was struggling into his clothing; the

he door swung open and Salter stood i

he entrance, lantern in hand, with wate

rickling from him. There was keeanxiety in his expression.

“Flood’s lapping the bank top now,” he

said. “There’s a jamb in the narrow placat the head of the rapid, and the water’

backing up. I’m going along with th

boys.”

He vanished as suddenly as he ha

appeared, and Vane dragged on his jacket

f the mine were drowned, operation



might be stopped for a considerable time

What was more, it would precipitate

crisis in the affairs of the company an

necessitate an increase of its capitawhich he would sooner avoid.

He was outside in less than a minute an

stood still looking about him, while thdeluge lashed his face and beat hi

clothing against his limbs. He could onl

make out a blurred mass of climbing tree

on one side, and a strip of foam cuttinhrough the black level which he suppose

was water, in front of him. His trained

ears, however, gave him a littl

nformation, for the clamour of the floo

was broken by a sharp snapping an

crashing, which he knew was made b

driftwood driving furiously against th



boulders. In that region, the river bank

are encumbered here and there with grea

ogs, partly burned by forest fires, reape

by gales, or brought down from the hillsides by falls of frost-loosened soil. A

flood higher than usual sets them floating

and on subsiding sometimes leaves the

packed in a gorge or stranded in a shallowo wait for the next big rise. Now the

were driving down and, as Salter ha

said, jambing at the head of the rapid.

Suddenly a column of fierce whit

radiance leaped up lower down-strea

and Vane knew that a big compressed ai

amp had been carried to the spot wher

he driftwood was gathering. Even at

distance, the brightness of the glar

dazzled him, so that he could see nothin



else when he headed towards it. H

collided with a fir stump and struck it wit

his knee, and in another minute th

splashing about his feet warned him thahe was entering the water. Having no wish

o walk into the main stream, h

floundered to one side. He was, however

getting nearer to the blaze, and by and bhe made out a swarm of figures scurryin

about beneath it. Some of them had saw

or axes, for he caught the gleam of stee

and broke into a run; and presentl

Carroll, whom he had forgotten, came up

calling to him.



CHAPTER XX—THE FLOOD.

When he reached the blast lamp, whic

was raised on a tall tripod, Vane stood

with his back to the pulsating blaze whil

he grasped the details of a somewha

mpressive scene. A little up-stream o

him the river leaped out of the darkness

breaking into foaming waves, and a wal

of dripping firs flung back the roar i

made, the first rows of serried trunkstanding out hard and sharp in the fierc

white light. Nearer where he stood,

projecting spur of rock narrowed in th

river, which boiled tumultuously againsts foot, while about half-way across th

op of a giant boulder rose above th

flood.



Vane could only just see it, because a

mass of driftwood, which wa

momentarily growing, stretched from ban

o bank. A big log, drifting downsideways, had brought up upon th

boulder and once fixed had seized an

held fast each succeeding trunk. Some ha

been driven partly out upon those that hapreceded them; some had been draw

beneath the latter, and catching the botto

had jambed. Then the rest had bee

wedged by the current into the gatherin

mass; trunks, branches, and brushwood al

finding a place. When the stream is strong

a jamb, as it is called, usually extenddownwards, as well as rises, as the wate

t pens back increases in depth, until i

forms a solid barrier from surface to bed

f it occurs during a log-drive, the river i



choked with lumber. Bent figures were a

work with axes at the shoreward end o

he mass; others had crawled out along th

ogs, in search of another point where thecould advantageously be attacked; bu

Vane, watching them with practised eyes

decided that they were largely throwin

heir toil away. Next, he glanced downstream; but powerful as the light was, i

did not pierce far into the darkness and th

rain, and the mad white rush of the rapi

vanished abruptly into the surroundin

gloom. Then he caught the clink of

hammer on a drill, and seeing Salter no

far away strode towards him.

“How are you getting to work?” he asked

Salter pointed to the foot of the rock the





making out of it, but you can hire men t

do the kind of work you think o

undertaking for three dollars a day.”

“We’ll let the boys try it, if they’re

willing.” Vane raised his voice. “Are any

of you open to earn twenty dollars? I’l

pay that to the man who’ll put a stick ogiant-powder in yonder boulder, and

another twenty to whoever can find th

king log and chop it through.”

Three or four of them crept cautiousl

along the driftwood bridge. It heaved an

worked beneath them; the foam sluice

across it, and the stream forced the thinne

ops of shattered trees above the barrier. I

was obvious that the men were risking lif

and limb, and there was a cry from the res



when one of them went down an

momentarily disappeared. He scramble

o his feet again, but those behind hi

stopped, bracing themselves against thstream, knee-deep in rushing froth. Mos

of them had followed rough and dangerou

occupation in the bush; but they were no

professional river-Jacks trained to higproficiency in log-driving, and one turnin

shouted to the watchers on the bank.

“This jamb’s not solid,” he explained“She’s working open and shutting; and yo

can’t tell where the breaks are.” H

stooped and rubbed his leg, and Vane

understood him to add: “Figured I had i

smashed.”

Vane swung round towards Carroll, who





better go,” Carroll replied.

They sprang down the bank. Vane crawled

out on the working timber, with Carrollwho carried a heavy hammer, a few fee

behind him. The perilous bridge the

raversed groaned beneath their feet, bu

hey had joined the other men before thecame to any particularly troublesom

opening. Then the cluster of wet figure

was brought up by a gap filled wit

eaping foam, in the midst of whicbrushwood swung to and fro an

projecting branches ground on on

another. Whether there was solid timber

foot or two beneath, or only the entranc

o some cavity by which the stream swep

hrough the barrier, there was nothing to

show, but Vane set his lips and jumped



He alighted on something that bore him

and when the others followed, flounderin

and splashing, the deliberation which ha

hitherto characterised their movementsuddenly deserted them. They had reache

he limit beyond which it was no longe

useful.

When they had crossed the gap, Vane and

hose behind him blundered on in hot fury

They had risen to the demand on them, an

he curious psychic change had come; nowhey must achieve success or fac

annihilation. But in this there was nothin

unusual; it is the alternative offered t

many a log-driver, miner, and sailor-man.

either Vane nor Carroll, nor any of those

who assisted them, had any clea





About them, bowed figures that breathe

n stertorous gasps grappled desperatel

with grinding, smashing logs. Sometime

hey were forced up in harsh distinctnesby a dazzling glare; sometimes they fade

nto blurred shadows as the pulsatin

flame upon the bank sank a little or wa

momentarily blown aside; but all thwhile gorged veins rose on bronze

foreheads and toil-hardened muscles wer

axed to the uttermost. At last, when

runk rolled beneath him, Carroll missed

stroke and realised with a shock of disma

hat it was not the drill he had brought hi

hammer down upon.

“I couldn’t help it,” he gasped. “Wher

did I hit you?”



“Get on,” Vane said hoarsely. “I can hold

he drill.”

Carroll struck for a few more minutesafter which he flung down the hammer an

nserted the giant-powder into the hole

sunk in the stone. Next he lighted the fuse

and, warning the others, they hastilrecrossed the dangerous bridge. They ha

reached the edge of the forest when a flas

sprang up amidst the foam and a sharp

crash was followed by a deafeningdrawn-out uproar. Rending, grinding

smashing, the jamb broke up, hammere

upon the partly shattered boulder, and

carrying it away or driving over it washe

n tremendous ruin down the rapid. Whe

he wild clamour had subsided, Salte

gave the men some instructions, and the



as they approached the lamp notice

Vane’s reddened hand.

“That looks a nasty smash; you want to get seen to,” he remarked.

“I’ll get it dressed at the settlement; we’l

make an early start to-morrow,” saidVane. “We were lucky in breaking the

amb; but you’ll have the same troubl

over again any time a heavy flood bring

down an unusual quantity of driftwood.”

“It’s what I’d expect,” agreed Salter.

“Then something will have to be done tprevent it. I’ll go into the matter when

reach the city.”

Carroll and Vane walked back to the



shack, where the former bound up hi

comrade’s injured hand, and, after a rest

eft the mine early next morning. Vane go

his hand dressed when they reached thittle mining town at the head of th

railroad, and on the following day the

arrived in Vancouver.



CHAPTER XXI—VANE YIELDS A

POINT.

The short afternoon was drawing toward

ts close when Vane came out of a

building in Hastings Street, Vancouver.

“The meeting went satisfactorily, taking i

all round,” he remarked to Carroll, wh

was with him.

“I think so,” agreed his companion. “Bu

’m far from sure that Horsfield wa

pleased with the stockholders’ decision.”

Vane nodded in a thoughtful manner. After

returning from the mine, he had gon

nland to examine a new irrigatio

property he had been asked to take a



nterest in, and had only got back in tim

for a meeting of the Clermon

shareholders, which Nairn had arranged i

his absence. The meeting was just overand though Vane had been forced to yield

o a majority on some points, he ha

secured the abandonment of a propositio

he considered dangerous.

“Though I don’t see what the man coul

have gained by it, I’m inclined to believ

hat if Nairn and I had been absent he’have carried his reconstruction scheme,

he said. “That wouldn’t have pleased me.

“I thought it injudicious,” Carrol

commented.

“It was only because we must raise mor



money I agreed to the issue of the new

shares,” Vane went on. “We ought to pay

fair dividend on such a moderate sum.”

“You think you’ll get it?”

“I’ve not much doubt.”

Vane was capable and forceful; but hi

abilities were rather of a practical than

diplomatic order, and he was occasionall

addicted to headstrong action. Knowinhat he had a very cunning antagonis

ntriguing against him, his companion ha

misgivings.

“Shall we walk back to the hotel?” h

asked.

“No,” said Vane; “I’ll go across and see



how Celia Hartley’s getting on. I’m afraid

’ve been forgetting her.”

“Then I’ll come too. You may need mehere are matters you’re not to be truste

with alone.”

Just then Nairn came down the steps anwaved his hand to them. “Ye will no

forget that Mrs. Nairn is expecting both o

ye this evening.”

He passed on, and they set off togethe

across the city towards the district wher

Celia lived. Though the quarter i

question may have been improved out oexistence since, some little time ago row

of low-rented shacks stood upon mound

of sweating sawdust which had bee



dumped into a swampy hollow. Leaky

frail, and fissured, they were not the kin

of places any one who could help it woul

choose to live in; but Vane found the sickgirl still installed in one of the worst o

hem. She looked pale and haggard; bu

she was busily at work upon som

millinery, and the light of a tin lampshowed Drayton and Kitty Blake sittin

near her.

“You oughtn’t to be at work; you don’ook fit,” Vane said to Celia, and hesitated

a moment before he continued: “I’m sorr

we couldn’t find that spruce; but, as I tol

Drayton, we’re going back to try again.”

The girl smiled bravely. “Then you’ll find

t next time. I’m glad I’m able to do



ittle; it brings a few dollars in.”

“But what are you doing?”

“Making hats. I did one for Mis

Horsfield, and afterwards friends of her

sent me some more to trim. She said she’

ry to get me some work from one of thbig stores.”

“But you’re not a milliner, are you?” said

Vane, who felt grateful to Jessie for thepractical way in which she had kept he

promise to assist.

“Celia’s something better,” Kitty broke in“She’s a genius.”

The others laughed, and Vane, anxious to

urn the conversation away from Mis



Horsfield’s action, led them on to genera

chatter, under cover of which he drew

Drayton to the door.

“The girl looks far from fit,” he said. “Ha

he doctor been over lately?”

“Two or three days ago,” answeredDrayton. “We’ve been worried about her

t’s out of the question that she should go

back to the hotel, and she can only manag

o work a few hours daily. There’another thing—the clerk of the fellow wh

owns these shacks has just been along fo

his rent. It’s overdue.”

“Where’s he now?”

Drayton laughed, for the sounds of



vigorous altercation rose from farther up

he unlighted street. “I guess he’s yonder

having some more trouble with hi

collecting.”

“I’ll fix that matter, anyway,” said Vane

who disappeared into the darkness.

t was some time later when he re-entere

he shack, and waited until a remark o

Celia’s gave him a lead.

“You’re really a partner in the lumbe

scheme,” he said. “I can’t see why yo

shouldn’t draw some of your share of th

proceeds beforehand.”

“The first payment isn’t to be made unti

you find the spruce and get your lease,



he girl reminded him. “You’ve already

paid a hundred dollars we had no clai

upon.”

“That doesn’t matter; I’m going to find it.”

“Yes,” said Celia, with a look o

confidence, “I think you will. But,” and flicker of colour crept into her thin fac

—“I can’t take any more money until it’

done.”

Vane, failing in another attempt to shake

her resolution, dropped the subject, an

soon afterwards he and Carroll took thei

departure. They were sitting in their hotewaiting for dinner, when Carroll, who la

n a luxurious chair, looked up lazily.



“What are you thinking about so hard?” h

nquired.

Vane glanced meaningly round theelaborately furnished room. “There’s

contrast between all this and that rotte

shack. Did you notice that Celia neve

stopped sewing while we were in?”

“I did,” said Carroll. “I suppose you’r

going to propound another conundrum of

kind I’ve heard before—why you shoulhave so many things you don’t particularl

need while Miss Hartley must go o

sewing, when she’s hardly able for it, in

her most unpleasant shack? I don’t know i

he fact that you found a mine answers th

question; but if it doesn’t the thing’

beyond your philosophy.”



“Come off,” Vane bade him with signs o

mpatience. “Your moralising gets on

one’s nerves. Anyhow, I straightened ou

one difficulty—I found the rent manwho’d been round worrying her, and go

rid of him.”

Carroll groaned in mock dismay, whiccovered some genuine annoyance wit

himself.

“What’s the matter?” Vane inquired. “Doyou want a drink?”

“I’ll get over it,” Carroll informed him. “I

sn’t the first time I’ve suffered from thsame complaint. But I’d like to point ou

hat your chivalrous impulses may be th

ruin of you some day. Why didn’t you le



Drayton settle with the man? You gave

him a cheque, I suppose?”

“I did; I’d only a few loose dollars on meow I see what you’re driving at, and

want to say that any little reputation

possess can pretty well take care o

tself.”

“Just so. No doubt it will be necessary

but you’re not the only person concerned.”

“But who’s likely to take notice of th

hing?”

“I can’t tell; but you make enemies as welas friends, and you’re walking in slipper

places which you’re not altogethe

accustomed to. You can’t meet you



difficulties with the axe here.”

“That’s true,” assented Vane, and they

went in to dinner.

After the meal, they walked across t

airn’s, and when they had been ushered

nto a room in which several other guestwere assembled, Vane sat down on a sofa

beside Jessie Horsfield.

“I want to thank you; I was over at MisHartley’s this afternoon,” he began.

“I understood you were at the minin

meeting.”

“So I was; your brother would tell tha

—-”



Vane broke off, remembering that he had

defeated Horsfield.

“You were opposed to him; but it doesn’follow that I share all his views. Perhaps

ought to be a stauncher partisan.”

“If you’ll be just to both of us, I’ll bsatisfied.”

“I suppose that means you’re convinced o

he equity of your cause,” she suggested.

“I expect I deserve the rebuke, but aren’

you trying to switch me off the subject?

Vane answered with a laugh. “It’s CeliaHartley I want to talk about.”

He did her injustice; Jessie felt that sh

had earned his gratitude, and she had n



objection to his expressing it.

“It was a happy thought of yours to giv

her hats and things to make; I’m ever smuch obliged to you. I felt you could b

rusted to think of the right thing. An

ngenious idea of that kind would neve

have occurred to me.”

“It was very simple; I noticed a hat an

dress of hers which she owned she ha

made. The girl has some talent; I’m onlsorry I can’t keep her busy.”

“Couldn’t you give her an order for

dozen hats? I’d be glad to bresponsible.”

“The difficulty would be the disposal o



hem. They would be of no use to you, an

couldn’t allow you to present them t

me.”

“I wish I could,” Vane declared. “You

certainly deserve them.”

This was satisfactory, so far as it wenthough Jessie would have preferred tha

his desire to bestow the favour shoul

have sprung from some other motive tha

a recognition of her services to CeliHartley. She was, however, convinced

hat his only feeling towards the girl wa

one of compassion. Then she saw that h

was looking at her with half-humorou

annoyance in his face.

“Are you grieved I won’t take those hats?



she asked.

“I am,” Vane confessed and proceeded to

explain with unnecessary ingenuousness“I’m still more vexed with the state o

hings its typical of—I suppose I mean th

restrictedness of this civilised life. Whe

you want to do anything in the bush, yoake the axe and set about it; but her

you’re continually running up against som

artificial obstacle.”

“One understands that it’s worse i

England,” said Jessie. “But in regard t

Miss Hartley, I’ll recommend her to m

friends as far as I can.”

Just then Vane made an abrupt movement

and Jessie realised by his expression tha



he had suddenly become oblivious of he

presence. She had no doubt about th

reason for this, because Evelyn Chishol

entered the room. The lamplight fell upoher as she crossed the threshold, an

Jessie recognised unwillingly that sh

ooked surprisingly handsome. Handsome

however, was not the word Vane wouldhave used. He thought Evelyn looke

exotic, highly cultivated, strangely refined

as though she had grown up in a rarefie

atmosphere in which nothing rank coul

hrive. Though Evelyn had her faults, th

mpression she made on him was

perhaps, more or less justifiable.

Then he remembered that the girl had bee

offered to him and he had refused the gift

He wondered how he had exerted th



necessary strength of will, for he wa

conscious that admiration, respect, pity

had now changed and melted into sudde

passion. His blood tingled and, as ihappened, no change of his expressio

was lost upon his companion.

Laying a check upon his thoughts, hresumed a desultory conversation wit

Jessie, though he betrayed himself severa

imes during it, and at length she let hi

go. It was, however, some time before hsecured a place beside Evelyn. He wa

now quiet and self-contained.

“Nairn promised me a surprise thi

evening, but it has exceeded all m

expectations,” he said. “How are you

people?”



Evelyn informed him that their health wa

satisfactory, and added, watching him th

while: “Gerald sent his bes

remembrances.”

“Ah!” said Vane in a casual manner, “I’m

glad to have them.”

Evelyn was now convinced that Mabe

had been correct in concluding that he ha

assisted Gerald financially, though sh

was aware that nothing would induceither of the men to acquaint her with th

fact.

“I understood from Mrs. Nairn that yowere away in the bush,” she said.

He turned and regarded her steadily. “Tha



was the case, and I’m shortly going of

again. Perhaps it’s fortunate that I may b

away some time. It will leave you more a

ease.”

The last remark was more of a questio

han an assertion, and Evelyn knew th

man could be direct. She also esteemecandour.

“No,” she said; “I wouldn’t wish you t

hink that—and I wouldn’t like to believhat I had anything to do with driving yo

away.”

Vane saw a faintly warmer tone showhrough the clear pallor of her skin; bu

while his heart beat faster than usual h

felt that she meant just what she said an



nothing more. He must proceed wit

caution, which was, on the whole, foreig

o him; and shortly afterwards he left her.

When he had gone, Evelyn sat thinkin

about him. She had shrunk from the man i

rebellious alarm when her parents woul

have bestowed her hand on him; but evehen, and undoubtedly afterwards, she ha

felt that there was something in his natur

which would have attracted her, had sh

been willing to allow it to do so. Nowhough he had said nothing to rouse it, th

feeling was stronger. Then sh

remembered with a rather curious smil

her father’s indignation when Vane had

withdrawn from the field. He had don

his because she had appealed to hi

generosity, and she had been grateful to



him; but, unreasonable as she admitted th

faint resentment she was conscious of t

be, the recollection of the fact that he ha

yielded to her wishes was somehowbitter.

n the meanwhile, Carroll had taken hi

place by Jessie’s side.

“I understand you steered your comrad

satisfactorily through the meeting to-day,

she began.

“No,” objected Carroll, “I can’t claim an

credit for doing so. In matters of the kind

Vane takes full control, and I’m willing toown that he drove us all, including you

brother, on the course he chose.”



“Then it’s in other matters you exercise

ittle judicious pressure on the helm?”

The man looked at her in well-assumeadmiration of her keenness. “I don’t know

how you guessed it, but I suppose it’s

fact. It’s, however, an open secret tha

Vane’s now and then unguardedlyngenuous; indeed, there are respects i

which he’s a babe by comparison, we’l

say, with either of us.”

“That’s rather a dubious compliment,

Jessie informed him. “What do you thin

of Miss Chisholm? I suppose you saw

good deal of her in England?”

“I spent a month or two in her company

so did Vane. I fancy she’s rather like him



n several ways; and there are reasons fo

believing that he thinks a good deal o

her.”

Having watched Vane carefully when

Evelyn came in, Jessie was inclined t

agree with him, and she glanced round th

room. One or two people were movinabout and the rest were talking in littl

groups; but there was nobody very near

and she fancied that she and he

companion were safe from interruption.

“What were some of the reasons?” sh

asked.

Carroll had expected some question o

his description, and had decided t

answer it plainly, because it seemed



probable that Jessie would get th

nformation out of him in one way o

another. He had also another motive

which he thought a commendable oneJessie had obviously taken a certai

nterest in Vane, but it could not have gone

very far as yet, and Vane did no

reciprocate it. The latter was, howevermpulsive, while Jessie was calculatin

and clever, and Carroll, who was slightl

afraid of her, foresaw that complication

might follow any increase of friendlines

between her and his comrade. He though

t would be better if she left Vane alone.

“Well,” he said, “since you have asked

’ll try to tell you.”

He proceeded to recount what had passe



at the Dene and Jessie listened, with a

expressionless face.

“So he gave her up—because he admireher?” she said at length.

“That’s my view of it,” Carroll agreed.

Jessie made no comment, but he felt tha

she was hardly hit, which was not what h

had anticipated. He began to wonder if h

had acted judiciously and he glanceabout the room. It did not see

considerate to study her expression then

A few moments later she turned to hi

with a smile in which there was thfaintest hint of strain.

“I daresay you are right; but there are on



or two people I haven’t spoken to,” sh

said and moved away from him.

Some time after this Mrs. Nairn camupon Carroll standing for the momen

alone. “It’s no often one sees ye lookin

moody,” she informed him. “Was Jessie

no gracious?”

“That,” said Carroll, smiling, “is not th

difficulty. I’m an unsusceptible and

somewhat inconspicuous person, noworth powder and shot, so to speak, fo

which I’m sometimes thankful. I believe i

saves me a good deal of trouble.”

“Then, is it something Vane has done tha

s on your mind? Doubtless, ye feel him

responsibility?”



“He’s all that,” Carroll confessed. “Still

you see, I’ve constituted myself hi

guardian; I don’t know why, because he’d

probably be very vexed if he suspectet.”

“The gods give ye a good conceit o

yourself!” Mrs. Nairn exclaimed.

“I need it,” said Carroll humbly. “Thi

afternoon I let him do a most injudiciou

hing, and now I’ve done another which fear is worse. On the whole, I think I’

better take him away to the bush. He’d b

safer there.”

“Ye will not, no just now,” declared his

hostess firmly.



Carroll made a sign of resignation. “Oh

well,” he said, “if you say so, I’m quit

willing to stand out and let things alone

Too many cooks are apt to spoil the kail.”

Mrs. Nairn left him, but she afterward

once or twice glanced thoughtfully at Vane

and Evelyn, who had once more drawogether.



CHAPTER XXII—EVELYN GOES

FOR A SAIL.

t was about the middle of the morning an

Vane sat in Nairn’s office. Specimens o

ore lately received from the mine wer

scattered about a table, and Nairn hasome papers in his hand.

“Weel?” he said, when Vane, after

examining two or three of the stoneabruptly flung them down.

“The ore’s running poorer,” Vane

admitted. “On the other hand, I partlexpected this, and there’s better stuff i

he reef. We’re a little too high; I look fo

more encouraging results when we star

he lower heading.”



He went into details of the new operation

and, when he had finished, Nairn, who ha

been jotting down some figures, looke

up.

“Yon workings will cost a good deal,” he

pointed out. “Ye’ll no be able to make a

start until we’re sure of the money.”

“We ought to get it.”

“A month or two ago I would have agreedwith ye, but general investors are kittl

cattle, and the applications for the new

stock are no numerous.”

“The plain English of it is that the mine i

not so popular as it was,” said Vane

mpatiently.



“I’m thinking something of the kind,

airn agreed, and then proceeded with

cautious explanation: “The result of th

first reduction and the way ye forced thconcern on the market secured ye notice

Folks put their money on ye, looking fo

sensational developments, and when th

atter are no forthcoming they feel a bisore.”

“There’s nothing discouraging in ou

accounts. Even if the ore all ran as poor ahat”—Vane pointed to the specimens on

he table—“the mine could be worked o

a paying basis. We have issued no

statements that could spread alarm.”

“Just so,” said Nairn. “What was looke

for was mair than a paying basis—ye hav



no come up to expectations. Forby, it’s my

opinion that damaging reports hav

somehow leaked out from the mine. I se

clouds on the horizon.”

“Bendle pledged himself to take up a bi

block of the shares,” pointed out Vane. “I

Howitson does the same, as he said hwould, our position would be secure. A

soon as it was known that they wer

argely interested, others would follow

hem.”

“Now ye have it in a nutshell—it woul

put a wet blanket on the project if the

both backed down. In the meanwhile w

cannot hurry them.”

Vane rose. “We’ll leave it at that. I’ve



promised to take Mrs. Nairn and Mis

Chisholm for a sail.”

He went out and had got rid of the slighuneasiness the interview had occasione

him before he reached the water-front

where he found Mrs. Nairn and Evely

awaiting him with Carroll in attendancen another few minutes they were rowin

off to the sloop, and as they approache

her the elder lady glanced with approva

at the craft, which swam, a gleaming ivorshape, upon the shining green brine.

“Ye have surely been painting the boat,”

she said. “Was that for us?”

Vane disregarded the last question. “She

wanted it, and paint’s comparativel



cheap.”

t was a little thing, but Evelyn wa

pleased. The girls had not been greatlconsidered at the Dene, and it wa

flattering to recognise that the man ha

hought it worth while to decorate his craf

n her honour. She did not ask herself if hhad wished to please her; he had invite

her for a sail some days ago, and he wa

horough in everything he did. He hande

her and Mrs. Nairn on board and whehey sat down in the well, he and Carrol

proceeded to hoist the mainsail. It looke

exceedingly large as it thrashed an

fluttered above their heads, and ther

seemed to be a bewildering quantity o

ropes, but Evelyn was chiefly interested i

watching Vane.



He was wonderfully quick, but n

movement was wasted. His face wa

ntent, his glances sharp, and she liked th

crisp, curt way in which he spoke tCarroll. The man’s task was, in one sense

not important, but he was absorbed in it

Then, while Carroll slipped the moorings

he ran up the headsails, and springing aftseized the tiller as the boat, slanting over

began to forge through the water. It wa

he first time Evelyn had ever travelle

under sail and, receptive as she was of al

new impressions, she sat silent a few

minutes rejoicing in the sense of swift an

easy motion. The inlet was crisped bsmall white ripples, and the boat with he

boom broad off on her quarter drov

hrough them; a sparkling wedge of foa

on her lee bow and a stream of frot



sluicing past her sides. Overhead, th

great inclined sail cut, sharply white

against the dazzling blue, and close by he

Vane sat gripping the tiller.

They swept out through the gate of th

arrows, and Vane luffed the boat up to a

moderately fresh breeze. “It’s off the landand we’ll have fairly smooth water,” h

explained, and added: “How do you lik

sailing?”

“It’s glorious on a day like this,” sh

declared and looked back towards th

distant snow. “If anything more wer

wanted, there are the mountains, too.”

Vane smiled, but there was a suggestive

sparkle in his eyes. “Yes,” he said; “we



have them both, and that’s something to b

hankful for. The sea and the mountains

he two grandest things in this world.”

“If you think that, how did you reconcil

yourself to the city?”

“I’m not sure I’ve done so.” He indicatehe gleaming heights. “I’m going back up

yonder very soon.”

Mrs. Nairn glanced at Carroll, whaffected to be busy with a rope; then sh

urned to Vane. “It will no be possible

with winter coming on.”

“It’s not really so bad then,” Vane

declared. “Besides, I expect to get m

work done before the hardest weather’



due.”

“But ye cannot leave Vancouver until ye

have settled about the mine.”

“I don’t want to,” Vane admitted. “That’

not quite the same thing.”

“It is with a good many people,” Carrol

nterposed with a smile.

n the meanwhile, they were driving out the southwards, opening up the Strait, wit

he forests to port growing smaller and th

short seas increasing in size. The breez

was cold, but the girl was warmly claand the easy motion in no way trouble

her. The rush of keen salt air stirred he

blood, and all round her were sprea



wonderful harmonies of silver-laced blu

and green, through which the strainin

fabric that carried her swept on. Th

mountains were majestic, but except wheempests lashed their crags or torrent

swept their lower slopes they wer

wrapped in eternal repose; the sea wa

filled with ecstatic motion.

“The hills have their fascination; it’s

hing I know,” she said, to draw th

helmsman out. “I think I should like thsea, too; but at first sight its charm isn’

quite so plain.”

“You have started him,” interposed

Carroll. “He won’t refuse that challenge!”

Vane accepted it with a smile which



meant more than good-humoure

ndulgence. “Well,” he began, “the sea’s

he same everywhere, unbridled

unchanging; a force that remains as it wan the beginning. Once you’re out o

harbour, under sail, you have done wit

civilisation. It has possibly provided yo

with excellent gear, but it can do no moreyou stand alone, stripped for the struggl

with the elements.”

“Is it always a struggle?” Evelyn asked, tprompt him.

“Always. The sea’s as treacherous as th

winds that vex it; pitiless, murderous

When you have only sail to trust to, yo

can never relax your vigilance; you mus

watch the varying drift of clouds and th



swing of the certain tides. There’s nothin

and nobody to fall back upon when th

breeze pipes its challenge; you hav

sloughed off civilisation and must stand ofall by the raw natural powers man is bor

with, and chief among them is the capacit

for brutal labour. The thrashing sail mus

be mastered; the tackle cracking with thstrain must be hauled in. Perhaps that’s th

charm of it for some of us whose lives ar

pretty smooth—it takes one back, as

said, to the beginning.”

“But haven’t human progress an

machines made everybody’s lives mor

smooth?”

Vane laughed somewhat grimly. “Oh, no;

hink that can never be done. So far



somebody pays for the other’s ease. A

sea, in the mine, and in the bush, man stil

grapples with a rugged, naked world.”

The girl was pleased. She had drawn hi

out, and she thought he had in speakin

kept a fair balance between too crude

mode of colloquial expression and poetielaboration. There was, she knew, a vei

of poetic conception in him, and th

struggle he had hinted at could only b

described fittingly in heroic language. Iwas, in one sense, a pity that those wh

had the gift of it and cultivate

magination had, for the most part, neve

been forced into the fight; but that was

perhaps, not a matter of much importance

There were plenty of men, such as he

companion, endowed with endurance



who if they seldom gave their thought

free rein, rejoiced in the struggle; and b

hem the world’s sternest work was done.

“After all,” she said, “we have th

mountains in civilised England.”

Vane did not respond with the samefreedom this time. He was inclined t

hink he had spoken too unrestrainedly.

“Yes,” he agreed, smiling; “you can walkabout them—where you won’t disturb th

grouse—and they’re grand enough; but i

you look down you can see the motor dus

rails and the tourist coaches in thvalleys.”

“But why shouldn’t people enjo



hemselves in that way?”

“I can’t think of any reason. No doubt

most of them have earned the right to dso. But you can’t rip up those hills wit

giant-powder where you feel inclined, o

set to work to root out some miles o

forest. The Government encourages thakind of thing here.”

“And that’s the charm?”

“Yes,” said Vane. “I suppose it is.”

“I’d better explain,” Carroll broke in

“Men of a certain temperament are apt tfall a prey to fantasies in the newer lands

any common sense they once possesse

seems to desert them. After that they’r



never happy, except when they’re rippin

hings—such as big rocks and trees—t

pieces, and though they’ll tell you it’s onl

o get out minerals or clear a ranchhey’re wrong. Once they get the mine o

ranch they don’t care about it, and set t

work wrecking things again. Isn’t that so

Mrs. Nairn?”

“There are such crazy bodies,” agree

he-lady. “I know one or two, but if I had

my way with them they should find onmine, or build one saw-mill.”

“And then,” said Carroll, “you woul

chain them up for good by marrying them.

“I would like to try, but I’m no sure i

would act in every case. I have com



across some women as bad as the men

hey would drive their husbands on

Maybe”—and she smiled in a half-wistfu

manner—“it’s as well to do somethinworth the remembering when ye ar

young. There’s a long time to sit still i

afterwards.”

Half in banter, and half in earnest, they

had given Evelyn a hint of the maste

passion of the true colonist, whose prid

s in his burden. Afterwards, Mrs. Naired the conversation, until Carroll laid ou

n the saloon a somewhat elaborate lunc

which he had brought from the hotel. The

he others went below, leaving Vane at the

helm; and Carroll looked at him ruefull

when they came up again.



“I’m afraid Miss Chisholm’

disappointed,” he explained.

“No,” said Evelyn; “that would be mosungrateful. I only expected a mor

characteristic example of sea cookery

After what Mr. Vane told us, a lunch like

he one you provided, with glass ansilver, struck me as rather a

anachronism.”

“It’s better to be broken in to sea cookerygently,” Vane interposed with some

dryness.

“It’s a poor compliment to take it fogranted that we’re afraid of a littl

hardship. Besides, I don’t think you’r

right.”



Vane, who left the helm to Carroll, wen

below, and the latter smiled at Evelyn.

“He won’t be long,” he informed her. “Hhasn’t got rid of his primitive habits yet.”

Vane came up satisfied in about ten

minutes, and glancing about him before hresumed the helm, noticed that it wa

blowing fresher, but it did no

nconvenience the party, and as they ra

homewards the breeze gradually dieaway. The broad inlet lay still in th

moonlight when they crept across it wit

he water lapping very faintly about th

bows, and it was over a mirror-lik

surface they rowed ashore. Nairn wa

waiting at the foot of the steps, and Evely

walked back with him, feeling, she coul



not tell exactly why, that she had bee

drawn closer to the sloop’s helmsman.



CHAPTER XXIII—VANE PROVES

OBDURATE.

Vane spent two or three weeks very

pleasantly in Vancouver, for Evelyn, o

whom he saw a good deal, was graciou

o him. The embarrassment both had felon their first meeting in the Western city

had speedily vanished; they had resume

heir acquaintance on what was ostensibl

a purely friendly footing, and, since botavoided any reference to what had take

place in England, it had ripened into

mutual confidence.

This would have been less probable in th

older country, where they would hav

been continually reminded of what th

Chisholm family had expected of them; bu



he past seldom counts for much in th

new and changeful West, whose

nhabitants look forward to the future

ndeed, there is something in itatmosphere which banishes regret an

retrospection; and when Evelyn looke

back at all, she felt inclined to wonde

why she had once been so troubled by thman’s satisfaction with her company. She

decided that this could not have been th

result of any aversion from him, and that i

was merely an instinctive revolt agains

he part her parents had wished to forc

upon her. Chisholm and his wife had

blundered as such people often do, for is possible that had they adopted

perfectly neutral attitude everything woul

have gone as they desired.



Their mistake was nevertheless a natura

one. Somewhat exaggerated reports o

Vane’s prosperity had reached them; bu

while they coveted the advantages hiwealth might offer their daughter, in thei

secret hearts they looked upon him a

something of a barbarian, which idea th

opinions he occasionally expressed iheir hearing did not dispel. Both feare

hat Evelyn regarded him in the same light

and it accordingly became evident that

ittle pressure might be required. In spit

of their prejudices, they did not shrin

from applying it.

n the meanwhile, several people i

Vancouver watched the increase o

friendliness between the girl and Vane

Mrs. Nairn and her husband did so wit



benevolent interest, and it was by th

former’s adroit management, whic

Evelyn did not often suspect, that the

were thrown more and more into eacother’s company. Jessie Horsfield

however, looked on with bitterness. Sh

was a strong-willed young woman wh

had hitherto generally contrived to obtaiwhat she had set her heart upon, and sh

had set it upon this man. Indeed, she ha

fancied that he returned the feeling, bu

disillusionment had come on the evenin

when he had unexpectedly met Evelyn

Her resentment against the girl grew

steadily stronger, until it threatened toprove dangerous on opportunity.

There were, however, days when Vane

was disturbed in mind. Winter wa



coming on, and although it is rarely sever

on the southern seaboard, it is by n

means the season one would choose for a

adventure among the ranges of the northerwilderness. Unless he made his search fo

he spruce very shortly, he might b

compelled to postpone it until the spring

at the risk of being forestalled; but therwere two reasons which detained him. H

hought he was gaining ground in Evelyn’

esteem, and he feared the effect o

absence; while there was no doubt that th

new issue of the Clermont shares was i

very slack demand. To leave the city

might cost him a good deal, but he hapledged himself to go.

The latter fact was uppermost in his min

one evening when he set off to call upo



Celia Hartley, and, as it happened, Evely

and Mrs. Nairn were driving past as h

urned off from a busy street towards th

quarter in which she lived. It had beedark some little time, but Evelyn had n

difficulty in recognising him. Indeed, sh

watched him for a few moments while h

passed on into a more shadowy regionwhere the gloom and dilapidation of th

first small frame houses were noticeable

and she wondered what kind of peopl

nhabited it. She did not think Mrs. Nair

had noticed Vane.

“You have never taken me into the distric

on our left,” she said.

“I’m no likely to,” was the answer

“We’re no proud of it.”



“I suppose the Chinese and other alien

ive there,” Evelyn suggested.

“They do,” said Mrs. Nairn with somdryness. “I’m no sure, however, tha

hey’re the worst.”

“But one understands that you haven’t criminal population.”

“We have folks who’re on the fringe of it

only we see they live all together. Peoplwho would be respectable liv

somewhere else, except, a few who hav

o consider cheapness, but it’s no

recommendation to be seen going into yoquarter after dark.”

This left Evelyn thoughtful, since she ha



undoubtedly seen Vane going there. She

considered herself a judge of characte

and generally trusted her intuitions, an

she believed the man’s visit to thneighbourhood in question admitted o

some satisfactory explanation. On th

other hand, she felt that her friends shoul

be beyond suspicion. Taking it all roundshe was rather vexed with Vane, and i

cost her some trouble to drive the matte

out of her mind, though she succeeded i

doing so.

She did not see Vane next day, but the

atter called upon Nairn at his offic

during the afternoon.

“Have you had any more applications fo

he new stock?” he asked.



“I have not,” said Nairn. “Neither Bendl

nor Howiston has paid up yet.”

“Investors are shy; that’s a fact,” Vaneconfessed. “It’s unfortunate. I’ve alread

put off my trip north as long as possible;

wanted to see things on a satisfactor

basis before I went.”

“A prudent wish. I would advise ye to

carry it out.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Something like this: If the money’s no

forthcoming, we may be compelled to falback upon a different plan, and, unles

ye’re to the fore, the decision of

shareholders’ meeting might not suit ye



Considering the position and the stock y

hold, any views ye might express woul

carry mair weight than mine could do i

your absence.”

Vane drummed with his fingers on the

able. “I suppose that’s the case; but I’v

got to make the journey. With moderatelygood fortune it shouldn’t take me long.”

“Ye would be running some risk i

anything delayed ye and we had to call meeting before ye got back.”

“I see that, but it can’t be helped. I expec

o be back before I’m wanted. Anyway, could leave you authority to act on m

behalf.”



After a further attempt to dissuade him

airn spread out one hand resignedly. “H

who will to Cupar maun be left to gang,

he said. “Whiles, I have wondered whany one should be so keen on getting there

but doubtless a douce Scottish town ha

mair attractions for a sensible person tha

he rugged North-West in winter time.”

Vane, who smiled at this, went out and lef

him; and when he reached home Nair

briefly recounted the interview to his wifover his evening meal. Evelyn, who wa

with them, listened attentively.

“Yon man will no hear reason,” Nairn

concluded. “He’s thrawn.”

Evelyn had already noticed that her host



for whom she had a strong liking, spok

broader Scots when he was either amuse

or angry, and she supposed that Vane’s

determination disturbed him.

“But why should he persist in leaving th

city, when it’s to his disadvantage to do

so, as you lead one to believe it is?” shasked.

“If the latter’s no absolutely certain, it’

very likely,” Nairn informed her.

“You have only answered half my

question,” Evelyn pointed out.

Mrs. Nairn smiled. “Alec,” she said, “i

reserved by nature, but if ye’re anxious fo

an answer I might tell ye.”



“Anxious hardly describes it,” Evely

replied.

“Then we’ll say curious. The fact is, Vanemade a bargain with a sick prospector, in

which he undertook to locate some timbe

he man had discovered away among th

mountains. He was to pay the other a sharof its value when he got his Governmen

icence.”

“Is the timber very valuable?”

“No,” broke in Nairn. “One might make

fair business profit out of pulping it

hough the thing’s far from certain.”

“Then why is Mr. Vane so keen on finding

t?”



The question gave Mrs. Nairn a lead, bu

she decided to say no more than wa

necessary. “The prospector died, but tha

bound the bargain tighter, in Vane’sopinion. The man died without a dollar

eaving a daughter worn-out and ill wit

nursing him. According to th

arrangement, his share will go to the girl.”

“Then,” said Evelyn, “Mr. Vane is really

undertaking the search in order to keep hi

promise to a man who is dead; and he wilnot even postpone it, because if he did s

his penniless girl might, perhaps, lose he

share? Isn’t that rather fine of him?”

“On the whole, ye understand th

position,” Nairn agreed, “If ye desire m

view of the matter, I would merely sa



hat yon’s the kind of man he is.”

Evelyn made no further comment, thoug

he last common phrase struck her as most eloquent tribute. She had heard Vane

confess that he did not want to go north a

present, and she now understood that to d

so might jeopardise his interests in thmine; but he was undoubtedly going. H

meant to keep his promise—this was wha

one would expect of him.

As it happened, he took her for a driv

among the Stanley pines one mil

afternoon a few days later, and though sh

knew she would regret his departure sh

was unusually friendly. Vane rejoiced a

t, but he had already decided that he mus

endeavour to proceed with caution an



content himself in the meanwhile with th

part of trusted companion. For this reason

he chatted lightly, which he felt was safer

during most of the drive, but he once owice responded without reserve when, b

chance or design, she asked a leadin

question.

“I wonder if you ever feel any regret a

having left England for this country,” sh

said.

“I did so pretty often when I first cam

out,” he answered. “In those days, I had t

work in icy water, and carry massiv

umps of rock.”

“I dare say regret was a very natura

feeling then; but that wasn’t quite what



meant.”

“So I supposed,” Vane confessed. “Well

’d better own that when I spent a week owo in England—at the Dene—I began t

hink I missed a good deal by not stayin

at home. It struck me that the life you le

had a singular charm. Everything went ssmoothly there among the sheltering hills

One felt that care and anxiety could no

creep in. Somehow the place reminded m

of Avalon.”

“The impression was by no mean

correct,” said Evelyn. “But I don’t thin

you have finished. Won’t you go on?”

“Then if I get out of my depth you mustn

blame me. By and by I discovered tha



charm wasn’t the right word—the plac

was permeated with a narcotic spell.”

“Narcotic?” said Evelyn. “Do you thinhe term’s more appropriate?”

“I do,” Vane declared, “Narcotics, one

understands, are insidious things. If yoake them regularly, in small doses, the

ncrease their hold on you, until yo

become wrapped up in dreams an

unrealities. If, however, you get too big dose at the beginning, it leads to

vigorous revulsion. It’s nature’s warning

and remedy.”

“You’re not flattering,” said Evelyn. “Bu

almost fancy you are right.”



“We are told that man was made to

struggle; to use all his powers. If he rest

oo long beside the still backwaters of lif

n fairylike dales, they’re apt to atrophyand he finds himself slack and nerveles

when he goes out to face the world again.

Evelyn nodded, for she had felt anstriven against the insidious influence h

spoke of. She had now and then left th

drowsy dale for a while; but the life sh

had then caught glimpses of was equallsheltered, one possible only to th

favoured few. Even the echoes of the rea

ense struggle seldom passed it

boundaries.

“But you confessed not long ago that yo

oved the Western wilderness,” she said



“You have spent a good deal of time in it

you expect to do so again. After all, isn’

hat only exchanging one beautifu

ranquil region for another? The bush musbe even quieter than the English dales.”

“I expect I haven’t made the point quit

clear. When one goes up into the bush it’not to lounge and dream there, but to mak

war upon it with the axe and drill.” H

pulled up his team and pointed to a clum

of giant trees. “Look here. That’s Nature’challenge to man in this country.”

Evelyn confessed that it was a ver

mpressive one. The great trunks ran u

far aloft, tremendous columns, before thei

higher portions were lost in the vaulte

roof of sombre greenery. They dwarfed



he rig and team; she felt herself a pigm

by comparison.

“They’re rather bigger than the average,her companion resumed. “Still, that’s th

kind of thing you run up against when yo

buy land to make a ranch of or clear th

ground for a mine. Chopping, sawing upsplitting those giants doesn’t fill one wit

anguorous dreams; the only ones our axe

men indulge in materialise. It’s a bracin

struggle. There are leagues and leagues orees, shrouding the valleys in a shadow

hat has lasted since the world was young

but you see the dawn of a wonderful futur

breaking in as the long ranks go down.”

Once more, without clearly intending it, h

had stirred the girl. He had not spoken i



hat rather fanciful style to impress her

she thought he had, trusting in he

comprehension, merely given his idea

free rein. But in doing so he had somehowmade her hear the clear trumpet-call t

action, which, for such men, rings throug

he roar of the river and the song of the tal

black pines.

“Ah!” she said, “I dare say it’s a fine lif

n many ways, but it must have it

drawbacks. The flesh must shrink frohem.”

“The flesh?” he said and laughed. “In thi

and it takes second place—except

perhaps, in the cities.” Then he turned an

ooked at her curiously. “Why should yo

alk of shrinking? The bush couldn’t daun



you; you have courage.”

The girl’s eyes sparkled, but it was not a

he compliment. His words rang witfreedom, the freedom of the heights, wher

heroic effort was the rule in place o

uxury. She longed now, as she had often

done, to escape from bondage, to breaaway.

“Ah, well,” she said, half-wistfully, “

expect it’s fortunate that such courage as have may never be put to the test.”

Though reticence was difficult, Vane

made no comment. He had spokeunguardedly already, and he had decided

hat caution was desirable. As i

happened, an automobile came up when h



restarted his team, and he looked round a

he drove on again.

“It’s curious that I never heard the thing,he said.

“I didn’t either,” said Evelyn, and added

as if any explanation were needed: “I waoo engrossed in the trees. But I think Mis

Horsfield was in it.”

“Was she?” said Vane in a very casuamanner, and Evelyn, for no reason that sh

was willing to admit, was pleased.

She had not been mistaken. JessiHorsfield was in the automobile, and sh

had had a few moments in which to stud

Vane and his companion. The man’s look



and the girl’s expression had struck her a

significant; and her lips set ominousl

ight as the car sped on. She felt sh

almost hated Vane, and there was no doubhat she entirely hated the girl at his side.



CHAPTER XXIV—JESSIE STRIKES

t was the afternoon before Vane’

departure for the north, and Evelyn, sittin

alone for the time being in Mrs. Nairn’

drawing-room, felt disturbed by th

hought of it. She sympathised with hi

object, but she supposed there was

certain risk attached to the journey, and

hat troubled her. In addition to this ther

was another point on which she was noaltogether pleased. She had twice see

Vane acknowledge a bow from a very

pretty girl whose general appearanc

suggested that she did not belong tEvelyn’s own walk of life, and that very

morning she had noticed him crossing

street in the young woman’s company

Vane, as it happened, had met Kitty Blake



by accident and had asked her t

accompany him on a visit to Celia.

Evelyn did not think she was of a jealoudisposition, and jealousy appeare

rrational in the case of a man whom sh

had dismissed as a suitor; but the thin

rankled in her mind. While she consideret, Jessie Horsfield entered the room.

“I’m here by invitation, to join Vane’

other old friends in giving him a goosend-off,” she explained.

Evelyn noticed that Jessie laid some stres

upon her acquaintance with Vane, andwondered if she had any motive for doin

so.



“I suppose you have known him for som

ime,” she said.

“Oh, yes,” was the careless answer. “Mybrother was one of the first to take him u

when he came to Vancouver.”

The phrase jarred on Evelyn. It savoureof patronage; besides, she did not like t

hink that Vane owed anything to the

Horsfields.

“Though I don’t know much about it,

understood they were opposed to eac

other,” she said coldly.

“Their business interests don’t coincide

but it doesn’t follow that they shoul

disagree about anything else. My brothe



did all he could to dissuade Vane from

going on with his search for the timbe

until the winter was over.”

“I think it is rather fine of him to persist i

t,” Evelyn declared.

Jessie smiled, though she felt venomouust then. “Yes,” she agreed; “one

undoubtedly feels that. Besides, the thing’

so characteristic of him; the man’

mpulsively generous and not easildaunted. He possesses many of th

rudimentary virtues, as well as some o

he corresponding weaknesses, which i

very much what one would look for.”

“What do you mean by that?” Evely

nquired, suppressing her resentmen



Though she was not prepared to pose a

Vane’s advocate, she was conscious of a

growing antagonism against he

companion.

“It’s difficult to explain, and I don’t know

hat the subject’s worth discussing,” said

Jessie. “However, what I think I meanwas this—Vane’s of a type that’s no

uncommon in the West, and it’s a type one

finds interesting. He’s forcibl

elementary, which is the only way I caexpress it; the restraints the rest of u

submit to don’t bind him; he break

hrough them.”

This, so Evelyn fancied, was more or les

correct. Indeed, the man’s disregard o

hampering customs had pleased her, bu



she allowed that some restraints wer

needful. As it happened, her companio

followed up the same train of thought.

“When one breaks down or gets ove

fences, it’s necessary to discriminate,” sh

went on lightly. “Men of the Berserke

ype, however, are more addicted to goinstraight through the lot. In a way, they’r

consistent—having smashed one barrier

why should they respect the next?”

Jessie, as she was quite aware, wa

playing a dangerous game; one that migh

afterwards be exposed. Still, the latte

possibility was of less account becaus

detection would come too late if she wer

successful. She was acquainted with th

salient points of Evelyn’s character.



“They’re consistent, if not always ver

ogical,” she concluded after a pause

“One endeavours to make allowances fo

men of that description.”

Something in her tone roused Evelyn t

sudden imperious anger. It was intolerabl

hat this woman should offer excuses foVane.

“What particular allowances do you feel i

needful to make in Mr. Vane’s case?” sheasked.

ow she was faced by the direct question

Jessie hesitated. As a rule, she was subtlebut she could be ruthlessly frank, and sh

was possessed by a hatred of the gir

beside her.



“You have forced me to an explanation,”

she expostulated. “The fact is that whil

he has a room at the hotel he has an—

establishment—in a differenneighbourhood. Unfortunately, what yo

could best describe as a Latin quarter is

feature of some Western towns.”

t was a shock to Evelyn; one she found i

hard to face, though she was no

convinced. The last piece of informatio

agreed with something Mrs. Nairn haold her; but although she had on on

occasion had the testimony of her eyes i

support of it, Jessie’s first statemen

sounded incredible.

“It’s impossible,” she declared.



Jessie smiled in a bitter manner. “It’

unpleasant, but it can’t be denied. H

undoubtedly pays the rent of a shack in th

neighbourhood I mentioned.”

Evelyn sat tensely still for a moment o

wo. She dared not give rein to he

feelings, she would not betray herself; bucomposure was extremely difficult.

“If that is so, how is it that he is receive

everywhere—at your house and bMrs. Nairn?” she asked.

Jessie shrugged her shoulders. “People i

general are the more or less charitable ihe case of a successful man. Apart fro

hat, Mr. Vane has a good many excellen

qualities. As I said, one has to mak



allowances.”

Just then, to Evelyn’s relief, Mrs. Nair

came in, and though the girl suffereduring the time, it was half an hour befor

she could find an excuse for slipping awa

alone. Then, sitting in the gatherin

darkness, in her own room, she set herselo consider, as dispassionately a

possible, what she had heard. It wa

exceedingly difficult to believe the charge

but Jessie’s assertion was definite enoughand one which, if incorrect, could b

readily disproved. Nobody would sa

such a thing unless it could b

substantiated, and that led Evelyn t

consider why Jessie had given her th

nformation. She had obviously done s

with at least a trace of malice; but thi



could hardly have sprung from jealousy

because Evelyn could not think that

woman would vilify a man for whom sh

had any tenderness. Besides, she had seeVane entering the part of the town

ndicated, where he could not have ha

any legitimate business. Hateful as th

suspicion was, it could not bcontemptuously dismissed. Then sh

granted that she had no right to censure th

man; he was not accountable to her for hi

conduct; but calm reasoning carried her n

farther. She was once more filled wit

ntolerable disgust and burnin

ndignation. Somehow she had come tbelieve in Vane, and he had turned out an

mpostor.

t was about an hour later when Vane and



Carroll entered the house with Nairn an

proceeded to the latter’s room, where h

offered them cigars.

“So ye’re all ready to sail the morn?” h

said.

Vane, who nodded, handed him somepapers. “There’s your authority to act i

my name if it’s required. I expect to b

back before there’s much change in th

situation; but I’ll call at Nanaimo, wheryou can wire me if anything turns up

during the three days it may take us to ge

here.”

“I suppose there’s no use in my sayin

anything more now; but I can’t hel

pointing out that, as head of the concern



you have a certain duty to the shareholder

which you seem inclined to disregard,

Carroll remarked.

“I’ve no doubt their interests will be a

safe in Nairn’s hands as in mine,” Vane

rejoined.

“I fail to see why ye could no have let th

whole thing stand over until the spring,

said Nairn. “The spruce winna run away.”

“I’d have done so had it been a few year

earlier, but the whole country is overrun

with mineral prospectors and timber

righters now. Every month’s delay givesomebody else a chance of getting i

ahead of me.”



“Weel,” said Nairn resignedly. “I can onl

wish ye luck, but should ye be detained u

yonder, if one of ye could sail across to

Comox to see if there’s any mail there, iwould be wise to do so.” He waved hi

hand. “No more of that; we’ll conside

what tactics I had better adopt in case o

delay.”

An hour had passed before they wen

down to join the guests who were arrivin

for the evening meal. As a rule, thWestern business man, who is more o

ess engrossed in his occupation, excep

when he is asleep, enjoys little privacy

and his friends sometimes compare

airn’s dwelling to the rotunda of a

hotel. The point of this was that people o

all descriptions who have nothing better t



do are addicted to strolling into th

combined bazaar and lounge which i

attached to many Canadian hostelries.

As it happened, Vane sat next to Evelyn a

able; but after a quiet reply to his firs

observation, she turned and talked to th

man on her other side. Since the latterwho was elderly and dull, had only tw

opics—the most efficient means o

desiccating fruit and the lack of railroa

facilities—Vane was somewhaastonished that she appeared interested i

his conversation, and by and by he trie

again. He was not more successful thi

ime, and his face grew warm as h

realised that Evelyn was not inclined t

alk to him. Being a very ordinary morta

and not particularly patient, he wa



sensible of some indignation, which wa

not diminished when, on looking round

Jessie Horsfield, who sat opposite

favoured him with a compassionate smileHe took his part in the genera

conversation, however, and the meal wa

over and the guests were scattered abou

he adjoining rooms, when, aftempatiently waiting for the opportunity, h

found Evelyn alone. She was standin

with one hand on a table, looking rathe

houghtful.

“I’ve come to ask what I’ve done,” h

began.

Evelyn, who was not prepared for thi

blunt directness, felt disconcerted, but sh

broke into a chilly smile.



“The question’s rather indefinite, isn’t it?

she said. “Do you expect me to b

acquainted with all your recent actions?”

“Then I’ll put the thing in another way—

do you mind telling me how I hav

offended you?”

The girl almost wished that she could d

so. Appearances were badly against him

but she felt that if he declared himsel

nnocent she could take his word in thface of overwhelming testimony to th

contrary, Unfortunately, however, it wa

unthinkable that she should plainly stat

he charge.

“Do you suppose I should feel warrante

n forming any opinion upon you



conduct?” she retorted.

“But you have formed one, and it isn’

favourable.”

The girl hesitated a moment, but she ha

he courage of her convictions, and sh

felt impelled to make some protest.

“That,” she said, looking him in the eyes

“is perfectly true.”

He looked more puzzled than guilty, and

once more she chafed against the fact tha

she could give him no opportunity o

defending himself.

“Well,” he said, “I’m sorry; but it bring

us back to my first question.”



The situation was becoming painful a

well as embarrassing, and Evelyn

perhaps unreasonably, grew more angry

with the man.

“I’m afraid,” she said “you are eithe

clever at dissembling or have n

magination.”

Vane held himself in hand with an effort

“I dare say you’re right on the latte

point,” he informed her. “It’s a fact I’msometimes thankful for. It leaves one mor

free to go straight ahead. Now, as I see th

dried-fruit man coming in search of you

and you evidently don’t mean to answe

me, I can’t urge the matter.”

He turned away and left her wonderin



why he had abandoned his usua

persistency, unless it was that an uneas

conscience had driven him from the field

t did not occur to her that the man hadunder strong provocation, merely yielde

o the prompting of a somewhat hast

emper. In the meanwhile, he crossed th

room in an absent-minded manner, andpresently found himself near Jessie, wh

made room for him at her side.

“It looks as if you were in disgrace tonight,” she said, and waited wit

concealed impatience for his answer. I

Evelyn had been clever or bold enough t

give him a hint as to what he wa

suspected of, Jessie foresaw undesirabl

complications.



“I think I am,” he owned withou

reflection. “The trouble is, that while

may deserve it on general grounds, I’

unconscious of having done anything verreprehensible in particular.”

Jessie was sensible of considerable relie

The man was sore and resentful; he woulnot press Evelyn for an explanation, an

he breach would widen. In the meanwhil

she must play her cards skilfully.

“Then that fact should sustain you,” sh

rejoined. “We shall miss you after to

morrow; more than one of us. Of course

t’s too late to tell you that you were no

altogether wise in resolving to go.”

“Everybody has been telling me the sam



hing for the last few weeks,” Vane

nformed her.

“Then I’ll only wish you every successt’s a pity Bendle and the other ma

haven’t paid up yet.”

She met his surprised look with aengaging smile. “You needn’t be

astonished. There’s not very much goes on

n the city that I don’t hear about—yo

know how men talk business here; and it’nteresting to look on, even when on

can’t actually take a hand in the game. It’

said the watchers sometimes see most o

t.”

“To tell the truth, it’s the uncertainty as to

what those two men might do that has bee



chiefly worrying me.”

“I believe I understand the position

hey’ve been hanging fire, haven’t theyBut I’ve reasons for believing they’l

come to a decision before very long.”

Vane looked troubled, “That’s interestingbut I ought to warn you that your brothe

—-”

“I’ve no intention of giving him awayand, as a matter of fact, I think you are

ittle prejudiced against him. After all

he’s not your greatest danger. There’s a

cabal against you among youshareholders.”

She knew by the way he looked at her tha





Vane reflected hastily. Jessie, as she had

old him, had opportunities of picking u

valuable information about the busines

done in that city, and he had confidence iher.

“Thank you,” he said. “It will be th

second service you have done me, and appreciate it. Anyway, I promised Nairn

’d call at Nanaimo, in there was a wir

from him.”

“It’s a bargain, and now we’ll talk o

something else,” said Jessie, and she drew

him into an exchange of badinage, unti

noticing that Evelyn once or twice glance

at her with some astonishment sh

presently got rid of him. She coul

understand Evelyn’s attitude and did no



wish her friendliness with the offender t

appear unnatural after what she had sai

about him.

At length the guests began to leave, bu

most of them had gone when Vane rose to

ake his departure. His host and hostes

went with him to the door, but though honce or twice glanced round eagerly, ther

was no sign of Evelyn. He lingered a few

moments on the threshold after Mrs. Nair

had given him a kindly send-off; bunobody appeared in the lighted hall, an

after another word with Nairn he wen

moodily down the steps to join Jessie an

Carroll, who were waiting for him below

As the group walked down the garde

path, Mrs. Nairn looked at her husband.



“I do not know what has come ove

Evelyn this night,” she remarked.

airn followed Jessie’s retreating figurwith distrustful eyes. “Weel,” he said

“I’m thinking yon besom may have had

hand in the thing.”

Then he turned, and they went in.

A few minutes later, Jessie, standing

where the light of a big lamp streamedown upon her through the boughs of

eafless maple, bade Vane farewell at he

brother’s gate.

“If my good wishes can bring you success

t will most certainly be yours,” she said

and there was something in her voic





knew when to stop. The man had given he

his full confidence.



CHAPTER XXV—THE

INTERCEPTED LETTER.

The wind was fresh from the north-wes

when Vane drove the sloop out through the

arrows in the early dawn and saw a di

stretch of white-flecked sea in front ohim. Landlocked as they are by Vancouve

sland, the long roll of the Pacific canno

enter those waters; but they are now an

hen lashed into short, tumbling seassufficient to make their passage difficul

for a craft no larger than the sloop. Carrol

frowned when a comber struck th

weather bow and a shower of stinginspray whipped his face.

“Right ahead again,” he remarked. “But a

suppose you’re going on, we’d bette



stretch straight across on the starboar

ack; we’ll get smoother water along th

sland shore.”

They let her go, and Vane sat at the helm

hour after hour, drenched with spray

hammering her mercilessly into the froth

seas. They could have done with a seconreef down, for the deck was swept an

sluicing, and most of the time the lee rai

was buried deep in rushing foam; but Van

showed no intention of shortening saior did Carroll, who saw that hi

comrade was disturbed in temper, sugges

t: resolute action had, he knew, a soothin

effect on Vane. As a matter of fact, the

atter needed soothing. Of late, he had fel

hat he was making steady progress i

Evelyn’s favour, and now she had mos



unexplainably turned against him; but, rac

his brain as he would, he could no

discover the reason. That he wa

conscious of no offence only made thposition more galling.

n the meanwhile, the boat engrossed mor

and more of his attention. It was a relief tdrive her hard at some white-topped sea

and watch her bows disappear in it with

hud, while it somehow eased his mind t

see the smashed-up brine fly half thheight of her drenched mainsail. Ther

was also satisfaction in feeling the strai

on the tiller when, swayed down by

fiercer gust, she plunged through th

combers with the froth swirling

perilously close to the coaming, along he

half-submerged deck.



The day was cold; the man, who wa

compelled to sit almost still in a nippin

wind, was soon wet through, but this i

some curious way further tended to restorhis accustomed optimism and good

humour. He had partly recovered both

when, as the sloop drove through th

whiter turmoil whipped up by a viciousquall, there was a crash forward.

“Down helm!” shouted Carroll. “Th

bobstay’s gone.”

He scrambled towards the bowsprit

which, having lost its principal support

swayed upward, in peril of being tor

away by the sagging jib. Vane, who firs

rounded up the boat into the wind

followed him; and for several minute



hey had a struggle with the madly

flapping sail, before they flung it, bundle

up, into the well. Then they ran in th

bowsprit, and Vane felt glad that, althoughhe craft had been rigged in the usua

Western fashion, he had changed that by

giving her a couple of headsails in plac

of one.

“She’ll trim with the staysail, if we hau

another reef down,” he said.

t cost them some labour, but they wer

warmer afterwards, and when they wen

on again Vane glanced at the bowsprit.

“We’ll try to get a bit of galvanised stee

n Nanaimo,” he said. “I can’t risk anothe

smash.”



“You had better be prepared for one, i

you mean to drive her as you have bee

doing.” Carroll flung back the saloo

scuttle. “You’d have swamped her inanother hour or two; the cabin flooring

are all awash.”

“Then hadn’t you better pump her out?retorted Vane. “After that, you can ligh

he stove. It’s beginning to dawn on m

hat it’s a long while since I had anythin

o eat.”

By and by they made a bountiful i

somewhat primitive meal, in turn, sittin

n the dripping saloon, which was partl

filled with smoke, and Carroll sighed fo

he comforts he had abandoned. He di

not, however, mention his regrets, becaus



he did not expect his comrade’s sympathy

The craft, being under reduced sail, drov

along more easily during the rest of thafternoon, and they ran into a littl

colliery town on the following day. Ther

Vane replaced the broken bobstay with a

solid piece of steel, and then sat down twrite a letter, while Carroll stretched hi

cramped limbs ashore.

The letter was addressed to Evelyn, anhe found it difficult to express himself a

he desired. The spoken word, as he ha

discovered, is now and then awkward t

use, but the written one is more evasiv

still, and he shook his head ruefully ove

he production when he laid down his pen

This was, perhaps, unnecessary, for



having grown calm, he had framed a ters

and forcible appeal to the girl’s sense o

ustice, which would in all probabilit

have had its effect on her had she receivet. Though he hardly realised it, the few

simple words were convincing.

Having received no news from Nairn oJessie, they sailed again in a day or two

bound for Comox, farther along the coas

where there was a possibility o

communications overtaking them; but ihe meanwhile matters which concerne

hem were moving forward in Vancouver.

t was rather early one afternoon whe

Jessie called upon a friend of hers an

found her alone. Mrs. Bendle was a youn

and impulsive woman from one of th



eastern cities, and she had not made man

friends in Vancouver yet, though he

husband, whom she had lately married

was a man of some importance there.

“I’m glad to see you,” she said, greetin

Jessie eagerly. “It’s a week since anybody

has been in to talk to me and Tom’s awayagain.”

Jessie made herself comfortable in a

easy-chair, before she referred to one oher companion’s remarks.

“Where has Mr. Bendle gone now?” sh

asked.

“Into the bush to look at a mine. He lef

his morning, and it will be a week befor



he’s back. Then he’s going across the

Selkirks with that Clavering man abou

some irrigation scheme.”

This suggested one or two questions

which Jessie desired to ask, but she di

not frame them immediately. “It must b

dull for you,” she said sympathetically.

“I don’t mean to complain,” he

companion informed her. “Tom’s

reasonable; the last time I said anythinabout being left alone he bought me th

pair of ponies.”

“You’re fortunate in several ways; thereare not a great many people who can mak

such presents. But while everybody know

how your husband has been successfu



ately, I’m a little surprised that he’s able

o go into Clavering’s irrigation scheme

t’s an expensive one; but I understand

hey intend to confine it to a few, whichmeans that those interested will have t

subscribe handsomely.”

“Tom,” said her companion, “likes tohave a number of different things in hand

He told me it was wiser when I said

couldn’t tell my friends back East what h

really is, because he seemed to beverything at once. But your brother’

nterested in a good many things too, isn’

he?”

“I believe so,” answered Jessie. “Stil

’m pretty sure he couldn’t afford to joi

Clavering and at the same time take up



big block of shares in Mr. Vane’s mine.”

“But Tom isn’t going to do the latte

now.”

Jessie was almost startled; this wa

valuable information which she coul

scarcely have expected to obtain seasily. There was more she desired to

ascertain, but she had no intention o

making any obvious inquiries.

“It’s generally understood that Mr. Vane

and your husband are on good terms,” sh

said. “You know him, don’t you?”

“I’ve met him at one or two places, and

ike him, but when I mention him, Tom

smiles. He says it’s unfortunate Mr. Vane



can only see one thing at once, and that th

one which lies right in front of his eyes

For all that I’ve heard him own that th

man is likeable.”

“Then it’s a pity he’s unable to stand by

him now.”

“I really believe Tom was half sorry he

couldn’t do so last night. He sai

something that suggested it. I don’

understand much about these matters, buHowitson was here, talking business, unti

ate.”

Jessie was satisfied. Her hostess’previous incautious admission had gone

ong way, but to this was added th

significant information that Bendle wa



nclined to be sorry for Vane. The fact tha

he and Howitson had decided on som

oint action after a long private discussio

mplied that there was trouble in store fohe absent man, unless he could b

summoned to deal with the crisis i

person. Jessie wondered if Nairn knew

anything about the matter yet, and decidehat she would try to sound him. In th

meanwhile, she led her companion awa

from the subject, and they discusse

millinery and such matters until she too

her departure.

t was early in the evening when sh

reached Nairn’s house, which she had

hought it better to arrive at a little befor

he came home, and was told tha

Mrs. Nairn and Miss Chisholm were ou



but were expected back shortly. Evely

had been by no means cordial to her sinc

heir last interview, and Mrs. Nairn’

manner had been colder; but Jessidecided to wait, and for the second tim

hat day fortune seemed to play into he

hands.

t was dark outside, but the entrance hal

was brightly lighted, and she could se

nto it from where she sat. Highly-traine

domestics are generally scarce in thWest, and the maid had left the door of the

room open. By and by there was a knoc

at the outer door and a young lad came i

with some letters in his hand. H

explained to the maid that he had been t

he post office and had brought hi

employer’s private mail. Then h



withdrew, and the maid, who first laid th

etters carelessly on a little table, als

retired, banging a door behind her. Th

concussion shook down the letters, anseveral, fluttering forward with the sudde

draught, fell near the threshold of th

room. Jessie rose to replace them.

When she reached the door, she stopped

abruptly, for she recognised the writing on

one envelope. There was no doubt it wa

from Vane, and she noticed that it waaddressed to Miss Chisholm. Jessi

picked it up, and when she had laid th

others upon the table stood with it in he

hand.

“Has the man no pride?” she said, hal

aloud.



Then she looked about her, listening

greatly tempted, and considering. Ther

was no sound in the house; Evelyn an

Mrs. Nairn were out, and she was cut offrom its other occupants by a closed door

obody would know that she had entere

he hall, and if the letter wer

subsequently missed it would be unlikelhat any question regarding it

disappearance would ever be asked. I

here was no response from Evelyn, Vane

she thought, would not renew his appea

Jessie had no doubt that the lette

contained an appeal of some kind, whic

might lead to a reconciliation, and shknew that silence is often more potent tha

an outbreak of anger. She had only to

destroy the letter, and the breach betwee

he two people whom she desired t



separate would widen automatically.

There was little risk of detection, bu

standing tensely still, with set lips and heheart beating faster than usual, she shran

from the decisive action. She could stil

replace the letter, and look for othe

means of bringing about what she wishedShe was self-willed, and endowed wit

few troublesome principles, but until sh

had poisoned Evelyn’s mind against Vane

she had never done anything flagrantldishonourable. Then, while she waited

rresolute, a fresh temptation seized her i

he shape of a burning desire to learn wha

he man had to say. He would reveal hi

feelings in the message, and she coul

udge the strength of her rival’s influenc

over him.



Yet she hesitated, with a half-instinctive

recognition of the fact that the decision sh

must make was an eventful one. She ha

ransgressed grievously in one recennterview with Evelyn, but, while she ha

no idea of making reparation, she could, a

east, stop short of a second offence. Sh

had perhaps, not gone too far yet, but ishe ventured a little farther, she might b

driven on against her will and becom

nextricably involved in an entanglemen

of dishonourable treachery.

The issue hung in the balance—th

slightest thing would have turned the scal

—when she heard footsteps outside an

he tinkle of a bell. Moving with a start

she slipped back into the room just befor

he maid opened the adjacent door. I



another moment or two, she thrust th

envelope inside her dress, and gathere

her composure as Mrs. Nairn and Evely

entered the hall. The former approachehe table and turned over the handful o

etters.

“Two for ye from England, Evelyn, andone or two for me,” she said, and, a

Jessie noticed, flashed a quick glance a

her companion. “Nothing else,” sh

added. “I had thought Vane would maybesend a bit note from one of the Island port

o say how he was getting on.”

Then Jessie rose to greet her hostess. Th

question was decided; it was too late t

replace the letter now. She could no

remember what they talked about durin



he next half-hour, but she took her par

until Nairn came in, and contrived to hav

a word with him before leaving

Mrs. Nairn had gone out to give somnstructions about supper and, whe

Evelyn followed her, Jessie turned to

airn.

“Mr. Vane would be at Comox now,” she

said. “Have you any idea of recallin

him? Of course, I know a little about th

Clermont affairs.”

airn glanced at her with thoughtful eyes

“I’m no acquainted with any reason tha

would render such a course necessary.”

Evelyn reappeared shortly after this, an

on the whole Jessie was glad of it, but sh



excused herself from staying for th

evening meal, and walked home thinkin

hard. It was needful that Vane should be

recalled, and though he had written tEvelyn, she still meant to send him word

He would be grateful to her, and

ndignant and wounded as she was, sh

would not own herself beaten. She woulwarn the man, and afterwards, perhap

allow Nairn to send him a secon

message.

On reaching her brother’s house she wen

straight to her own room and tore open th

envelope. The colour receded from he

face as she read, and sinking into a chai

she sat still with hands clenched. Th

message was terse, but it was stirringl

candid, and even where the man did no



fully reveal his feelings in his words sh

could read between the lines. There wa

no doubt that he had given his hear

unreservedly into her rival’s keeping.

For a while she sat still, and then

stooping swiftly, seized the letter, which

she had dropped, and rent it intfragments. Her eyes had grown hard an

cruel; love of the only kind she wa

capable of had suddenly turned to hate

What was more, it was a hate that coulbe gratified.

A little later, Horsfield came in, and

hough she was very composed now, sh

noticed that he looked at her in an unusua

manner once or twice during the meal tha

followed.



“You make me feel you have something on

your mind,” she said at length.

“That’s a fact,” Horsfield confessed. Thman was attached to and rather proud o

his sister.

“Well?”

Horsfield leaned forward confidentially

“See here,” he said, “I’ve alway

magined that you would go far, and I’anxious to see you do so. I wouldn’t lik

you to throw yourself away.”

His sister could take a hint, but there wanformation she desired, and the man wa

speaking with unusual reserve.

“Oh!” she said, with a slight show o



mpatience, “you must be plainer.”

“Then you have seen a good deal of Vane

and, in case you have any hankering aftehis scalp, I think I’d better mention tha

here’s reason to believe he won’t b

worth powder and shot before very long.”

“Ah!” said Jessie, with a calmness whic

was difficult to assume, “you may as wel

understand that there is nothing betwee

Vane and me. I suppose you mean thaHowitson and Bendle are turning agains

him?”

“Something like that,” Horsfield agreed ia tone which implied that her answer ha

afforded him relief. “The man has troubl

n front of him.”



Jessie changed the subject. What she ha

gathered from Mrs. Bendle was full

confirmed, but she had made up her mind

Evelyn’s lover might wait for the warninwhich could save him, but he should wai

n vain.



CHAPTER XXVI—ON THE TRAIL.

t was a long, wet sail up the coast wit

he wind ahead, and Carroll was content

when, on reaching Comox, Vane

announced his intention of stopping ther

until the mail came in. Immediately afte

ts arrival, Carroll went ashore, and cam

back empty-handed.

“Nothing,” he said. “Personally, I’pleased. Nairn could have advised us her

f there had been any strikin

developments since we left the las

place.”

“I wasn’t expecting to hear from him,

Vane replied.



Carroll read keen disappointment in hi

face, and was not surprised, although th

absence of any message meant that it wa

safe for them to go on with their projectwhich should have afforded hi

companion satisfaction.

They got off shortly afterwards and stooout to the northwards.

Most of that day and the next two the

drifted with the tides through narrowinwaters, though now and then for a few

hours they were wafted on by light an

fickle winds. At length they crept into th

nlet where they had landed on th

previous voyage, and on the morning afte

heir arrival set out on the march. Ther

was on this occasion reason to expec



more rigorous weather, and the load eac

carried was an almost crushing one

Where the trees were thinner, the ground

was frozen hard, and even in the densesbush the undergrowth was white and stif

with frost, while, when they could se

aloft through some chance opening,

forbidding grey sky hung over them.

On approaching the rift in the hillsid

which he had glanced at when they firs

passed that way, Vane stopped a moment.

“I looked into that place before, but i

didn’t seem worth while to follow it up,

he said. “If you’ll wait, I’ll go a littl

farther along it.”

Though the air was nipping, Carroll, wh



was breathless, was content to remai

where he was, and he spent some tim

sitting upon a log before a faint shou

reached him. Then he rose, and making hiway up the hollow, found his comrad

standing upon a jutting ledge.

“I thought you were never coming,” thatter remarked. “Climb up; I’v

something to show you.”

Carroll joined him with difficulty, andVane stretched out his hand.

“Look yonder,” he said.

Carroll looked and started. They stood i

a rocky gateway with a river brawlin

down the chasm beneath them; but a valle



opened up in front. Filled with sombr

forest, it ran back almost straight betwee

stupendous walls of hills.

“It answers Hartley’s description,” h

said. “After all, I don’t think it’

extraordinary we should have taken s

much trouble to push on past the righplace.”

“How’s that?” Vane demanded.

Carroll sat down and filled his pipe. “It’

he natural result of possessing

emperament like yours. Somehow, you’v

got it firmly fixed into your mind thaeverything worth doing must be hard.”

“I’ve generally found it so.”



“I think,” said Carroll, grinning, “you’v

generally made it so. There’s a marked

difference between the two. If any mean

of doing a thing looks easy, you at oncconclude it can’t be the right way, whic

s a mode of reasoning that has neve

convinced me. In my opinion, it’s mor

sensible to try the easiest method first.”

“As a rule, that leads to your having to fal

back upon the other one; and a fronta

attack on a difficulty’s often quicker thaconsidering how you can work round it

flank. In this case I’ll own we hav

wasted a lot of time and taken a good dea

of trouble that might have been avoided

But are you going to sit here and smoke?”

“Until I’ve finished my pipe,” Carrol



answered. “I expect we’ll find tobacco

among other things, getting pretty scarc

before this expedition ends.”

He carried out his intention, and the

afterwards pushed on up the valley durin

he rest of the day. It grew more level a

hey proceeded, and in spite of the froswhich bound the feeding snows, there wa

a steady flow of water down the river

which was free from rocky barriers. Vane

who now and then glanced at the latteattentively, stopped when dusk wa

drawing near, and fixed his gaze on th

ong ranks of trees that stretched away i

front of him; fretted spires of sombr

greenery lifted high above a colonnade o

mighty trunks.



“Does anything in connection with thi

bush strike you?” he asked.

“Its stiffness, if that’s what you mean,Carroll suggested, smiling. “These bi

conifers look as if they’d been carved

They’re impressive, in a way, but they’r

oo artificial.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Vane informed

him impatiently.

“To tell the truth,” said Carroll, “I didn’

suppose it was. Anyway, these trees aren’

spruce. They’re red cedar, the stuff the

make the roofing shingles of.”

“Precisely. Just now, shingles are in good

demand in the Province, and with th



wooden towns springing up on the prairie

Western millers can hardly send roofing

material across the Rockies fast enough

Besides this, I haven’t struck a creek moradapted for running logs down, and th

ast sharp drop to tidewater would giv

power for a mill. I’m only puzzled tha

none of the timber-lease prospectors harecorded the place.”

“That’s easy to understand,” said Carroll

“Like you, they’d no doubt first search thmost difficult spots to get at.”

They went on in another minute, an

pitched their light tent beside the cree

when darkness fell.

“By the by, I thought you wer



disappointed when you got no mail a

Comox,” Carroll remarked at length

feeling that he was making something of

venture.

“I was,” said Vane.

This was not encouraging, but Carrolpersisted. “That’s strange, because you

hearing nothing from Nairn left you free t

go ahead, which, one would suppose, wa

what you wanted.”

Vane, as it happened, was in a

confidential mood; though usually avers

from sharing his troubles, he felt hneeded sympathy. “I’d better confess

wrote Miss Chisholm a few lines fro

anaimo.”



“Ah!” said Carroll softly; “and she didn

answer you. Now, I couldn’t well help

noticing that you were rather in her ba

graces that night at Nairn’s. No doubtyou’re acquainted with the reason?”

“I’m not,” Vane replied. “That’s just the

rouble.”

Carroll reflected. He had an idea tha

Miss Horsfield was somehow connecte

with the matter, but this was a suspiciohe could not mention.

“Well,” he said, “as I pointed out, you’re

addicted to taking the hardest way. Whewe came up here before, you marched pas

his valley, chiefly because it was close a

hand; but I don’t want to dwell on that



Has it occurred to you that you di

something of the same kind when yo

were at the Dene? The way that was the

offered you was easy.”

“This is not the kind of subject one care

o talk about; but you ought to know

couldn’t allow them to force MisChisholm upon me against her will. It wa

unthinkable! Besides, looking at it in th

most cold-blooded manner, it would hav

been foolishness, for which we’d bothave to pay afterwards.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” said Carrol

houghtfully. “There were the Sabin

women among other instances. Didn’t the

cut off their hair to make bow-strings fo

heir abductors?”



His companion made no answer, and

Carroll, deciding that he had ventured a

far as was prudent, talked of somethin

else until they crept into the little tent, ansoon afterwards they fell asleep.

They started with the first of the dayligh

next morning, but the timber grew denseand more choked with underbrush as the

proceeded, and for several days the

wearily struggled through it and th

clogging masses of tangled, withered fernBesides this, they were forced to clambe

over fallen trunks, when the ragged end

of the snapped-off branches caught thei

oads. Their shoulders ached, their boot

were ripped, their feet were badly galled

but they held on stubbornly, plungin

deeper into the mountains all the while.



Soon after setting out one morning, the

climbed a clearer hillside to look abou

hem. High up ahead, the crest of the whit

range gleamed dazzlingly against leadecloud in a burst of sunshine; below, dar

forest, still wrapped in gloom, filled al

he valley; and in between, on the middl

slopes, a belt of timber touched by thight shone with a curious silvery lustre

Though it was some distance off, probabl

a day’s journey, allowing for the difficulty

of the march, Vane gazed at it earnestly

The trees were bare—there was no doub

of that, for the dwindling ranks

diminished by the distance, stood ouagainst the snow-streaked rock like row

of rather thick needles set upright. Thei

straightness and the way they glistene

suggested the resemblance.



“Ominous, isn’t it?” Carroll said at length

“If this is the valley Hartley came down

and everything points to that, we should b

getting near the spruce.”

Vane’s face grew set. “Yes,” he agreed

“There has been a big fire up yonder; bu

whether it has swept the lower ground onot is more than I can tell. We’ll find ou

early to-morrow.”



CHAPTER XXVII—THE END OF

THE SEARCH.

The two men made a hurried breakfast i

he cold dawn and not long afterward

hey were struggling through thick timber

when the light suddenly grew a littlclearer. Carroll remarked upon the fac

and Vane’s face hardened.

“We’re either coming to a swamp, or therack the fire has swept is close in front,

he latter said.

A thicket lay before him, but he smashedsavagely through the midst of it, th

undergrowth snapping and crackling abou

his limbs. Then there was a network o

angled branches to be crossed, an



afterwards, reaching slightly cleare

ground, he broke into a run. Three or fou

minutes later, he stopped, breathless and

ragged, with his rent boots scarcelclinging to his feet; and Carroll, who cam

up with him, gazed eagerly about.

The living forest rose behind them, aalmost unbroken wall, but ahead the tree

ran up in detached and blackened spires

Their branches had vanished; ever

cluster of sombre-green needles andelicate spray had gone; the grea

rampikes, as they are called, looked lik

shafts of charcoal. About their feet la

crumbling masses of calcined wood whic

grew more and more numerous wher

here were open spaces farther on and the

he bare, black columns ran on again, u



he valley and the steep hill benches o

either hand. It was a weird scene o

desolation; impressive to the point o

being appalling in its suggestiveness owidespread ruin.

For the space of a minute the men gazed a

t; and then Vane, stretching out his handpointed to a snow-sheeted hill.

“That’s the peak Hartley mentioned,” h

said in a voice which was strangelncisive. “Give me the axe.”

He took it from his comrade and, stridin

forward, attacked the nearest rampikeTwice the keen blade sank noiselessly

overhead, scattering a black dust in th

frosty air; and then there was a clear



ringing thud. After that, Vane smote on

with a determined methodical swiftness

until Carroll grabbed his shoulder.

“Look out!” he cried. “It’s going.”

Vane stepped back a few paces; the trunk

reeled and rushed downwards: there waa deafening crash, and they wer

enveloped in a cloud of gritty dus

Through the midst of it they dimly saw

wo more great trunks collapse; and thesomewhere up the valley a series o

hundering shocks, which both knew wer

not echoes, broke out. The sound jarre

upon Carroll’s nerves, as the thud of th

felled rampike had not done, but Vane

picked up one of the chips and handed it t

him.



“We have found Hartley’s spruce,” he

said.

Carroll did not answer for a minute. Afteall, when defeat must be faced, there wa

very little to be said, though hi

companion’s expression troubled him. It

grim stolidity was portentous.

“I suppose,” he remarked at length

“nothing could be done with it?”

Vane pointed to the butt of the tree, which

showed a space of clean wood surrounde

by a blackened rim.

“You can’t make marketable pulp o

charcoal, and the price would have to ru

pretty high before it would pay for rippin



most of the log away to get at the residue,

he answered harshly.

“But there may be some unburned sprucfarther on,” Carroll urged.

“It’s possible,” said Vane. “I’m going to

find out.”

This was a logical determination; but, i

spite of his recent suggestion, Carrol

realised that he would have abandoned thsearch there and then, had the choice bee

eft to him, in which he did not think h

was singular. After all they had

undergone, the shock of thdisappointment was severe. He coul

have faced a failure to locate the spruc

with some degree of philosophical calm



but to find it at last, useless, was ver

much worse. But he did not expect hi

companion to turn back yet: before h

desisted, Vane would seek for andexamine every unburned tree. What wa

more, Carroll, who thought the searc

could serve no purpose, would have t

accompany him. Then the latter noticehat Vane was waiting for him to speak

and he decided that this was a situatio

which he had better endeavour to trea

ightly.

“I think I’ll have a smoke,” he said. “I’

afraid any remarks I could make wouldn’

do justice to the occasion. Language ha

ts limits.”

He sat down on the charred log and too



out his pipe before he proceeded: “A

brûlée’s not a nice place to wander abou

n when there’s any wind, and I’ve an ide

here’s some coming, though it’s quienow.”

Shut in, as they were, in the deep hollow

with the towering snows above them, iwas impressively still; and in conjunctio

with the sight of the black desolation th

deep silence reacted upon Carroll’

nerves. He longed to escape from it, tmake a noise, though this, if don

unguardedly, might bring more of th

rampikes thundering down. He could hea

iny flakes of charcoal falling from them

and though the fire had long gone out,

faint and curious crackling, as if the dea

embers were stirring. He wondered if thi



were some effect of the frost; it struck hi

as disturbing and weird.

“We’ll work right round the brûlée,” saiVane. “Then I suppose we had better head

back for Vancouver, though we’ll look a

hat cedar as we go down. Somethin

might be made of it; I’m not sure we’vhrown our time away.”

“You wouldn’t be sure of such a thing,”

said Carroll. “It isn’t in you.”

Vane disregarded this. A new constructive

policy was already springing up out of th

wreck of his previous plans. “There’s good mill site on the inlet, but as it’s

ong way from the railroad we’ll have t

determine whether it would be cheaper t



ow the logs down or split them up on th

spot,” he went on. “I’ll talk it over wit

Drayton; he’ll no doubt be useful, an

here’s no reason why he shouldn’t earhis share.”

“Do you believe the arrangement yo

made with Hartley applies to the cedar?”

“Of course,” said Vane. “I don’t know tha

he other parties could insist upon th

original terms—we can discuss that laterbut, though it may be modified, th

arrangement stands.”

His companion considered the mattedispassionately, as an abstrac

proposition. Here was a man, who, i

return for certain information respectin



he whereabouts of a marketabl

commodity, had undertaken to find and

share it with his informant. Th

commodity had proved to be valuelessbut during the search for it he ha

ncidentally discovered something else

Was he under any obligation to share the

atter with his informant’s heirs?

Carroll decided that the question coul

only be answered in the negative; but h

had no intention of disputing hicomrade’s point of view. In the firs

place, this would probably only mak

Vane more determined or ruffle hi

emper; and in the second Carroll, wh

felt very dubious about the prospect o

working the cedar profitably, was neithe

a covetous nor an ambitious person, whic



was, perhaps, on the whole, fortunate fo

him.

Vane, as his partner realised, waambitious; but in place of aspiring afte

wealth or social prominence—the latter o

which had, indeed, of late began to pall o

him—his was a different aim; to rend thhidden minerals from the hills, to tur

forests into dressed lumber, to mak

something grow. Dollars are often, thoug

not always, made that way; but while haffected no contempt for them, in Vane’

case their acquisition was undoubtedly no

he end. Fortunately, he was not altogethe

singular in this respect.

When he next spoke, there was, however

no hint of altruistic sentiment in his cur



nquiry: “Are you going to sit there unti

you freeze?”

Carroll got up, and they spent the rest ohe day plodding through the brûlée, wit

he result that when darkness fell Vane ha

abandoned all idea of working the spruce

ext morning, they set out for the inleand one afternoon during the journey the

came upon several fallen logs lyin

athwart each other with their branche

spread in a horrible tangle between. Vaneproceeded to walk along one log, whic

was tilted up several yards above th

ground, balancing himself carefully upo

he rounded surface; and Carroll followe

until the end of a broken branch, which h

evidently had not noticed, caught in th

eader’s clothes. Next moment there was



sharp snapping, and Vane plunged down

nto the tangle beneath, while Carrol

stood still and laughed. It was not a

uncommon accident.

Vane, however, did not reappear; nor wa

here any movement among the half-rotte

boughs and withered sprays, and Carrollmoving forward hastily, looked down into

he hole. He was disagreeably surprise

o see his comrade lying, rather white i

face, upon his side.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to chop me out,

he said, and his voice was hoarse. “Get t

work; I can’t move my leg.”

Moving farther along the log, Carrol

dropped to the ground, which was les



encumbered there, and spent the nex

quarter of an hour hewing a passage to hi

comrade. Then as he stood beside him, ho

and panting, Vane looked up.

“It’s my lower leg; the left,” he said

“Bone’s broken; I felt it snap.”

Carroll turned from him for a moment i

consternation. Looking out between th

branches, he could see the lonely hill

ower, pitilessly white, against the blue ohe frosty sky, and the rigid firs runnin

back as far as his vision reached upo

heir lower slopes. There was no touch o

ife in all the picture; everything wa

silent and motionless, and its desolatio

came near to appalling him. When h

ooked round again, Vane smiled wryly.



“If this had happened farther north, i

would have been the end of me,” he said

“As it is, it’s awkward.”

The word struck Carroll as singularl

nadequate, but he made an effort to gathe

his courage when his companion broke of

with a groan of pain.

“It’s lucky we helped that doctor when h

set Pete’s leg at Bryant’s mill,” he said

“Can you wait a few minutes?”

Vane’s face was beaded with damp now

but he tried to smile. “It strikes me,” h

answered, “I’ll have to wait a mighty lonime.”

Carroll turned and left him. He was afrai



o stand still and think, but action was

relief. It was some time before he returne

with several strips of fabric cut from th

ent curtain, and the neatest splints hcould extemporise from slabs of stripped

off bark, and the next half-hour was

rying one to both of them. Sometime

Vane assisted him with suggestions—oncehe reviled his clumsiness—and sometime

he lay silent with his face awry and hi

ips tight set; but at length it was done, an

Carroll stood up, breathing hard.

“I’ll fasten you on to a couple of skids an

pull you out,” he said. “Then I’ll mak

camp.”

He managed it with difficulty, pitched th

ent above Vane, whom he covered with



heir blankets, and made a fire outside.

“Are you comfortable now?” he inquired.

Vane looked up at him with a somewha

ghastly grin. “I suppose I’m about a

comfortable as could be expected

Anyhow, I’ve got to get used to the thingSix weeks is the shortest limit, isn’t it?”

Carroll confessed that he did not know

and presently Vane resumed: “It’s luckyhat the winters aren’t often very cold s

near the coast.”

The temperature struck Carroll as lowenough, but he made no answer. To hi

disgust, he could think of no cheerin

observation, for there was no doubt tha



he situation was serious. They were cu

off from the sloop by leagues of tangle

forest which a vigorous man would find i

difficult to traverse, and it would bweeks before Vane could use his leg; no

human assistance could be looked for, and

hey had only a small quantity o

provisions left. Besides this, it would nobe easy to keep the sufferer warm i

rigorous weather.

“I’ll make supper. You’ll feel betterafterwards,” he said at length.

“Then don’t be too liberal,” Vane warned

him.

The latter fell into a restless doze after th

meal, and it was dark when he opened hi



eyes again.

“I can’t sleep any more, and we may a

well talk—there are things to barranged,” he said. “In the first place, a

soon as I feel a little easier, you’ll have to

sail across to Comox and hire some me

o pack me out. When you’ve sent theoff, you’ll make for Vancouver, and get a

imber licence and find out how matter

are going on.”

“That,” said Carroll firmly, “is out of th

question. Nairn can look after our minin

nterests—he’s a capable man—and if th

hing’s too much for him they can go to

smash. Besides, they won’t give you

imber licence without full particulars o

area and limits, and we’ve blazed n



boundaries. Anyhow, I’m staying righ

here.”

Vane began to protest, but Carroll raisedhis hand. “Argument’s not conducive to

recovery. You’re on your back

unfortunately, and I’ll give way to you, a

usual, as soon as you’re on your feeagain, but not before.”

“I’d better point out that we’ll both b

hungry by then. The provisions won’t lasong.”

“Then I’ll look for a deer as soon as

hink you can be left. And now we’ll try toalk of something more amusing.”

“Can you see anything humorous in th



situation?”

“I can’t,” Carroll confessed. “Still, ther

may be something of that descriptiowhich I haven’t noticed yet. By the way

he last time we were at Nairn’s,

happened to cross the room near wher

you and Miss Horsfield were sitting, and heard her ask you to wait for something a

anaimo or Comox. I thought it curious.”

“She told me to wait, so she could senme word to come back, if it was needful.”

“Ah!” said Carroll; “I won’t ask why sh

was willing to do so—it concerns yomore than me—but I fancy that as regard

your interests in the Clermont a warnin

from her would be worth as much as on



from Nairn; that is, if she could b

depended on.”

“Have you any doubt upon the subject?”

“Don’t get angry. Perhaps I’ve talked too

much. We have to think of your injury.”

“I’m not likely to forget it,” Vane

nformed him. “But I dare say you’re righ

n one respect—as an amusing companio

you’re a dead failure, and talking isn’t aeasy as I imagined.”

He lay silent afterwards, and, though h

had disclaimed any desire for sleep, worby the march and pain, as he was, his eye

presently closed. Carroll, however, sa

ong awake, and afterwards admitted tha



he felt badly afraid. Deer are by no mean

numerous in some parts of the bush; the

had not seen one during the journey; an

hough there was a little food left on boarher, it was a long way to the sloop.

Once or twice, for no obvious reason, h

drew aside the tent flap and looked outThe sky was cloudless and darkly blue

and a sickle moon gleamed in it, keen an

clear with frost. Below, the hills wer

washed in silver, majestic, but utterlcheerless; and lower still the serrated top

of the rigid firs cut against the drear

whiteness. After each glimpse of them

Carroll drew his blanket tighter round hi

with a shiver. Very shortly, when the little

flour and pork were gone and their few

cartridges had been expended, he woul



be reduced to the condition of primitiv

man. Cut off from all other resources, h

must then wrest what means of subsistenc

he could from the snowy wilderness bbrute strength and cunning and suc

nstruments as he could make with hi

unassisted hands, except that an axe o

Pennsylvania steel was better than a stonone. Civilisation has its compensations

and Carroll longed for a few more of the

hat night.

On rising next morning, he found the fros

keener, and he spent the day and a numbe

of those that followed in growing anxiety

which was only temporarily lessene

when he once succeeded in killing a deer

There was almost a dearth of animal lif

n the lonely valley. Sometimes at first



Vane was feverish; often he was irritable

and the recollection of the three or fou

weeks he spent with him afterward

haunted Carroll like a nightmare. At lastwhen he had spent several days in vai

search for a deer and the provisions wer

almost exhausted, he and his companio

held a council of emergency.

“There’s no use in arguing,” Vane

declared. “You’ll rig me a shelter of gree

boughs outside the tent and close to thfire. I can move from the waist upwards

and if it’s necessary, drag myself with my

hands. Then you can chop enough cord

wood to last a while, cook my share of th

eatables, and leave me while you go dow

o the sloop. There’s half a bag of flou

and a few other things I’d be uncommonl



glad of on board her.”

Carroll expostulated; but it was eviden

hat his companion was right, and nexmorning he started for the inlet, takin

with him the smallest possible portion o

heir provisions. So long as he had enoug

o keep him from fainting on the way, iwas all he required, because he coul

renew his stores on board the boat. Th

weather broke during the march; drivin

snow followed him down the valley, andby and by gave place to bitter rain. Th

withered underbush was saturated, the soi

was soddened with melting snow, and

after the first scanty meal or two he dar

risk no delay. He felt himself flaggin

from insufficient food, and it was obviou

hat he must reach the sloop before h



broke down. He had tobacco, but tha

failed to stay the gnawing pangs, an

before the march was done he was on th

verge of exhaustion; forcing himselonward, drenched, and grim of face

scarcely able to keep upon his bleedin

feet.

t was falling dusk and blowing fres

when he limped down the beach and wit

a last effort launched the light dinghy an

pulled off to the sloop. She rode rathedeep in the water, but that did not troubl

him. Most wooden craft leak more or less

and it was a considerable time since h

had pumped her out. Clambering wearil

on board, he made the dinghy fast; an

hen stood still a moment or two, lookin

about him with his hand on the cabin side



Thin flakes of snow drifted past him; th

firs were rustling eerily ashore, an

ragged wisps of cloud drove by low dow

above their tops. Little frothy rippleflecked the darkening water with streak

of white and splashed angrily against th

bows of the craft. The prospect wa

oppressively dreary, and the worn-ouman was glad that he was at last in shelte

and could snatch a few hours’ rest.

Thrusting back the slide, he steppebelow and lighted the lamp. Th

brightening glow showed him that th

boat’s starboard side was wet high up

and, though there was a good deal o

water in her, this puzzled him, until a

explanation suggested itself. They ha

moored the craft carefully, but h



supposed she must have dragged he

anchor or kedge and swung in near enoug

he shore to ground towards low-tide

Then, as the tide left her, she would falover on her starboard bilge, because the

had lashed the heavy boom down on tha

side, and the water in her would cover th

depressed portion of her interior. Thireasoning was probably correct; but h

did not foresee the result, until afte

ighting the stove and putting on the kettle

he opened the provision locker, whic

was to starboard. Then he saw with

shock of dismay that the stock of food the

had counted on was ruined. Thperiodically submerged flour bag ha

rotted and burst, and most of its content

had run out into the water as the boa

righted with the rising tide; the prepare



cereals, purchased to save cooking, ha

urned to mouldy pulp; and the few othe

stores were in much the same condition

There were only two sound cans of beefand a few ounces of unspoiled tea in

canister.

Carroll’s courage failed him as hrealised it, but he felt that he must eat an

sleep before he could grapple with th

situation. He would allow himself a mea

and a few hours’ rest; and crawling ouwhile the kettle boiled, he shortened in th

cable and plied the pump. Then he wen

below, and feasted on preserved beef and

ea, gauging the size of each slice wit

anxious care, until he reluctantly laid th

can aside. After that, he filled his pip

and, stretching out his aching limbs on th



port locker, which was comparatively dry

soon sank into heavy sleep.



CHAPTER XXVIII—CARROLL

SEEKS HELP.

Carroll slept for several hours before h

awakened and sat up on the locker

shivering. He had left the hatch slightl

open, and a confused uproar reached hifrom outside—the wail of wind-tosse

rees; the furious splash of ripples agains

he bows; and the drumming of th

halliards upon the mast. There was ndoubt that it was blowing hard; but th

wind was off the land, and the sloop i

shelter.

Filling his pipe, he set himself to think

and promptly decided that it would hav

been better had he gone down to the sloo

n the beginning, before the provisions ha



been spoiled, instead of in the end

Reluctance to leave his helples

companion had mainly prevented him fro

doing this, but he had also beeencouraged by the possibility of obtainin

a deer now and then. It was clear that h

had made a mistake in remaining, but i

was not the first time he had done so, anhe point was unimportant. The burnin

question was: What must he do now?

t would obviously be useless to go bacwith rations that would barely suffice fo

he march: Vane still had food enough to

keep life in one man for a little while. O

he other hand, it would not be a long sai

o Comox with a strong northerly wind

and if the sloop would face the sea tha

was running he might return wit



assistance before his comrade’s scant

store was exhausted. Getting out th

mildewed chart, he laid off his course

carefully trimmed and lighted the binnaclamp, and going up on deck hauled in th

kedge anchor. He could not break the mai

one out, though he worked savagely with

ackle, and deciding to slip it, he manageo lash three reefs in the mainsail and hois

t with the peak left down. Then he sa

down to gather breath—for the work ha

been cruelly heavy—before he let th

cable run and hoisted the jib.

She paid off when he put up his helm, an

he black loom of trees ashore vanished

He thought he could find his way out of th

nlet, but he only knew that he had done s

when the angry ripples that splashed abou



he boat suddenly changed to confuse

umbling combers. They foamed up i

swift succession on her quarter, but h

fancied she would withstand theionslaught, so long as he could prevent he

from screwing up to windward when sh

ifted. It would need constant care, and i

he failed, the next comber would, ndoubt, break on board. His task was on

hat would have taxed the vigilance of

strong, well-fed man, and Carroll ha

already nearly reached the limit of hi

powers.

His case, however, was by no means an

unusual one. The cost of the subjugation o

he wilderness is the endurance of hunge

and thirst, cold and crushing fatigue; an

somebody pays to the uttermost farthing



Carroll, sitting drenched, strung up, an

hungry, at the helm, was merely playin

his part in the struggle, though he found i

cruelly hard.

t was pitch dark, but he must gaze ahea

and guess the track of the pursuing seas b

he angle of the spouting white ridgabreast of the weather shrouds. He had

compass, but when his course did no

coincide with safety it must b

disregarded. The one essential thing wao keep the sloop on top, and to do so h

had frequently to let her fall off dea

before the mad white combers that leape

out of the dark. By and by, his arms bega

o ache from the strain of the tiller, and hi

wet fingers grew stiff and claw-like. Th

nervous strain was also telling, but tha



could not be helped; he must keep the craf

before the sea or go down with her. Ther

was one consolation—she was travellin

at a furious speed.

At length, morning broke over a leade

sea that was seamed with white; and h

glanced longing at the meat-can on thocker near his feet. He could reach it b

stooping, though he dare not leave th

helm, but he determined to wait until noo

before he broke his fast again. It could nobe very far to Comox, but the wind migh

drop. Then he began to wonder how h

had escaped the perils of the night. He ha

come down what was really a wide an

not quite straight sound passing severa

unlighted islands. Before starting, he ha

decided that he would run so long and the



change his course a point or two, but h

could not be sure that he had done so. H

had a hazy recollection of seeing surf, an

once a faint loom of land, but he supposehe had avoided it half-consciously or tha

chance had favoured him.

n the afternoon, the wind changed a littlebacking to the north-west; the sky grew

brighter, and he made out shadowy land

over his starboard quarter. By and by h

recognised it with a start. It was the higridge north of Comox, and as he had ru

farther than he had expected, he must try t

hoist the peak of the mainsail and haul he

on the wind. There was danger i

rounding her up, but it must be faced

hough a sea foamed across her as he pu

down his helm. Another followed, but h



scrambled forward and struggle

desperately to hoist the downhanging gaff

The halliards were swollen; he coul

scarcely keep his footing on the delugedeck that slanted steeply under him. H

hought he could have mastered th

banging canvas had he been fresh; bu

worn out as he was, drenched with sprayand buffeted by the shattered tops of th

seas, the task was beyond his power

Giving it up, he staggered back, breathles

and almost nerveless, to the helm.

He could not reach Comox, which lay t

windward, with the sail half-set, but i

was only seventy miles or thereabouts t

anaimo and not very much farther t

Vancouver. The breeze would be fair to

either, and he could charter a launch or tu



for the return journey. Letting her go

before the sea again, he ate some canne

meat ravenously, tearing it with one hand.

Shortly afterwards, a grey mass rose ou

of the water to port and he supposed i

was Texada. There were mines on the

sland, and he might be able to engage rescue party; but he reflected that he coul

not beat the sloop back to windwar

unless the breeze fell, which it showed n

signs of doing. It would be more prudeno go on to Vancouver, where he would be

sure of getting a steamer, but he closed

with the long island a little, and dusk wa

falling when he made out a boat in th

partial shelter of a bight. Standing i

closer, he saw that there were two men i

he craft, and driving down upon her h



backed the jib and ran alongside.

There was a crash as he struck the boat

and an astonished and angry man clutchehe sloop’s rail.

“Now what in the name of thunder?” h

began, and stopped, struck by Carroll’ragged appearance.

“Can you take this sloop to Vancouver?”

he latter inquired.

“I could if it was worth while,” was th

cautious answer. “It will be a mighty we

run.”

“Seven dollars a day, until you’re hom

again,” said Carroll. “A bonus if you ca

sail her with the whole reefed mainsail up



—I won’t stick at a few dollars. Can you

partner pull that boat ashore alone? If no

cast her adrift, I’ll buy her.”

“He’ll make the beach,” said the other

umping on board. “Seven dollars sound

a square deal. I won’t put the screw o

you.”

“Then help me hoist the peak,” Carrol

bade him. “After that, you can take th

helm; I’m played out.”

The man, who shouted something to hi

companion, seized the halliards; and th

sloop drove on again furiously; with ancreased spread of canvas, while Carrol

stood holding on by the coaming while th

boat dropped back.



“I’ll leave you to it,” he informed the new

helmsman. “It’s twenty-four hours sinc

’ve had more than a bite or two of food

and some weeks since I had a decenmeal.”

“You look like it,” the other informed him

“Been up against it somewhere?”

Carroll, who did not reply, crawled

below and managed to light the stove an

make a kettleful of tea. He drank a goodeal of it, and nearly emptied th

remaining small meat-can, which h

presently held out for his companion’

nspection, standing beneath the hatch.

“There’s some tea left, but this is all ther

s to eat on board the craft,” he said



“You’re hired to take her to Vancouver—

and you’d better get there as soon as yo

can.”

The bronzed helmsman nodded. “Sh

won’t be long on the way if the mast hold

up.”

“Have you seen any papers lately?

Carroll inquired. “I’ve been up in the bus

and I’m interested in the Clermont mine. I

ooked as if there might be some changen the company’s prospects when I wen

away.”

“I noticed a bit about it in the Colonist while back,” was the answer. “They sold

out to another concern, or amalgamate

with it; I don’t remember which.”



Carroll was not astonished. The news

which implied that he must be prepared t

face a more or less serious financia

reverse struck him as a fitting climax this misadventures.

“It’s pretty much what I expected, and I’

going to sleep,” he said. “I don’t want tbe wakened before it’s necessary.”

He crawled below, and he had hardl

stretched himself out upon the lockebefore his eyes closed. When he opene

hem, feeling more like his usual self, h

saw that the sun was above the horizon

and recognised by the boat’s motion tha

he wind had fallen. Going out, he foun

her driving through the water under he

whole mainsail and the helmsman sittin



stolidly at the tiller. The man stretched ou

a hand and pointed to the hazy hills t

port.

“We’ll fetch the Narrows some time

before noon,” he said. “If you’ll take th

helm, I guess we’ll halve that meat fo

breakfast.”

His prediction proved correct, for Carrol

reached his hotel about midday, and

hastily changing his clothes, set off to calon Nairn. He had not recovered his menta

equipoise, and in spite of his long, soun

sleep, he was still badly jaded physically

On arriving at the house, he was show

nto a room where Mrs. Nairn and he

husband were sitting with Evelyn, waitin

for the midday meal. The elder lady ros



with a start of astonishment when h

walked in.

“Man,” she said, “what’s wrong? Ye’reooking like a ghost.”

t was not an inapt description. Carroll’

face was worn and haggard, and hiclothes hung slack on him.

“I’ve been feeling rather unsubstantial o

ate, as the result of a restricted diet,” hanswered with a smile, and sat down i

he nearest chair, while Nairn regarded

him with carefully suppressed curiosity.

“Ye’re ower lang in coming,” he

remarked. “Where did ye leave you

partner?”



Carroll sat silent a moment or two, hi

eyes fixed on Evelyn. It was evident tha

his sudden appearance unaccompanied b

Vane, which he felt had been undesirablydramatic, had alarmed her. At first he fel

compassionate, and then he was suddenl

possessed by hot indignation. This girl

with her narrow prudish notions and coldblooded nature, had presumed to condem

his comrade, unheard, for an imaginar

offence. The thing was at once ludicrou

and intolerable; if his news brought he

dismay, let her suffer. His nerves, it mus

be remembered, were not in their norma

condition.

“Yes,” he said, in answer to his host’

first remark; “I’ve gathered that we hav

failed to save the situation. But I don



know exactly what has happened; you ha

better tell me.”

Mrs. Nairn made a sign of protest, but hehusband glanced at her restrainingly.

“Ye will hear his news in good time,” he

nformed her, and turned to Carroll. “In few words, the capital wasna subscribed

t leaked out that the ore was running poo

and we held an emergency meeting. Wit

Vane away, I could put no confidence intohe shareholders—they were anxious t

get from under—and Horsfield brough

forward an amalgamation scheme: hi

friends would take the property over, o

heir valuation. I and a few others wer

outvoted; the scheme went through, an

when the announcement steadied the stock



which had been tumbling down,

exercised the authority given me and sol

your shares and Vane’s at considerably

ess than their face value. Ye can haveparticulars later. What I have to ask now

s: Where is Vane?”

The man’s voice grew sharp; the questiowas flung out like an accusation, bu

Carroll still looked at Evelyn. He felt ver

bitter against her.

“I left him in the bush with no more than

few days’ provisions and a broken leg,”

he said.

Then, in spite of Evelyn’s efforts to retai

her composure, her face blanched; an

Carroll’s anger vanished, because th



ruth was clear. Vane had triumphed

hrough disaster; his peril and ruin ha

swept his offences away. The girl, who

had condemned him in his prosperitywould not turn away from him i

misfortune. In the meanwhile, the other

sat silent, gazing at the bearer of evi

news, until he spoke again.

“I want a tug to take me back at once, i

she can be got,” he said. “I’ll pick up

few men along the water-front.”

airn rose and went out of the room. Th

inkle of a telephone bell reached thos

who remained, and he came back a minut

or two later.

“I’ve sent Whitney round,” he announced



“He’ll come across if there’s a boat to b

had, and now ye look as if ye neede

unch.”

“It’s several weeks since I had one,” said

Carroll with a smile.

The meal was brought in, but for a whilhe talked as well as ate; relating hi

adventures in somewhat disjointe

fragments, while the rest sat listening. H

was also pleased to notice somethinwhich suggested returning confidence i

him in Evelyn’s intent eyes as the tal

proceeded. When at last he had made th

matter clear, he added: “If I keep yo

waiting, you’ll excuse me.”

His hostess watched his subsequent effort



with candid approval, and, looking up

once or twice, he saw sympathy in th

girl’s face, instead of the astonishment o

disgust he had half expected. When he hafinished, his hostess rose and Carrol

stood up, but Nairn signed to him t

resume his place.

“I’m thinking ye had better sit still a whil

and smoke,” he said.

Carroll was glad to do so, and he anairn conferred together, until the latte

was called to the telephone.

“Ye can have the Brodick boat at noon tomorrow,” he said on his return.

“That won’t do,” Carroll objecte



heavily. “Send Whitney round again;

must sail to-night.”

He had some difficulty in getting out thwords, and when he rose his eyes wer

half closed. Walking unsteadily, he

crossed the room and sank into a bi

ounge.

“I think,” he resumed, “if you don’t mind

’ll go to sleep.”

airn merely nodded, and when, afte

sitting silent a minute or two, he wen

softly out, the worn-out man was alread

wrapped in profound slumber. As ihappened, Nairn received another call b

elephone and left in haste for his office

without speaking to his wife; with th



result that the latter and Evelyn, returnin

o the room by and by in search of Carrol

found him lying still. The elder lad

raised her hand in warning as she benover the sleeper, and then, taking up

ight rug, spread it gently over him

Evelyn, too, was stirred to sudden pity

for the man’s attitude was eloquent oexhaustion.

They withdrew gently and had reached th

corridor when Mrs. Nairn turned to thgirl.

“When he first came in, ye blamed tha

man for deserting his partner,” she said.

Evelyn confessed it, and her hostes

smiled meaningly. “Are ye no rather read





Evelyn did not answer. She had neve

seen her hostess in this mood, and she wa

also stirred; but the elder lady went o

again: “The virtue of a gift lies in part, buno altogether, with the giver. Whiles, i

may be bestowed unworthily, but I’

hinking it’s no often. The bond that wil

drag Carroll back to the North again, this death if it is needful, has no been spu

from nothing.”

Evelyn had no doubt that Mrs. Nairn waright. Loyalty, most often, demanded

worthy object to tender service to; i

sprang from implicit confidence, mutua

respect, and strong appreciation. It wa

not without a reason Vane had inspired i

n his comrade’s breast; and this was th

man she had condemned. The latter fac



however, was by comparison a ver

minor trouble. Vane was lying, helples

and alone, in the snowy wilderness, i

peril of his life, and she knew that shoved him. She realised now, when i

might be too late, that had he in realit

been stained with dishonour, she could

have forgiven him. Indeed, it had onlbeen by a painful effort she ha

maintained some show of composur

since Carroll had brought the disastrou

news and she felt she could not keep it up

much longer.

What she said to Mrs. Nairn she could no

remember, but escaping from her, she

retired to her own room, to lie still an

grapple with an agony of fear an

contrition.





CHAPTER XXIX—JESSIE’S

CONTRITION.

After leaving Mrs. Nairn, Carroll walke

owards Horsfield’s residence in

houghtful mood, because he felt i

ncumbent upon him to play a part he wanot particularly fitted for in a somewha

delicate matter. Uncongenial as his tas

was, it was one which could not be left t

Vane, who was even less to be trustedwith the handling of such affairs; an

Carroll had resolved, as he would hav

described it, to straighten out things.

His partner had somehow offende

Evelyn, and though she was now dispose

o forgive him, the recollection of hi

suppositious iniquity might afterward



rankle in her mind. Though Vane wa

nnocent of any conduct she could wit

reason take exception to, it was first of al

needful to ascertain the exact nature of thcharge against him. Carroll, who had fo

several reasons preferred not to press thi

question upon Evelyn, had a stron

suspicion that Jessie Horsfield was at thbottom of the trouble. There was also

clue to follow—Vane had paid the rent o

Celia Hartley’s shack; and he wondered i

Jessie could by any means have heard o

t. If she had done so the matter would b

simplified, because he had a profoun

distrust of her. A recent action of herswas, he thought, sufficient to justify thi

attitude.

He found her at home, reclining gracefull



n an easy-chair in her drawing-room, an

hough she did not seem astonished to se

him, he fancied her expression hinted a

suppressed concern.

“I heard you had arrived alone, and

ntended to come over and make inquirie

as soon as I thought Mrs. Nairn would bat liberty,” she informed him.

Carroll had found the direct attac

effective in Evelyn’s case, and hdetermined to try it again. “Then,” h

began, “it says a good deal for you

courage.” He had never doubted that sh

possessed the latter quality, and sh

displayed it now.

“So,” she said calmly, “you have come a



an enemy.”

“Not exactly; it didn’t seem worth while

Though there’s no doubt you betrayed u—Vane waited for the warning you could

have sent—so far as it concerns ou

ruined interests in the Clermont, th

hing’s done and can’t be mended. We’let that question go. The most importan

point is that if you had recalled us, as yo

promised, Vane would now be safe and

sound.”

This shot told. The girl’s face became les

mperturbable; there was eagerness and

suggestion of fear in it. “Then has an

accident happened to him?” she aske

sharply.



“He’s lying in the bush, helpless, in

mminent peril of starvation.”

“Go on,” said the girl, with signs of straiclearly perceptible in her voice.

Carroll was brief, but he made he

understand the position, after which shurned upon him imperiously. “Then wh

are you wasting your time here?”

“It’s a reasonable question. I can’t get ug to take me back until noon to

morrow.”

“Ah!” said Jessie, and added: “You wilexcuse me for a minute.”

She left him astonished. He had no

expected her to take him at



disadvantage, as she had done with he

previous thrust, and now he did not thin

she had slipped away to hide her feelings

That did not seem necessary in Jessie’case, though he believed she was more o

ess disturbed. She came back presently

ooking calm, and sat down again.

“My brother will be here in a quarter o

an hour,” she informed him. “Things ar

rather slack, and he had half promised t

ake me for a drive; I have called him uphrough the telephone.”

Carroll did not see how this bore upon th

subject of their conversation, but he lef

her to take the lead.

“Did Vane tell you I had promised to war



him?” she asked.

“To do him justice, he let it out before he

quite realised what he was saying. I’better own that I partly surprised him int

giving me the information.”

“The expedient seems a favourite one wityou,” said Jessie. “I suppose no news o

what has happened here can have reache

him?”

“None. If it’s any consolation, he has stil

an unshaken confidence in you.” Carrol

assured her with blunt bitterness.

The girl showed faint signs of confusion

but she sat silent for the next few

moments, and during them it flashed upo



her companion with illuminating light tha

he had heard Celia Hartley say Mis

Horsfield had found her orders fo

millinery. This confirmed his previoususpicion that Jessie had discovered wh

had paid the rent of Celia’s shack, and tha

she had with deliberate malice informe

Evelyn, distorting her account so that iwould tell against Vane. There were

breaks in the chain of reasoning which le

him to this conclusion, but he did not thin

Jessie would shrink from such a course

and he determined to try a chance shot.

“Vane’s inclined to be trustful and his ras

generosity has once or twice got him int

rouble,” he remarked, and went on as i

an explanation were needed: “It’s Mis

Hartley’s case I’m thinking about jus



now. I’ve an idea he asked you to loo

after her. Am I right?”

As soon as he had spoken he knew he hahit the mark. Jessie did not openly betra

herself, but there are not many people wh

can remain absolutely unmoved whe

unexpectedly asked a startling questionBesides, the man was observant, and ha

strung up all his faculties for th

encounter. He saw one of her hand

ighten on the arm of her chair and a hinof uneasiness in her eyes, and it suffice

him.

“Yes,” she said; “I recommended her to

some of my friends. I understand she i

getting along satisfactorily.”



Carroll felt compelled to admire he

manner. He believed she loved hi

comrade and had nevertheless tried to rui

him in a fit of jealous rage. She was nowkeenly regretting her success, but thoug

he thought she deserved to suffer, she wa

bravely facing the trying situation. It wa

one that was rife with dramatipossibilities, and he was grateful to he

for avoiding them.

“You are going back to-morrow,” she saidafter a brief silence. “I suppose you wil

have to tell your partner what you hav

discovered here as soon as you reac

him?”

Carroll had not intended to spare her, bu

now he felt almost compassionate, and h



had one grain of comfort to offer. “I mus

ell him that his shares in the Clermon

have been sacrificed. I wonder if that i

all you meant?”

Jessie met his inquiring gaze wit

something very like an appeal; and the

spread out her hands in a manner tndicate that she threw herself upon hi

mercy.

“It is not all I meant,” she confessed.

“Then, if it’s any relief to you, I’ll confin

myself to telling him that he has bee

deprived of his most valuable property. dare say the news will hit him har

enough; but though he may afterward

discover other facts for himself, on th



whole I shouldn’t consider it likely. As

said, he’s confiding and slow to suspect.”

He read genuine gratitude, which he hahardly expected, in the girl’s face; but h

raised his hand and went on in the rathe

formal manner which he felt was the onl

safe one to assume. “I had, howeverbetter mention that I am going to call upo

Miss Hartley. After that I shall be

uncommonly thankful to start back for th

bush.” He paused, and concluded with sudden trace of humour: “I’ll own that

feel more at home with the work that wait

me there.”

Jessie made a little gesture which, while i

might have meant anything, was somehow

very expressive, and just then there wer



footsteps outside. Next moment Horsfiel

walked into the room.

“So you’re back,” he said.

“Yes,” said Carroll shortly. “Beaten a

both ends—there’s no use in hiding it.”

Horsfield showed no sign of satisfaction

and Carroll afterwards admitted that th

man behaved very considerately.

“Well,” he said, “though you may be

surprised to hear it, I’m sorry

Unfortunately, our interests clashed, and

naturally looked after mine. Once upon ime, I thought I could have worked han

n hand with Vane; but our ideas did no

coincide, and your partner is not the ma



o yield a point or listen to advice.”

Carroll was aware that Horsfield had b

means which were far from honourabldeprived him of a considerable portion o

his possessions. He had also betrayed hi

fellow shareholders in the Clermont mine

selling their interests, doubtless for sombenefit to himself, to another company

For all that, Carroll recognised that sinc

he and Vane were beaten, as he had

confessed, recriminations and reproachewould be useless as well as undignified

He preferred to face defeat calmly.

“It’s the fortune of war,” he replied

“What you say about Vane is correct; bu

although it is not a matter of muc

mportance now, it was impossible fro



he beginning that your views and his eve

should agree.”

“Too great a difference of temperament? dare say you’re right. Vane measure

hings by a different standard—mine’

perhaps more adapted to the market-place

But where have you left him?”

“In the bush. Miss Horsfield will, n

doubt, give you particulars; I’ve just tol

her the tale.”

“She called me up at the office and aske

me to come across at once. Will you

excuse us for a few minutes?”

They went out together, and Jessie, who

came back alone, sat down and looked a



Carroll in a diffident manner.

“I suppose,” she said, “one could hardl

expect you to think of either of us vereniently; but I must ask you to believe tha

am sincerely distressed to hear of you

partner’s accident. This was a thing

could never have anticipated; but there aramends I can make. Every minute you ca

save is precious, isn’t it?”

Carroll agreed, and she resumed: “Then can get you a tug. My brother tells me th

tlin’s coming across from Victoria and

should be here early this evening. He ha

gone back to the office to secure her fo

you, though she was fixed to go off for

og boom.”



“Thank you,” said Carroll. “It’s a grea

service.”

Jessie hesitated. “I think my brother woulike to say a few words when he returns

Can I offer you some tea?”

“I think not,” said Carroll, smiling. “Foone thing, if I sit still much longer, I shall

no doubt, go to sleep again, as I did a

airn’s, which would be neither seeml

nor convenient, if I’m to sail this eveningBesides, now we’ve arranged a

armistice, it might be wiser not to put to

much strain on it!”

“An armistice?”

“I think that describes it.” Carroll’



manner grew significant. “The wor

mplies a cessation of hostilities—o

certain terms.”

Jessie could take a hint, and his meanin

was clear. Unless she forced him to do so

he would not betray her to his comrade

who might never discover the part she haplayed; but he had given her a warning

which might be bluntly rendered as

“Hands off.” There was only one cours

open to her—to respect it. She habrought down the man she loved, but i

was clear that he was not for her, and now

he unreasoning fury which had driven he

o strike had passed, she was trouble

with contrition. There was nothing lef

except to retire from the field, and it wa

better to do so gracefully. For all that



here were signs of strain in he

expression as she capitulated.

“Well,” she said, “I have given you aproof that you have nothing to fear fro

me. My brother is the only man i

Vancouver who could have got you tha

ug for this evening; I understand the sawmill people are very much in need of th

ogs she was engaged to tow.”

She held out her hand and Carroll took ithough he had not expected to part fro

her on friendly terms.

“I owe you a deal for that,” he said anurned away.

His task, however, was only half complet



when he left the house, and the remainin

portion was the more difficult, but h

meant to finish it. He preferred to take lif

ightly; he had trifled with it befordisaster had driven him out into the wilds

but there was resolution in the man, and h

could force himself to play an unpleasan

part when it was needful. Fortune alsfavoured him, as she often does those wh

follow the boldest course.

He had entered Hastings Street when hmet Kitty and Celia. The latter looked thi

and somewhat pale, but she was movin

briskly, and her face was eager when sh

shook hands with him.

“We have been anxious about you—there

was no news,” she said. “Is Mr. Vane



with you? How have you got on?”

“We found the spruce,” said Carroll. “It’

not worth milling—a forest fire has wipemost of it out—but we struck som

shingling cedar we may make somethin

of.”

“But where’s Mr. Vane?”

“In the bush; I’ve a good deal to tell yo

about him, but we can’t talk here. wonder if we could find a quiet place in

restaurant, or if the park would be better.”

“The park,” said Kitty decidedly.

They reached it in due time and Carroll

who had refused to say anything abou

Vane on the way, found the girls a seat in



a grove of giant firs and sat dow

opposite to them. Though it was winter

he day, as is often the case nea

Vancouver, was pleasantly mild.

“Now,” he began, “my partner is

singularly unfortunate person. In the firs

place, the transfer of the Clermonproperty, which you have no doubt heard

of, means a serious loss to him, though h

s not ruined yet. He talks of putting up

shingling mill, in which Drayton will bof service, and if things turn ou

satisfactory you will be given an interes

n it.”

He added the last sentence as a

experiment, and was satisfied with th

result.



“Never mind our interests,” cried Kitty

“What about Mr. Vane?”

For the third time since his arrivaCarroll made the strongest appeal h

could to womanly pity, drawing with

purpose a vivid picture of his comrade’

peril and suffering. Nor was hdisappointed, for he saw consternation

compassion, and sympathy in the girls

faces. So far, the thing had been easy, bu

now he hesitated, and it was witdifficulty he nerved himself for what mus

follow.

“He has been beaten out of his stock in th

mine; he’s broken down in health and i

danger; but, by comparison, that doesn’

count for very much with him,” h



continued. “He has another trouble, an

hough I’m afraid I’m giving things awa

n mentioning it, if it could be got over, i

would help him to face the future and sehim on his feet again.”

Then he briefly recounted the story o

Vane’s regard for Evelyn, making the mosof his sacrifice in withdrawing from th

field, and again he realised that he ha

acted wisely. A love affair appealed to

his listeners, and there was a romance ihis one that heightened the effect of it.

“But Miss Chisholm can’t mean to tur

from him now,” said Celia.

Carroll looked at her meaningly. “No; sh

urned from him before he sailed. Sh



heard something about him.”

His companions appeared astonished

“But she couldn’t have heard anything thaanybody could mind,” Kitty exclaime

ndignantly. “He’s not that kind of man.”

“It’s a compliment,” said Carroll. “I thinkhe deserves it. At the same time, he’s a

ittle rash, and now and then a man’

generosity is open to misconception. I

his case, I don’t think one coulaltogether blame Miss Chisholm.”

Kitty glanced at him sharply and then a

Celia, who at first looked puzzled anafterwards startled. Then the blood surge

nto Kitty’s cheeks. “Oh!” she said, as i

she were breathless, “I was once afraid o



something like this. You mean we’re the

cause of it?”

The course he followed was hateful tCarroll, but the tangle could not b

straightened without somebody’s feeling

being hurt, and it was his comrade he wa

most concerned about.

“Yes,” he said quietly; “I believe you

understand the situation.”

He saw the fire in Kitty’s eyes and tha

Celia’s face was also flushed, but he did

not think their anger was directed agains

him. They knew the world they lived inand, for that matter, he could share thei

ndignation. He resented the fact that

ittle thing should bring such swif



suspicion upon them. He was, however

not required to face any disconcertin

climax.

“Well,” said Celia, “why did you tell u

his?”

“I think you both owe Vane something, anyou can do him a great favour now,

Carroll informed her.

Kitty looked up at him. “Don’t ask me tomuch, Mr. Carroll. I’m Irish, and I fee

ike killing somebody.”

“It’s natural,” said Carroll, with sympathetic smile. “I’ve now and then fel

much the same thing; it’s probabl

unavoidable in a world like this



However, I think you ought to call upon

Miss Chisholm, after I’ve gone, thoug

you had better not mention that I sent you

You can say you came for news of Vane—and add anything you consider necessary.”

The girls looked at one another, and a

ength, though it obviously cost her struggle, Kitty said to Celia firmly: “We

will have to go.” Then she faced roun

owards Carroll. “If Miss Chisholm won

believe us she’ll be sorry we came.”

Carroll made her a slight inclination

“She’ll deserve it, if she’s not convinced

But it might be better if you didn’

approach her in the mood you’re in jus

now.”



Kitty rose, signing to Celia, and he turne

back with them towards the city, feeling

certain constraint in their company and ye

conscious of a strong relief. It had growdark when he returned to Nairn’s house.

“Where have ye been?” his host inquired

“I had a clerk seeking ye all round thcity. I cannot get ye a boat before th

morn.”

Carroll saw that Mrs. Nairn shared hehusband’s desire to learn how he had bee

occupied. Evelyn was also in the room.

“There were one or two little matters tharequired attention, and I managed t

arrange them satisfactorily,” he said

“Among other things, I’ve got a tug and



expect to sail in an hour or two. Mis

Horsfield found me the vessel.”

He noticed Evelyn’s interest, and warather pleased to see it. If she wer

disposed to be jealous of Jessie, it coul

do no harm. Nairn, however, frowned.

“I’m thinking it might have been better i

ye had not troubled Jessie,” h

commented.

“I’m sorry I can’t agree with you,” Carrol

retorted. “The difference between thi

evening and noon to-morrow is a bi

consideration.”

“Weel,” said Nairn resignedly, “I canna

deny that.”



Carroll changed the subject, but some tim

ater Mrs. Nairn sat down near him in th

emporary absence of her husband an

Evelyn.

“We will no be disturbed for two or three

minutes,” she said. “Ye answered Alec

ike a Scotsman before supper and put hioff the track, though that’s no so eas

done.”

“You’re too complimentary,” he declared“The genuine Caledonian caution can’t b

acquired by outsiders. It’s a gift.”

“I’ll no practise it now,” said the lady“Ye’er no so proud of yourself fo

nothing. What have ye been after?”



Carroll crossed his finger tips and looke

at her over them. “Since you ask th

question, I may say this: If Miss Chishol

has two lady visitors during the next fewdays, you might make sure she sees them.”

“What are their names?”

“Miss Hartley, the daughter of th

prospector who sent Vane off to look fo

he timber; Miss Blake who, as you hav

probably heard, once came down the wescoast with him, in company with a

elderly lady and myself.”

Mrs. Nairn started; then she lookehoughtful, and finally broke into a smil

of open appreciation.



“Now,” she said, “I understand. I did no

hink it of ye. Ye’re no far from a genius.”

“Thanks,” said Carroll modestly. “believe I succeeded better than I coul

have expected, and perhaps than

deserved.”

Then they were interrupted, for Nair

walked hastily into the room.

“There’s one of the Atlin’s deck handbelow,” he announced. “He’s come on

here from Horsfield’s to say the boat’

ready with a full head of steam up, and th

packers ye hired are waiting on thwharf.”

Carroll rose and became in a momen



ntent and eager. “Tell him I’ll be down

almost as soon as he is,” he said. “You’l

have to excuse me.”

Two minutes later, he left the house, and

fervent good wishes followed him fro

he party on the stoop. He did not stop t

acknowledge them, but shortly afterwardhe blast of a whistle came ringing acros

he roofs from beside the water-front.



CHAPTER XXX—CONVINCING

TESTIMONY.

One afternoon three or four days afte

Carroll had sailed, Evelyn sat alone i

Mrs. Nairn’s drawing-room, a prey to

confused regrets and keen anxiety. She harecovered from the first shock caused b

Carroll’s news, but though she could fac

he situation more calmly, she could find

no comfort anywhere—Vane was lyinghelpless and famishing, in the frost-boun

wilderness. She knew she loved the man

ndeed, she had really known it for som

ime, and it was that which had madJessie’s revelation so bitter. Now

fastidious in thought and feeling as sh

was, she wondered if she had been to

hard upon him; it was becoming more an



more difficult to believe that he coul

have justified her disgust and anger, bu

his was not what troubled her most. Sh

had sent him away with cold disfavour; hwas threatened by many dangers; it wa

horrible to think of what might befall hi

before assistance arrived, and yet sh

could not drive the haunting dread out oher mind.

She was in this mood when a mai

announced that two visitors wished to seher; and when they were shown in, sh

found it difficult to hide her astonishmen

as she recognised in Kitty the ver

attractive girl she had once seen in Vane’s

company. It was this which prompted he

o assume a chilling manner, though sh

asked her guests to be seated. Neither o



hem appeared altogether at her ease, an

here was, indeed, a rather ominou

sparkle in Kitty’s blue eyes. The latte

began the conversation.

“Mr. Carroll was in town not long ago,

she said. “Have you had any news of hi

since he sailed?”

Evelyn did not know what to make of th

question, and she answered coldly: “No

we do not expect any word for somime.”

“I’m sorry,” said Kitty. “We’re anxious

about Mr. Vane.”

On the surface, the announcemen

appeared significant, but the girls



boldness in coming to her for news wa

unexplainable to Evelyn. Puzzled as sh

was, her attitude became mor

discouraging.

“You know him, then?” she said.

Something in her tone made Celia’cheeks burn and she drew herself up.

“Yes,” she said; “we know him, both o

us; I guess it’s astonishing to you; but I mehim first when he was poor, and gettin

rich hasn’t spoiled Mr. Vane.”

Evelyn was once more puzzled—the girl’manner savoured less of assurance than o

wholesome pride which had been injured

Kitty, however, broke in:



“We had no cards to send in; but I’m

Kathleen Blake, and this is Celia Hartle

—it was her father sent Mr. Vane off to

ook for the spruce.”

“Ah!” said Evelyn, a little more gently

addressing Celia; “I understand you

father died.”

Kitty flashed a commanding glance a

Celia, who spoke: “Yes; that is correct

He left me ill and worn out, without dollar, and I don’t know what I should

have done if Mr. Vane hadn’t insisted on

giving Drayton a little money for me, o

account, he said, because I was a partne

n the venture. Then Miss Horsfield go

me some work to do at home among he

friends. Mr. Vane must have asked her to



t would be like him.”

Evelyn sat silent for a few moments. Celi

had given her a good deal of information answer to a very simple remark; but sh

was most impressed by the statement tha

Jessie, who had prejudiced her agains

Vane, had helped the girl at his request. Iwas difficult to believe she would hav

done so had there been any foundation fo

her insinuations. If Celia spoke the truth

and Evelyn somehow felt this was thcase, the whole thing was extraordinary.

“Now,” said Celia, “it’s no way

surprising I’m grateful to Mr. Vane and

anxious to hear if Mr. Carroll has reached

him.” This was spoken with a hint o

defiance, but the girl’s voice changed. “



am anxious. It’s horrible to think of a ma

ike him freezing in the bush.”

Her concern was so genuine and yesomehow so innocent that Evelyn’s hear

softened.

“Yes,” she said; “it’s dreadful.” Then sheasked a question: “Who’s the Mr. Drayton

you mentioned?”

Kitty blushed becomingly; this was heead. “He’s a kind of partner in the lumbe

scheme; I’m going to marry him. He’s a

firm a friend of Mr. Vane’s as any one

There’s a reason for that—I was in a veryight place once, left without money in

desolate settlement where there wa

nothing I could do, when Mr. Vane helped



me. But, perhaps, that wouldn’t interes

you.”

For a moment her doubts still clung their hold in Evelyn’s mind; and then sh

suddenly drove the last of them out, with

stinging sense of humiliation. She coul

not distrust this girl; it was Jessie’suggestion that was incredible.

“It would interest me very much,” sh

said.

Kitty told her story effectively, but wit

caution, laying most stress upon Vane’

compassion for the child and her invalimother. She was rather impressed by Mis

Chisholm, but she supposed the latter wa

endowed with some of the failing



common to human nature.

Evelyn listened to her with confuse

emotions and a softened face. She waconvinced of the truth of the simple tale

and the thought of Vane’s keeping his

monied friends and directors waiting i

Vancouver in order that a tired child mighrest and gather shells upon a sunny beac

stirred her deeply. It was so

characteristic; exactly what she woul

have expected him to do.

“Thank you,” she said quietly when Kitt

had finished; and then, flinging off the las

of her reserve, she asked a number o

questions about Drayton and Celia’

affairs. Before her visitors left all thre

were on friendly terms, but Evelyn wa



glad when they took their departure.

She wanted to be alone to think, though, i

spite of the relief she was conscious ofher thoughts were far from pleasant, an

foremost among them figured a crushin

sense of shame. She had wickedl

misjudged a man who had given her manproofs of the fineness of his character; th

evil she had imputed to him was born o

her own perverted imagination. She wa

no better than the narrow-mindedconventional Pharisees she detested, wh

were swift to condemn out of th

uncleanness of their self-righteous hearts

Then, as she began to reason, it flashe

upon her that she was, perhaps, wrongin

herself. Her mind had been cunningl

poisoned by an utterly unscrupulous an



wholly detestable woman, and she flame

out into a fit of imperious anger agains

Jessie. She had a hazy idea that this wa

not altogether reasonable, since she wao some extent fastening the blame sh

deserved upon another person; but it di

not detract from the comfort th

ndulgence in her indignation brought her.

When she had grown calmer, Mrs. Nair

came in, and Mrs. Nairn was a discernin

ady. It was not difficult to lead Evelyn oo speak of her visitors, for the girl’

pride was broken and she felt in urgen

need of sympathy; but when she ha

described the interview she felt impelle

o avoid any discussion of its mor

mportant issues.



“I was surprised at the girl’s manner,” she

concluded. “It must have bee

embarrassing to them; but they were reall

so delicate over it, and they had so muccourage.”

Mrs. Nairn smiled. “Although one ha

ravelled with third-rate strollincompanies and the other has waited in a

hotel? Weel, maybe your surprise wa

natural. Ye cannot all at once get rid of the

deas and prejudices ye were brought uwith.”

“I suppose that was it,” said Evely

houghtfully.

Her companion’s eyes twinkled. “Then, i

ye’re to live among us happily, ye’ll hav



o try. In the way ye use the words, som

of the leading men in this country were n

brought up at all.”

“Do you imagine that I’m going to liv

here?”

Mrs. Nairn gathered up one or twarticles she had brought into the room wit

her and moved towards the door, bu

before she reached it she looked back a

he girl.

“It occurred to me that the thing was n

altogether impossible,” she said.

An hour afterwards, Evelyn went dow

nto the town with her, and in one of th

streets they came upon Jessie leaving



store. The latter was not lacking i

assurance and she moved forward to mee

hem, but Evelyn gazed at her with a tota

disregard of her presence and walkequietly on. There was neither anger no

disdain in her attitude; to have show

either would have been a concession sh

could not make. The instincts ogenerations of gently-reare

Englishwomen were aroused, as well a

he revulsion of an untainted nature fro

something unclean.

Jessie’s cheeks turned crimson and

malevolent light flashed into her eyes a

she crossed the street. Mrs. Nairn notice

her expression and smiled at he

companion.



“I’m thinking it’s as weel ye met Jessi

after she had got the boat for Carroll,” sh

said.

The remark was no doubt justified, but th

fact that Jessie had been able to offe

valuable assistance failed to soften Evely

owards her. It was merely anotheoffence.

n the meanwhile the tug had steame

northwards, towing the sloop whicwould be required, and, after landing th

rescue party at the inlet, steamed awa

again. Before she had disappeared Carrol

began his march, and his companions lon

remembered it. Two of them were

accustomed to packing surveyors’ store

hrough the seldom-trodden bush, and th



others had worked in logging camps an

chopped new roads; but though they di

not spare themselves, they lacked thei

eader’s stimulus. Carroll, with all hiove of ease, could rise to meet a

emergency, and he wore out hi

companions before the journey was hal

done. He scarcely let them sleep; he fehem on canned stuff to save delay i

ighting fires, and he grew more feverishl

mpatient with every mile they made. H

showed it chiefly by the tight set of hi

ips and the tension in his face, thoug

now and then, when fallen branches o

hickets barred the way, he fell upon thobstacles with the axe in silent fury. Fo

he rest, he took the lead and kept it, an

he others, following with shoulder

aching from the pack straps, and laboure



breath, suppressed their protests.

Like many another made in that country, i

was an heroic journey, one in which mindand body were taxed to the limit. Dela

might prove fatal; the loads were heavy

Fatigue seized the shrinking flesh, but th

unrelenting will, trained in sucadventures, mercilessly spurred it on

Toughened muscle is useful and in the

rackless North can seldom be dispense

with; but man’s strength does not consisof that alone; there are occasions when th

stalwart fall behind and die.

n front of them, as they progressed, la

he unchanging forest, tangled, choke

with fallen wreckage, laced here and ther

with stabbing thorns; appalling and almos



mpenetrable to the stranger. They mus

cleave their passage, except where the

could take to the creek for an easier wa

and wade through stingingly cold water oflounder over slippery fangs of rock an

ce-encrusted stones. There was shar

frost among the ranges and the brush the

broke through was generally burdenewith clogging snow. They went on

however, and on the last day Carroll drew

away from those who followed him. I

was dark when he discovered that he ha

ost them, but that did not matter, for now

and then faint moonlight came filterin

down and he was leaving a plain traibehind. His shoulders were bleedin

beneath the biting straps; he was on th

verge of exhaustion; but he struggle

forward, panting heavily, and rending hi



garments to rags as he smashed through th

brakes in the darkness.

The night—it seemed a very long one—was nearly over, when he recognised th

roar of a rapid that rang in louder an

ouder pulsations across the snow

sprinkled bush. He was not far from thend now, and he became conscious of a

unnerving fear. The ground was ascendin

sharply and when he reached the top of th

slope the question he shrank from woulbe answered for him; if there was no blin

of light among the serried trunks, he woul

have come too late.

He reached the summit and his hear

umped; then he clutched at a droopin

branch to support himself, shaken by



reaction that sprang from relief. A flicke

of uncertain radiance fell upon the tree

ahead and down the bitter wind ther

came the reek of pungent smoke. Aftehat, for the bush was slightly more open

Carroll believed he ran, and presentl

came crashing and stumbling into the ligh

of the fire. Then he stopped, too stirreand out of breath to speak, for Vane lay

where the red glow fell upon his face

smiling up at him.

“Well,” he said, “you’ve come. I’ve been

expecting you, but on the whole I got alon

not so badly.”

Carroll flung off his pack and sat dow

beside the fire; then he fumbled for hi

pipe and began to fill it hurriedly wit



rembling fingers.

“Sorry I couldn’t get through sooner,” h

explained. “The stores on board the sloowere spoiled; I had to go on to Vancouver

But there are things to eat in my pack.”

“Hand it across,” said Vane. “I haven’been faring sumptuously the last few days

o, sit still; I’m supple enough from th

waist up.”

He proved it by the way he leaned to an

fro as he opened the pack and distribute

part of its contents among the cookin

utensils, while Carroll, who assisted nowand then, did not care to speak. The sigh

of the man’s gaunt face and the eagernes

n his eyes prompted him to an outbreak o



feeling which was rather foreign to hi

nature and which he did not think Vane

would appreciate. When the meal wa

ready, the latter looked up at him.

“I’ve no doubt this journey cost yo

something, partner,” he said.

Then they ate cheerfully, and Carroll, who

watched his friend’s efforts wit

appreciation, told his story in broke

sentences—sometimes with his moutrather full, for he had not troubled abou

much cooking since he left the inlet

Afterwards, they lighted their pipes, bu

by and by Carroll’s fell from his relaxin

grasp.

“I can’t get over this sleepiness,” h



explained. “I believe I disgraced myself i

Vancouver by going off in the mos

unsuitable places.”

“I dare say it was natural,” said Vane with

some dryness. “Anyway, hadn’t you bette

hitch yourself a little farther from th

fire?”

Carroll did so and lay still afterwards, bu

Vane kept watch during the rest of the

night, until in the dawn the packerappeared.



CHAPTER XXXI—VANE IS

REINSTATED.

Breakfast was over and the two men

wrapped in blankets, lay on opposit

sides of the fire. Now that they had

supply of provisions, haste was not matter of importance, and the rescue part

needed a rest. Carroll was aching all ove

his body and somewhat disturbed in mind

because he had not said anything abouheir financial affairs to his comrade yet

and the subject must be mentioned.

“What about the Clermont?” Vane asked aength. “You needn’t trouble abou

breaking the news; come right to th

point.”





for the shares.”

He lay smoking silently for a few minute

after Carroll told him, and the latter wastrongly moved to sympathy since h

hought it was not his financial reverse bu

one indirect result of it which would hi

his comrade hardest.

“Well,” said Vane grimly, “I suppose I’ve

done what my friends would consider

mad thing in coming up here, and I musface the reckoning.”

Carroll wondered if their conversatio

could be confined to the surface of thsubject, because there were depths i

would be better to leave undisturbed.



“After all, you’re far from broke,” he sai

as cheerfully as he could. “You have wha

he Clermont stock brought in, and yo

may make something out of this shinglesplitting scheme.”

There was bitterness in Vane’s laugh

“When I left Vancouver for England, I wagenerally supposed to be well on the wa

o affluence, and there was som

foundation for the idea. I had floated th

Clermont in the face of opposition; peoplbelieved in me; I could have raised wha

dollars I required for any new

undertaking. Now a good deal of m

money and my prestige is gone: folks hav

very little confidence in a man who ha

shown himself a failure. Besides, I may b

a cripple.”



Carroll could guess his companion’

houghts. There was a vein of stubbor

pride in him, and he had, no doub

decided it was unfitting that Evelyn’future should be linked to that of a ruine

man. This was an exaggerated view

because Vane was in reality far from

ruined, and even if he had been so, he han him the ability to recover from hi

misfortunes. Still, the man was obstinat

and generally ready to make a sacrific

for an idea. Carroll, however, consoled

himself with the reflection that Evely

would probably have something to sa

upon the subject if she were given aopportunity, and he thought Mrs. Nair

would contrive that she had one.

“I can’t see any benefit in making thing



out as considerably worse than they are,

he said.

“Nor can I,” Vane agreed. “After all, was getting pretty tired of the city, and

suppose I can raise enough to put up

small-power mill. It will be a pleasan

change to take charge for a year or two ihe bush. I’ll make a start at the thing a

soon as I’m able to walk.”

This was significant, because it impliehat he did not intend to remain i

Vancouver, where he would have been

able to enjoy Evelyn’s company; bu

Carroll made no comment, and by and b

Vane spoke again.

“Didn’t you mention last night that it wa



hrough Miss Horsfield you got the tug?

he asked. “I was thinking about somethin

else at the time.”

“Yes,” said Carroll. “She made Horsfield

put some pressure on the people who ha

previously hired the boat.”

“Ah!” said Vane, “that’s rather strange.”

For a moment he looked puzzled, bu

almost immediately his face grewmpassive, and Carroll knew that he ha

some idea of Jessie’s treachery. He was

however, sure that any suspicions hi

comrade entertained would remain lockeup in his breast.

“I’m grateful to her, anyway,” the latte



resumed. “I believe I could have held ou

another day or two, but it wouldn’t hav

been pleasant.”

Carroll began to talk about th

preparations for their return, which h

soon afterwards set about making, an

early next morning they started for thsloop, carrying Vane upon a stretcher they

had brought. Though they had to cut

passage for it every here and there, the

reached the vessel safely, and after somrouble in getting him below and on to

ocker, Carroll decided to sail straight fo

Vancouver. They were favoured with

moderate fair winds, and though the boa

was uncomfortably crowded, she made

quick passage and stole in through th

arrows as dusk was closing down on



ranquil evening.

As it happened, Evelyn had spent part o

he afternoon on the forest-crested risabove the city, up which new dwelling

were then creeping, though they have, n

doubt, spread beyond it and back into th

bush by now. From there she could loodown upon the inlet and she had visite

he spot frequently during the last few

days, watching eagerly for a sail that di

not appear. There had been no news oCarroll since the skipper of the tu

reported having landed him, and the gir

was tormented by doubts and anxieties

She had just come back and was standin

n Mrs. Nairn’s sitting-room, when sh

heard the tinkle of the telephone bell. A

moment or two later her hostess entere



hastily.

“It’s a message from Alec,” she cried

“He’s heard from the wharf: Vane’ssloop’s crossing the harbour. I’ll away

down to see Carroll brings him here.”

Evelyn turned to follow her, buMrs. Nairn waved her back. “No,” sh

said firmly, “ye’ll bide where ye are. Se

hey get plenty lights on—at the stair-hea

and in the passage—and the room on theft of it ready.”

She was gone in another moment an

Evelyn, who carried out her instructionsafterwards waited with what patience sh

could assume. At last there was a rattle o

wheels outside, followed by a voic



giving orders, and then a tramp of feet

The sounds brought her a strange inwar

shrinking, but she ran to the door, and saw

wo tattered men awkwardly carrying stretcher up the steps, while Carroll an

another assisted them. Then the light fel

upon its burden, and half prepared as sh

was, she started in dismay. Vane, whomshe had last seen in vigorous health, la

partly covered with an old blanket whic

had slipped off him to the waist, and hi

acket looked a mass of rags. His hat ha

fallen aside, and his face showed hollow

and worn and pinched. Then he saw he

and a light sprang into his eyes, but nexmoment Carroll’s shoulder hid him, and

he men plodded on towards the stairs

They ascended them with difficulty, and

he girl waited until Carroll came down.



“I noticed you at the door, and I expec

you were a little shocked at the change i

Vane,” he said. “What he has undergone

has pulled him down, but if you had seehim when I first found him, you’d hav

been worse startled. He’s getting on quit

satisfactorily.”

Evelyn was relieved to hear it; bu

Carroll, who had paused, continued: “A

soon as the doctor comes, we’ll make hi

more presentable; but as I’m not surabout the last bandages I put on, he can’

be moved till then. Afterwards, he’ll no

doubt hold an audience.”

There was nothing to do but wait, an

Evelyn again summoned her patience

Before long a doctor arrived, and Carrol



followed him to Vane’s room alone. The

atter’s face was very impassive, thoug

Carroll waited in tense suspense while th

doctor stripped off the bandages and barsupports from the injured leg. H

examined it attentively, and then looked

round at Carroll.

“You fixed that limb when it was broken

n the bush?” he said.

“Yes,” said Carroll, with a desperateattempt to treat the matter humourously

“But I really think we both had a hand i

he thing. My partner favoured me with hi

views; I disclaim some of th

responsibility.”

“Then I guess you’ve been remarkabl



fortunate, which is perhaps the best wa

of expressing it.”

Vane raised his head and fixed his eyeupon the speaker. “It won’t have to b

rebroken? I’ll be able to walk without

imp?”

“I should say the latter’s very probable.”

Vane’s eyes glistened and he let his head

fall back.

“It’s good news; better than I expected

ow if you could fix me up again, I’d lik

o get dressed. I’ve felt like a hobo lonenough.”

The doctor nodded indulgently. “We can

venture to change that state of affairs, bu



’ll superintend the operation.”

t was some time before Vane’s toilet wa

completed, and then Carroll surveyed hiwith humorous admiration.

“You do us credit, and now I suppose

can announce that you’ll receive?” hsaid.

airn and his wife and Evelyn came in

and the former, who shook hands witVane very heartily, afterwards looked

down at him with twinkling eyes.

“I’d have been glad to see ye, however yhad come,” he said, and Vane fully

believed him. “For a’ that, this is no the

way I could have wished to welcome ye.”



“When a man won’t take his friends

advice, what can he expect?” said Vane.

“Let it be a warning. If the making of youmark and dollars is your object, ye mus

stick to it and think of nothing else. Ye

cannot accumulate riches by spreadin

yourself, and philanthropy’s no lucrativeexcept maybe to a few.”

“It’s good counsel, but I’m thinking that’

a pity,” his wife remarked. “What wouldye say, Evelyn?”

The girl was aware that the tone of ligh

banter had been adopted to cover deepefeelings, which those present shrank fro

expressing; but she ventured to give he

houghts free rein.





others had chosen, made him an ironica

bow, but Evelyn was not to be deterred.

“It was foolish of you to be troubled,” shdeclared. “It isn’t a fault to be wounded i

an honourable fight, and even if the mar

remains there is no reason why one shoul

be ashamed of it.”

Mrs. Nairn glanced at the girl rathe

sharply, but Carroll came to hi

comrade’s assistance.

“Strictly speaking, there wasn’t a wound,

he pointed out. “Fortunately it was what i

known as a simple fracture. If it had beeanything else, I’m inclined to think

couldn’t have treated it.”



airn chuckled, as if this met with hi

approval, but his wife turned round an

hey heard a patter of footsteps on th

stairs.

“Yon bell has kept on ringing since we

came up,” she said. “I left word I was n

o be disturbed. Weel”—as the dooopened—“what is it, Minnie?”

“The reception-room’s plumb full,

announced the maid, who was lately frohe bush. “If any more folks come along,

won’t know where to put them.”

ow the door was open, Evelyn coulhear a murmur of voices on the floo

below, and next moment the bell ran

violently again, which struck her as



estimonial to the injured man. Vane had

not spent a long time in Vancouver, but he

had the gift of making friends. Havin

heard of the sloop’s arrival, they hadcome to inquire for him, and there wa

obviously a number of them.

Mrs. Nairn glanced interrogatively aCarroll. “It does not look as if they coul

be got rid of by a message.”

“I guess he’s fit to see them,” Carrolanswered. “We’ll hold the levée. If he’d

only let me, I’d like to pose him a bit.”

Mrs. Nairn, with Evelyn’s assistance, didso instead, rearranging the cushions abou

he man, in spite of his confused and half

ndignant protests; and during the next hal



hour the room was generally full. Peopl

walked in, made sympathetic inquiries, o

exchanged cheerful banter, unti

Mrs. Nairn forcibly dismissed the last ohem. After this she declared that Vane

must go to sleep, and paying no heed to hi

assertion that he had not the least wish t

do so, she led her remaining companionaway.

A couple of hours had passed when sh

handed Evelyn a large tumbler containina preparation of whipped-up eggs an

milk.

“Ye might take him this and ask if he

would like anything else,” she said. “I’

weary of the stairs and I would not trus

Minnie. She’s handiest at spilling things.”





desire to combat it. That she might b

compelled to follow an unconventiona

course did not matter. This man was her

—and she could not let him go.

She entered his room collectedly. He wa

ying, neatly dressed, upon a couch, wit

his shoulders raised against the end of itfor he had thrown the cushions which ha

supported him upon the floor. As she cam

n, he leaned down in an attempt t

recover them, and finding himself too lateooked up guiltily. The fact that he could

move with so much freedom was

comfort to the girl. She set down the tra

on a table near him.

“Mrs. Nairn has sent you this,” she said

and the laugh they both indulged in drew



hem together.

Then her mood changed, and her hear

yearned over him. He had gone away strong, self-confident, prosperous man

and he had come back defeated; broken i

health and fortune and terribly worn. He

pity shone in her softening eyes.

“Do you wish to sleep?” she asked.

“No,” Vane assured her; “I’d a good deasooner talk to you.”

“Well,” said Evelyn, “I have something to

say. I’m afraid I was rather unpleasant toyou the evening before you sailed. I wa

sorry for it afterwards; it was flagran

njustice.”



“Then I wonder why you didn’t answe

he letter I wrote at Nanaimo.”

“For a very good reason; I never got it.”

Vane considered this for a few moments

“After all,” he said, “it doesn’t matte

now. I’m acquitted?”

“Absolutely.”

“Do you know,” he said, “I’ve still nodea of my offence?”

Evelyn was exceedingly glad to hear it

but a warmth crept into her face, and ahe blood showed through the delicate ski

he fixed his eyes intently upon her.

“It was all a mistake; I’m sorry still,” sh



declared penitently.

“Oh,” he said in a different tone; “

wouldn’t trouble about it. The satisfactioof being acquitted outweighs everythin

else. Besides, I’ve made a number o

rather serious mistakes myself. The searc

for that spruce, for instance, is supposeo be one.”

“No,” said Evelyn decidedly; “whoeve

hinks that is wrong. It is a very fine thinyou have done. It doesn’t matter in th

east that you were unsuccessful.”

“You believe that?”

“Of course. How could I believe anythin

else?”



The man’s face changed again, and onc

more she read the signs. Whatever doubt

and half-formed resolutions—and she ha

some idea of them—had been working ihis mind were dissipating.

“Well,” he said, “I’ve sacrificed the bes

of my possessions and destroyed thconfidence of folks who, to serve thei

ends, would have helped me on. Isn’t tha

a serious thing?”

“No; it’s really a most unimportant one

”—and the slight pause gave the assertio

force—“I really mean it.”

Vane partly raised himself with one arm

and there was no doubting the significanc

of his intent gaze.



“I believe I made another blunder—i

England. I should have had more courag

and have faced the risk. But you migh

have turned against me then.”

“I don’t think that’s likely,” said Evelyn

owering her eyes.

The man leaned forward towards her, bu

he hand he stretched out fell short, and th

rivial fact once more roused he

compassion for his helplessness.

“You can only mean one thing,” he said

“You wouldn’t be afraid to face the future

with me now?”

“I wouldn’t be afraid at all,” said Evely

quietly.



By and by Mrs. Nairn tapped at the doo

and smiled rather broadly when she cam

n; then she shook her head in reproach.

“Ye should have been asleep a while

since,” she said to Vane, and turned to

Evelyn. “Is this the way ye intend to loo

after him?”

She waved the girl towards the door an

when she joined her in the passage kisse

her effusively.

“Ye’ve got the man I would have chosen

for ye,” she said.

THE END.

London: Ward, Lock & Co., Ltd.



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1 Lawrence ClaveringA. E. W.Mason

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10 A Study in ScarletA. Conan

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12 To LeewardF. Marion

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65Lord Stranleigh

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Robert Barr

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Max

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