steam-yacht. She had been built for the useful purpose of towing
saw-logs, and was sold cheap when, as the mill she kept supplied grew
larger, she proved too small for it. Acton, however, was by no means a
fastidious person, and when he had fitted her with a little saloon,
and made a few primitive alterations below, he said she was quite good
enough for him. For that matter, anyone fond of it might navigate the
land-locked waters of Puget Sound and the Straits of Georgia in an
open whaleboat with satisfaction in summer-time. There are islands
everywhere, wonderful rock-walled inlets that one can sail into,
beaches to which the primeval forest comes rolling down, and always
above the blue waters tower tremendous ramparts of never-melting
snow.

On the evening in question, Acton was not on board. He had taken his
wife and guests ashore that morning for an excursion to a certain
river where there was excellent trout-fishing, and, as a hotel had
lately been built for the convenience of sportsmen visitors, it was
uncertain whether they would return that night. Nasmyth had not made
one of the party because there was scarcely room for everybody in the
gig, and six miles, which was the distance to the river mouth, was
rather far to row in the dinghy. Another guest called Martial also had
been left behind, and afterwards had been rowed ashore to visit a
ranching property somewhere in the neighbourhood. He was the man who
had followed Miss Hamilton out on to the veranda one night, and
Nasmyth, who did not like him, understood that he was connected with a
big land exploitation agency.

Nasmyth felt more or less contented with everything, as he lay upon
the _Tillicum's_ deck listening to the faint murmur of the swell upon
the boulder beach. He had made certain propositions to the Crown lands
authorities, which he believed they would look into, and while he
waited he found the customs and luxuries of civilization pleasant. He
found the society of Violet Hamilton more pleasant still, and the
demeanour of the man, Martial, was almost the only thing that ruffled
him. Martial had constituted himself Miss Hamilton's special
attendant, and though Nasmyth fancied Mrs. Acton connived at this, it
was by no means as evident that the girl was pleased with it. Indeed,
he surmised that she liked the man as little as he did. Martial was
brusque in mariner, and, though that is not usually resented in
British Columbia, he now and then went even further than is considered
permissible in that country, and he had gained the sincere dislike of
the red-haired George, who acted as the _Tillicum's_ deck-hand, cook,
and skipper.

George sat upon the skylights sucking at his pipe, and it presently
became evident that his thoughts and Nasmyth's were very much alike.
There was nobody else on board, for the man who fired and drove the
engines was ashore.

"I guess you can catch trout?" the skipper remarked.

"Oh yes," answered Nasmyth indifferently. "As a matter of fact, I've
had to, when there was very little else to eat."

George, who was big and lank, and truculent in appearance, nodded.

"Juss so!" he rejoined. "You've been up against it in the Bush.
Anybody could figure on that by the look of you and the way you use
your hands. A city man takes holds of things as if they were going to
hurt him. That's kind of why I froze on to you."

Nasmyth took this as a compliment, and smiled his acknowledgment, for
George was a privileged person, and most of his recent companions held
democratic views. He, however, said nothing, and George went on
again.

"Mrs. Acton's a mighty smart woman, but she plays some fool tricks,"
he commented. "Where's the blame use in taking a boatload of folks
after trout when none of them but the boss knows how to fish?" Then he
chuckled. "You'd have gone with the rest this morning if she wanted
you to. Guess the gig would have carried another one quite nicely."

Nasmyth fancied that this was possible, though he naturally would not
admit it to his companion. The fact that his hostess had somewhat
cleverly contrived to leave him behind had its significance, since it
seemed to indicate that she recognized that Miss Hamilton regarded him
with a certain amount of favour.

"Well," said George reflectively, "the boss is quite smart, too! Mrs.
Acton crowded you out of the gig. The boss says nothing, but he knocks
off that blame Martial. That makes the thing even, and, unless he
does it, none of them gets any fish. Now, it kind of seems to me that
for a girl like Miss Hamilton to look at a man like Martial is a
throwing of herself away. I guess it strikes you like that, too?"

This was rather too pointed a question for Nasmyth to answer, but, so
far as it went, he could readily have agreed with the skipper. As a
matter of fact it suggested the query why he should object to Miss
Hamilton throwing herself away.

"Well," he observed, "I'm not quite sure that it's any concern of
mine."

George's grin was expressive of good-natured toleration. "Oh!" he
replied, "I guess that's plain enough for me. You're not going to talk
about the boss's friends. Still, one man's as good as another in this
country, and, if I wasn't way better than Martial, I'd drown myself.
That's the kind of pernicious insect a decent man has no use for.
What's he come on board for with three bags ram full of clothes, when
many a better man humps his outfit up and down the Bush in an old
blanket same as you have done? It's a sure thing that no man with a
conscience wants to get into the land agency business. It's an
institution for selling greensuckers ranching land that's rock and
gravel and virgin forest. Besides, I heard the blame insect telling
Miss Hamilton that nobody not raised in the hog-pen could drink my
coffee."

It seemed to Nasmyth that there was a little reason in the skipper's
observations, though he thought that Martial's strictures upon the
coffee accounted for most of them.

"I guess it might have been wiser if Martial had kept on good terms
with the skipper," he laughingly rejoined.

George chuckled softly. "Well," he declared, "when anyone up and says
my coffee's only fit for the hog-pen, I'm going to get even with him.
I kind of feel I have to. It's up to me."

He said nothing further for some little time, and Nasmyth, who fancied
that he would sooner or later carry out his amiable intentions, lay
prone upon the deck smoking placidly. Nasmyth was one who adapted
himself to his environment with readiness, and on board the _Tillicum_
the environment was particularly comfortable. Through Acton's
hospitality, he was brought into contact with the luxuries of
civilization without the galling restraints. Miss Hamilton had been
gracious to him of late. That was a cause for satisfaction in itself.
The days when he swung the heavy axe, or, drenched with icy water,
stood gripping the drill had slipped far away behind him. For the
time, at least, he could bask in the sunshine with ears stopped
against the shrill trumpet-call to action that he had heard in the
crash of rent trees and the turmoil of the wild flood.

A faint cry came from the shore out of the stillness of the woods, and
George listened carefully.

"That can't be the boss. Guess he's stopping at the hotel," he said.
"It's quite likely it's that blame insect Martial coming back. Those
ranchers he has been trying to freeze off their holding have no use
for him."

The cry rose again, a trifle louder, and George nodded complacently.

"Oh, yes," he exulted, "it's Martial sure! We'll let him howl. Any
way, he can walk down the beach until he's abreast of us. When anybody
expects me to hear him, he has got to come within half a mile."

It seemed to Nasmyth that Martial would not have a pleasant walk in
the dark, for most of the beach lay in the black shadow of the pines,
and beneath highwater mark was covered with the roughest kind of
boulders. Above the tide-line, a ragged mass of driftwood interspersed
with undergrowth separated the water from the tangled Bush. Both
George and Nasmyth were aware that one could readily tear one's
clothes to pieces in an attempt to struggle through such a labyrinth.
Judging by the shouts he uttered at intervals, Martial appeared to be
floundering along the beach, and presently Nasmyth laughed.

"He appears to be getting angry," he said. "After all, it's only
natural that he doesn't want to sleep in the woods all night."

George filled his pipe, apparently with quiet satisfaction, but, some
time later, he stood up suddenly with an exclamation.

"The blame contrary insect means swimming off," he announced.

Nasmyth, glancing shorewards, saw a dim white object crawling on
all-fours towards the water where the moonlight streamed down upon a
jutting point, and it was then that the idea which had results that
neither of them anticipated first dawned on the skipper, who broke
into a hoarse chuckle.

"I guess he wouldn't want Miss Hamilton to see him like that," he
said. "Some folks look considerably smarter with their clothes on."

"How's she going to see him when she isn't here?"

George grinned again. "Her dresses are, so's her hat and her little
mandolin. If you were pulled in tight you'd have quite a figure."

It was clear to Nasmyth that the scheme was workable, though he was
quite aware that the thing he was expected to do was a trifle
discreditable. Still, he had lived for some time in the Bush, where
his comrades' jests were not particularly delicate, and Martial once
or twice had been aggressively unpleasant to him. What was more to the
purpose, he felt reasonably sure that Miss Hamilton would be by no
means sorry to be free of Martial, and it was probable that their
victim would never relate his discomfiture, if their scheme
succeeded.

As the result of these reflections he went down with George to the
little saloon. The skipper, who left him there a few minutes, came
hack with an armful of feminine apparel. They had no great difficulty
in tying on the big hat with the veil, but when Nasmyth had stripped
his jacket off there was some trouble over the next proceeding.
Indeed, Derrick did not feel quite comfortable about appropriating
Miss Hamilton's garments, but he had committed himself, and it was
quite clear that his companion would not appreciate his reasons for
drawing back.

"Hold your breath while I get this blame hook in," said the skipper.

Nasmyth did so; but he could not continue to hold it indefinitely, and
in a few moments there was a suggestive crack, and George desisted in
evident dismay.

"Come adrift from the stiffening quite a strip of it," he said. "Well,
I guess I can somehow fix the thing up so as nobody will notice it. It
should be easier than putting a new cloth in a topsail, and I've a
mending outfit in the locker."

Nasmyth was by no means sure of George's ability to make the damage
good, but he permitted the skipper to tie on the loose skirt, and then
to hang the beribboned mandolin round his neck. When this was done
George surveyed him with a grin of satisfaction.

"Well," said George, "I guess you'll do. Now you'll keep behind the
skylights, and only get up and bang that mandolin when Martial wants
to come on board. Guess when he sees you he'll feel 'most like jumping
right out of his skin. Miss Hamilton's not going to mind. I've seen
her looking at him as if she'd like to stick a big hatpin into him."

They went up, and Nasmyth, who felt guilty as he crouched in the
shadow, could see a black head and the flash of a white arm that swung
out into the moonlight and disappeared again. Martial was swimming
pluckily, and the tide was with him, for his head grew larger every
minute, and presently the gleam of his skin became visible through the
pale shining of the brine. His face dipped as his left arm came out at
every stroke, and the water frothed as his feet swung together like a
flail. He paddled easily while the tide swept him on until he reached
the _Tillicum_. Then his voice rose, breathless and cautious.

"Anchor watch," he called. "Anybody else on board?"

George, who kept out of sight, did not answer. Martial called again.

"Don't let anybody out of the companion while I get up," he
commanded.

The _Tillicum_ had a high sheer forward, and he could not reach her
rail, but as the tide swept him along he raised himself to clutch at
it where it was lower abreast of the skylights.

"Now," said George softly, "you can play the band."

Nasmyth rose and swept his knife-haft across the strings of the
mandolin. For a moment he saw something like horror in Martial's wet
face, and then the man, who gasped, went down headforemost into the
water. Martial was nearly a dozen yards astern when his head came out
again, and he slid away with the tide, with his white arm swinging
furiously. George sat down upon the deck, and expressed his
satisfaction by drumming his feet upon the planking while he laughed.

"He's off," he said. "Might have a high-power engine inside of him.
Guess he's going to scare those schooner men 'most out of their lives.
It's quite likely they won't keep anchor watch when they're lying snug
in a place of this kind."

Nasmyth managed to control his laughter, and went down to divest
himself of his draperies. When he came up again, George reported that
he had just seen Martial crawling up the schooner's cable, and in
another few moments what appeared to be a howl of terror rose from
the vessel. It was not repeated, and shortly afterwards Nasmyth went
to sleep.

Martial remained on board the schooner that night, and Nasmyth was not
surprised when he failed to appear next morning. Acton had come back
with his party when a man dropped into the boat astern of the
schooner, and pulled towards the _Tillicum_ leisurely. Everybody was
on deck when he slid alongside, and, standing up in his boat, laid
hold of the rail.

"I've a message for Mr. Acton," he said, holding up a strip of paper.

Acton, who took the paper from him, was a trifle perplexed when he
glanced at it.

"It seems that Martial didn't stay at that ranch last night as I
thought he had done," he remarked.

Mrs. Acton, who sat next to Miss Hamilton, looked up sharply. She was
a tall woman with an authoritative manner.

"Where is he?" she inquired.

"Gone back to Victoria," said her husband, who handed her the note.
"It's kind of sudden, and he doesn't worry about saying why he went.
There's a little remark at the bottom that I don't quite like."

George naturally had been listening, and Nasmyth saw his subdued
grin, but he saw also Mrs. Acton's quick glance at Miss Hamilton,
which seemed to suggest that she surmised the girl could explain why
Martial had departed so unceremoniously. There was, however, only
astonishment, and, Nasmyth fancied, a trace of relief in Violet
Hamilton's face. Mrs. Acton turned to her husband with a flush of
resentment in her eyes.

"I should scarcely have believed Mr. Martial would ever write such a
note," she said. "What does he mean when he says that he does not
appreciate being left to sleep in the woods all night?"

"That," answered Acton, "is what I don't quite understand. If he'd
hailed anchor watch loud enough, George would have gone off for him.
Still, we're lying quite a way out from the beach."

Then he remembered the man from the schooner, who still gripped the
rail.

"How did you come to get this note?" he asked.

"The man who came off last night gave it to the skipper," said the
schooner's deck-hand with a very suggestive grin.

"How'd he come off?" Acton asked. "Did you go ashore for him?"

"We didn't!" said the man. "He must have swum off and crawled up the
cable. Any way, when he struck the skipper he hadn't any clothes on
him."

There was a little murmur of astonishment, and Mrs. Acton straightened
herself suddenly, while Nasmyth saw a gleam of amusement creep into
Acton's eyes. The schooner man evidently felt that he had an
interested audience, for he leaned upon the rail as he began to tell
all he knew about the incident.

"I was asleep forward, when the skipper howled as if he was most
scared out of his life," he said. "I got up out of the scuttle just as
quick as I could, and there he was crawling round behind the
stern-house with an axe in his hand, and the mate flat up against the
rail.

"'Shut that slide quick,' says the skipper. 'Shut it. He's crawling up
the ladder.'

"'I guess you can shut it yourself if you want it shut.' He asked for
whisky. 'Tell him where it is,' says the mate."

There was no doubt that the listeners were interested, and the man
made an impressive gesture. "It was kind of scaring. There was a soft
flippety-flop going on in the stern-house, and I slipped out a
handspike. Then the skipper sees me.

"'There's a drowned man crawling round the cabin with water running
off him,' he says.

"Then a head came out of the scuttle and a wet arm, and a voice that
didn't sound quite like a drowned man's says, 'Oh you----'"

Acton raised his arm restrainingly, and the narrator made a sign of
comprehension.

"He called us fools," the man explained, "and for 'most a minute the
skipper was going to take the axe to him. Then he hove it at the mate
for being scared instead, and they all went down together, and I heard
them light the stove. After that I went back and dropped off to sleep,
and the skipper sent me off at sun-up to fetch the stranger's clothes.
We set him ashore as soon as he'd got some breakfast into him."

The man rowed away in another minute or two, and, as he had evidently
told his story with a relish, Nasmyth wondered whether Martial had
contrived to offend him by endeavouring to purchase his silence. There
are, of course, men one can offer a dollar to on that coast, but such
an act requires a certain amount of circumspection.

Acton's eyes twinkled, and the men who were his guests looked at one
another meaningly.

"Well," answered one of them, "I guess there is an explanation, though
I didn't think Martial was that kind of man."

Nasmyth said nothing, but he saw Mrs. Acton's face flush with anger
and disdain, and surmised that it was most unlikely that she would
forgive the unfortunate Martial. The women in the party evidently felt
that it would not be advisable to say anything further about the
matter, and when George broke out the anchor the _Tillicum_ steamed
away.

It was after supper that night, and there was nobody except the
helmsman on deck, when Miss Hamilton approached the forward scuttle
where Nasmyth sat with his pipe in his hand. Nasmyth rose and spread
out an old sail for her, and she sat down a little apart from him. The
_Tillicum_ was steaming northwards at a leisurely six knots, with her
mastheads swaying rhythmically through the soft darkness, and a
deep-toned gurgling at her bows. By-and-by Nasmyth became conscious
that Miss Hamilton was looking at him, and, on the whole, he was glad
that it was too dark for her to see him very well.

"I wonder if you were very much astonished at what you heard about Mr.
Martial?" she asked.

"Well," said Nasmyth reflectively, "in one way at least, I certainly
was. You see, I did not think Martial was, as our friend observed,
that kind of man. In fact, I may admit that I feel reasonably sure of
it still."

"I suppose you felt you owed him that?"

"I didn't want to leave you under a misapprehension."

There was silence for half a minute, and then Nasmyth turned towards
the girl again.

"You are still a little curious about the affair?" he suggested.

"I am. I may mention that I found a certain dress of mine, which I do
not remember tearing, had evidently been repaired by somebody quite
unaccustomed to that kind of thing. Now there were, of course, only
the skipper and yourself on board while we were away."

Nasmyth felt his face grow hot. "Well," he replied, "if it's any
consolation to you, I am quite prepared, in one respect at least, to
vindicate Martial's character. In any case, I think I shall have an
interview with Mrs. Acton to-morrow."

His heart beat a little faster, for the girl laughed.

"It really wouldn't be any consolation at all to me," she admitted.

"Ah," said Nasmyth, "then, although you may have certain fancies, you
are not dreadfully vexed with me?"

Violet Hamilton appeared to reflect. "Considering everything, I almost
think you can be forgiven."

After that, they talked about other matters for at least an hour,
while the _Tillicum_, with engines throbbing softly, crept on through
the darkness, and Acton, who happened to notice them as he lounged
under the companion scuttle with a cigar in his hand, smiled
significantly. Acton had a liking for Nasmyth, and though he was not
sure that Mrs. Acton would have been pleased had she known where Miss
Hamilton was, the matter was, he reflected, after all, no concern of
his.

CHAPTER XVI

ACTON'S WARNING

It was with somewhat natural misgivings, the next afternoon, that
Nasmyth strolled forward along the _Tillicum's_ deck toward the place
where Mrs. Acton was sitting. Immaculately dressed, as usual, she
reclined in a canvas chair with a book, which she had been reading,
upon her knee. As Nasmyth approached her he became conscious that she
was watching him with a curious expression in her keen, dark eyes. The
steamer had dropped anchor in a little land-locked bay, and Nasmyth
had just come back in the dinghy, after rowing one or two of the party
ashore. Mrs. Acton indicated with a movement of her hand that he might
sit upon the steamer's rail, and then, turning towards him, looked at
him steadily. She was a woman of commanding personality, and
imperiously managed her husband's social affairs. If he had permitted
it, she probably would have undertaken, also, to look after his
commercial interests.

"I wonder why you decided not to visit the Indian settlement with the
others?" she inquired.

Nasmyth smiled. "I have been in many places of the kind," he answered.
"Besides, there is something I think I ought to tell you."

"I almost fancied that was the case."

"Then I wonder if you have connected me with Martial's disappearance?"

"I may admit that my husband evidently has."

"He told you, then?" And Nasmyth realized next moment that the faint
astonishment he had displayed was not altogether tactful.

"No," said Mrs. Acton, with a smile, "he did not. That was, I think,
what made me more sure of it. James Acton can maintain a judicious
silence when it appears advisable, and there are signs that he rather
likes you."

Nasmyth bowed. "I should be very pleased to hear that you shared his
views in this respect," he observed.

"I am, in the meanwhile, somewhat naturally rather uncertain upon the
point," she returned.

"Well," confessed Nasmyth humbly, "I believe I am largely responsible
for your guest's sudden disappearance. It was, of course, almost
inexcusable, and I could not complain if you were very angry with
me."

"I should, at least, like to know exactly what you did."

"That," said Nasmyth, "is a thing I would sooner you did not urge me
to explain. After all, I feel I have done Martial sufficient injury,
and I do not think he would like you to know. There are," he added
somewhat diffidently, "one or two other reasons why I should prefer
not to say anything further, but I would like to assure you that the
explanation one of your friends suggested is not the correct one. I
ventured to make this, at least, clear to Miss Hamilton."

Mrs. Acton regarded him with a suggestive smile. "Mr. Martial was not
effusively pleasant to you. The affair was premeditated?"

"My one excuse is that the thing was done on the spur of the moment. I
should never have undertaken it if I had reflected." Nasmyth made a
gesture of submission. "I am in your hands."

Mrs. Acton sat silent for perhaps a minute gazing at the woods that
swept round three sides of the little bay. Great cedars and pines and
hemlocks rolled down to the water's edge, and the stretch of smooth
green brine between them and the steamer flashed like a mirror.

"Well," she said, after a long pause, "I must admit that at first I
was angry with you. Now"--and her eyes grew a bit scornful--"I am
angry with Martial, instead. In fact, I think I shall wash my hands of
him. I have no sympathy with a man who allows himself to be placed in
a ludicrously painful position that reflects upon his friends."

"Especially when he has the privilege of your particular favour,"
added Nasmyth.

Mrs. Acton laughed. "That," she returned, "was a daring observation.
It, at least, laid a certain obligation on Martial to prove it
warranted, which he has signally failed to do. I presume you know why
he took some little pains to make himself unpleasant to you?"

Nasmyth fancied that she was really angry with Martial, and that he
understood her attitude. She was a capable, strong-willed woman, and
had constituted herself the ally of the unfortunate man who had
brought discredit on her by permitting himself to be shamefully driven
from the field. It was also evident that she resented the fact that a
guest from her husband's yacht should have been concerned in any
proceedings of the nature that the schooner's deck-hand had
described.

"I think I suspect why he was not cordial to me," Nasmyth admitted.
"Still, the inference is so flattering that one would naturally feel a
little diffident about believing that Martial's suppositions were
correct."

"That," replied Mrs. Acton, "was tactfully expressed." She looked at
the young man fixedly, and her next remark was characterized by the
disconcerting frankness which is not unusual in the West. "Mr.
Nasmyth," she said, "unless you have considerable means of your own,
it would be wiser of you to put any ideas of the kind you have hinted
at right out of your head."

"I might, perhaps, ask you for one or two reasons why I should adopt
the course you suggest."

"You shall have them. Violet Hamilton is a lady with possessions, and
I look upon her as a ward of my own. Any way, her father and mother
are dead, and they were my dearest friends."

"Ah," agreed Nasmyth, "that naturally renders caution advisable. Well,
I am in possession of three or four hundred dollars, and a project
which I would like to believe may result to my advantage financially.
Still, that is a thing I cannot be very sure about."

Mrs. Acton gazed at him thoughtfully. "Your uncle is a man of means."

"I believe he is. He may put three or four thousand dollars into the
venture I mention, if he continues pleased with me. That is, I think,
the most I could expect from him."

Mrs. Acton sat silent a while, and, though Nasmyth was not aware of
it, favoured him with one or two glances of careful scrutiny. He was,
as she had naturally noticed, a well-favoured man, and the flannels
and straw hat he wore were becoming to him. What was more to the
purpose, there was a certain graceful easiness in his voice and manner
which were not characteristic of most of her husband's friends.
Indeed, well-bred poise was not a characteristic of her own, though
she recognized her lack. The polish that she coveted suggested an
acquaintance with a world that she had not as yet succeeded in
persuading her husband to enter. Acton was, from her point of view,
regrettably contented with his commercial status in the new and
crudely vigorous West.

"Well," she remarked thoughtfully, "none of us knows what there is in
the future, and there are signs that you have intelligence and grit in
you." Then she dismissed the subject. "I think you might take me for a
row," she said.

Nasmyth pulled the dinghy alongside, and rowed her up and down the
bay, but his intelligence was, after all, not sufficient for him to
recognize the cleverness with which she led him on to talk about his
uncle and England. He was not aware that he had been particularly
communicative, but when he rowed back to the yacht Mrs. Acton was in
possession of a great deal of information that was more or less
satisfying.

The _Tillicum_ steamed away again when the remainder of the party
arrived, and she was leisurely swinging over a little froth-flecked
sea that night, with the spray flying at her bows, when Acton came
upon Nasmyth leaning on the rail.

"I wasn't quite certain what view Mrs. Acton might take of Martial's
disappearance," said Acton. "Just now, however, I think that she is
rather pleased with you."

"The fact," replied Nasmyth, "is naturally a cause for satisfaction."

Acton appeared amused. "Well," he said, "to some extent it depends
upon what views she has for you. Mrs. Acton is a capable woman."

Acton strolled forward, leaving Nasmyth thoughtful. The hint was
reasonably plain, but the younger man was not quite sure that he would
be willing to fall in with the strong-willed woman's views. There was
no doubt that Violet Hamilton attracted him--he admitted that without
hesitation--for she had grace and wit and beauty, but she had, also,
large possessions, which might prove a serious obstacle. Besides, he
was sensible of a tenderness for the woman who had given him shelter
and a great deal more than that in the lonely Bush. Laura, however,
was still in the wilderness, and Miss Hamilton, whose society he found
very pleasant, was then on board the _Tillicum_, facts that had their
significance in the case of a man liable to be swayed by the impulses
of the moment. By-and-by, he started, for while he thought about her,
Miss Hamilton came out of the little companion-way, and stood looking
round her, with her long light dress rustling in the breeze, until
she moved forward as her eyes rested on him.

Nasmyth fancied that there was a particular significance in the fact
that she appeared just then. He walked to meet her, and, drawing a low
canvas chair into the shelter of the skylights, sat down with his back
against them close at her feet. He did not remember what they talked
about, and it was in all probability nothing very material, but they
had already discovered that they had kindred views and likes, and they
sat close together in the shelter of the skylights with a bright
half-moon above them, while the _Tillicum_ lurched on over a
glittering sea. Both of them were surprised to discover that an hour
had slipped by when their companions came up on deck, and Nasmyth was
once more thoughtful before he went to sleep that night.

Next day the _Tillicum_ brought up off a little mining town, and
George, who went ashore, came back with several letters. Among the
letters was a note for Nasmyth from a man interested in land
exploitation. This man, with whom Nasmyth had been in communication,
was then in the mining town, and he suggested that Nasmyth should call
upon him at his hotel. Nasmyth showed Acton the letter.

"I understand these folks are straight?" the younger man remarked with
inquiry in his tone.

Acton smiled dryly. "Any way," he said, "they're as straight as most.
It's not a business that's conducive to unswerving rectitude. Hutton
has come up here to see you about the thing?"

"He says he has some other business."

"Well," replied Acton, "perhaps he has." Then he turned to Wisbech,
who sat close by. "I'll go ashore with Nasmyth. Will you come along?"

"No," said Wisbech; "I almost think I'll stay where I am. If Derrick
can hold out any reasonable prospect of making interest on the money,
it's quite possible I may put three or four thousand dollars into the
thing, but I go no further. It's his affair. He must handle it
himself."

Acton nodded. "That's sensible, in one way," he declared, and one
could have fancied there was a certain suggestiveness in the
qualification.

Wisbech appeared to notice it, for he looked hard at Acton. Then he
made an abrupt gesture.

"It's my nephew's affair," he said.

"Oh, yes!" returned Acton, significantly. "Any way, I'll go ashore
with him, as soon as George has the gig ready."

Acton and Nasmyth were rowed off together half an hour later, and they
walked up through the hot main street of the little colliery town. It
was not an attractive place, with rickety plank sidewalks raised
several feet above the street, towering telegraph-poles, wooden
stores, and square frame houses cracked by the weather, and mostly
destitute of any adornment or paint. Blazing sunshine beat down upon
the rutted street, and an unpleasant gritty dust blew along it.

There was evidently very little going on in the town that afternoon.
Here and there a man leaned heavy-eyed, as if unaccustomed to the
brightness, on the balustrade in front of a store, and raucous voices
rose from one or two second-rate saloons, but there were few other
signs of life, and Nasmyth was not sorry when they reached the wooden
hotel. Acton stopped a moment in front of the building.

"Hutton's an acquaintance of mine, and if you have to apply to men of
his kind, he is, perhaps, as reliable as most," he said. "Still, you
want to remember that in this country it's every man for himself,
especially when you undertake a deal in land." He smiled suggestively.
"And now we'll go in and see him."

They came upon a man who appeared a little older than Nasmyth. He was
sitting on the veranda, which was spacious, and had one or two wooden
pillars with crude scroll-work attached to them in front. Acton nodded
to the stranger.

"This is Mr. Nasmyth," he said. "He came up with me. Doing much round
here?"

The question was abrupt, but the man smiled.

"Oh," he answered, "we endeavour to do a little everywhere."

"Then I'll leave you to it, and look round again by-and-by. I guess I
may as well mention that Mr. Nasmyth is coming back with me."

Acton looked hard at Hutton, who smiled again. "Oh, yes," replied
Hutton, "I understand that. It's quite likely we'll have the thing
fixed up in half an hour or so. A cigar, Mr. Nasmyth?"

Nasmyth took a cigar, and went with Hutton to the little table which
had been set out, on the inner side of the veranda, with a carafe of
ice-water and a couple of bottles. They sat down at it, and Hutton
took out two letters and glanced at them.

"Now," he said, "we'll get to work. I understand your proposition is
to run the water out of the Cedar Valley. What's the area?"

"About four thousand acres available for ranching land, though it has
never been surveyed."

"And you want to take up as many acres beforehand as you can, and
can't quite raise the capital?"

Nasmyth said that was very much the state of affairs, and Hutton
drummed his fingers on the table. He was a lean-faced man, dressed
quietly and precisely, in city fashion, but he wore a big stone in a
ring on one hand, which for no very evident reason prejudiced his
companion against him.

"Well," he averred, "we might consider going into the thing and
finding part of the capital. It's our business, but naturally we would
want to be remunerated for the risk. It's rather a big one. You see,
you would have to take up the whole four thousand acres."

"Then," replied Nasmyth, "what's your proposition?"

"We'll put up what money you can't raise, and our surveyor will locate
land at present first-class Crown land figure. We'll charge you bank
rate until the land's made marketable when you have run the water out.
In a general way, that's my idea of the thing."

Nasmyth laid down his cigar and looked at him. "Isn't it a little
exorbitant? You get the land at cost value, and a heavy charge on
that, while I do the work?"

Hutton laughed. "Well," he said, "it's money we're out for, and unless
you take it all up, your claim's no good. Anybody else could jump
right in and buy a few hundred acres. Then he could locate water
rights and stop you running down the river, unless you bought him
out."

"The difficulty is that the Crown authorities haven't been selling
land lately, and would sooner lease. They seem inclined to admit that
this is a somewhat exceptional case; in fact, they have granted me one
or two privileges."

"What you would call a first option?"

Nasmyth remembered Acton's manner when he had mentioned his
acquaintance with his companion, and one or two things he had said.

"No," he said, "not exactly that. I merely mentioned certain
privileges."

"Then, what's to stop me or anybody going right down to Victoria and
buying the whole thing up to-morrow?"

"I'm inclined to fancy you would discover one or two things that would
make it difficult," answered Nasmyth dryly. "For another thing, I
hardly think you would get any of the regular rock-cutting or
mine-sinking people to undertake the work about the fall at a figure
that wouldn't make the risk too big. It's not a place that lends
itself to modern methods or the use of machinery. Besides, after
approaching you to a certain extent in confidence, it wouldn't be
quite the thing."

Hutton waved the hand which bore the ring. "Well," he said, "we'll get
back to our original offer. If it isn't good enough, how much more do
you want?"

Nasmyth explained his views, and they discussed each proposition point
by point, gradually drawing nearer to an agreement. Nasmyth was quite
aware that in a matter of this kind the man who provides the capital
usually takes the lion's share, but, after all, the project was his,
and he naturally wanted something for himself. At length Hutton leaned
forward with both elbows on the table, and a certain intentness in his
lean face.

"Now," he said, "I've gone just about as far as I can. You have either
got to close with my proposition or let it go."

Nasmyth said nothing, and there was silence for almost a minute while
he lay back in his chair gazing at the weather-cracked front of the
store across the street, and thinking hard. There was, he was quite
aware, a very arduous task in front of him--one that he shrank from at
times, for it could only be by strenuous toil that he could succeed in
lowering the level of the river, and it was clear that if he accepted
Mutton's offer, his share of the proceeds would not be a large one.
Still, he must have more capital than he could see the means of
raising, and once or twice he was on the point of signifying his
concurrence. His face grew grimmer, and he straightened himself a
trifle, but he did not see that the man who could supply the money was
watching him with a smile.

Then it seemed to Nasmyth that he heard a footstep in the room behind
him, but it was not particularly noticeable, and Hutton touched his
arm.

"Well," said the promoter, "I'll just run over our terms again." He
did so rapidly, and added: "If that doesn't take you, we'll call it
off."

Nasmyth made a gesture which was vaguely expressive of resignation,
and in another moment would have closed the bargain, but the footsteps
grew plainer, and, as he turned round, Acton appeared at the open
window close behind them. He stood still, looking at them with
amusement in his shrewd eyes, and then, stepping out, dropped heavily
into the nearest chair.

"Not through yet? I want a drink," he said.

It was probably not often that Hutton was disconcerted, but Nasmyth
saw his fingers close sharply on his cigar, which crumpled under them,
and that appeared significant to him. Acton looked round again as he
filled his glass.

"When you're ready we'll go along," he suggested. "You can worry out
anything Hutton has put before you to-night. When I've a matter of
consequence on hand, I generally like to sleep on it."

Nasmyth rose and turned to Hutton. "I don't want to keep Mr. Acton,
and I'm afraid I can't decide just yet," he said. "I'll let you know
when I make up my mind."

Hutton made a sign of concurrence, but there was a suggestive frown on
his face, when he leaned upon the balustrade, as Nasmyth and Acton
went down the stairway together. When they were half-way down the
street, Acton looked at Nasmyth with a dry smile.

"Well," he commented, "you have still got most of the wool on you?"

Nasmyth laughed, but there was relief in his voice.

"I was very nearly doing what I think would have been an unwise
thing," he said. "It was fortunate you came along when you did."

Acton waved his hand. "I'm open to admit that Hutton has a voice like
a boring bit. It would go through a door, any way. It's a thing he
ought to remember."

"There is still a point or two I am not very clear upon;" and Nasmyth
looked at him steadily.

Acton smiled again. "The fact is, Mrs. Acton gave me some instructions
concerning you. She said I was to see you through." He made an
expressive gesture. "She seemed to figure it might be advisable."

"Well," said Nasmyth reflectively, "I fancy she was right."

They said nothing further, but Nasmyth was unusually thoughtful as
they proceeded towards the water-front.

CHAPTER XVII

AN EVENTFUL DAY

It was about eleven o'clock on a cloudy, unsettled morning when
Nasmyth stood knee-deep in a swirling river-pool, holding a
landing-net and watching Miss Hamilton, who stood on a neighbouring
bank of shingle with a light trout-rod in her hand. The rod was bent,
and the thin line, which was drawn tense and rigid, ripped through the
surface of the pool, while there was also a suggestion of tension in
the pose of the girl's figure. She was gazing at the moving line, with
a fine crimson in her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes.

"Oh," she cried, "I'm afraid I'm going to lose it, after all."

Nasmyth smiled reassuringly. "Keep the butt well down, and your thumb
upon the reel," he continued. "You have only to keep on a steady
strain."

A big silvery object broke the surface a dozen yards away, and then,
while the reel clinked, went down again; but the line was moving
towards Nasmyth now, and, in another minute or two, he flung a sharp
warning at the girl as he made a sweep with the net. Then he
floundered ashore, dripping, with the gleaming trout, which he laid at
her feet.

"You ran that fish very well," he told her. "In fact, there were one
or two moments when I never expected you to hold it."

The colour grew a little plainer in his companion's face, though
whether this was due to his commendation or to elation at her own
success was a question. As she had just caught her first big fish, it
was, perhaps, the latter.

"Oh," she said complacently, "it isn't so very difficult after all.
But I wonder what can have become of the others of our party?"

It was at least an hour since Nasmyth had last seen their companions
considerably lower down the river. He and Miss Hamilton had pushed on
ahead of them into the Bush, which was a thing they had fallen into
the habit of doing. The girl sat down on a boulder and seemed to be
listening, but there was nothing to indicate the presence of any of
the party. Except for the murmur of the river and the sighing among
the pine-sprays high overhead, the Bush was very still, but it seemed
to Nasmyth that there was more wind than there had been.

"I suppose we had better go back to them," observed the girl. The
manner in which she spoke conveyed the impression that she would have
been more or less contented to stay where she was with him; but next
moment she added: "After all, they have the lunch with them, and it
must have been seven o'clock when we breakfasted."

"Yes," said Nasmyth, "I think it was. Still, until this minute I had
quite forgotten it."

"I certainly hadn't," said Violet Hamilton. "I don't think I ever had
breakfast at seven o'clock in my life until this morning."

The fact had its significance to Nasmyth. It was one of the many
little things that emphasized the difference between his life and
hers, but he brushed it out of his mind, and they went back together
down the waterside. Their progress was slow, for there was no trail at
all, and while they laboriously plodded over the shingle, or crept in
and out among the thickets, the wail of the breeze grew louder. Half
an hour had passed when the faint hoot of the _Tillicum's_ whistle
reached them among the trees.

"What can the skipper be whistling for?" asked the girl.

"I fancy the wind is setting inshore moderately fresh, and he wants us
to come off before it roughens the water," said Nasmyth.

They went on as fast as possible after that, though it was remarkably
rough travelling; but they saw no sign of their companions, and the
whistle, which had shrieked again, was silent, which evidently meant
that the gig had already gone off. When they reached the inlet the
river fell into, and found only the _Tillicum's_ dinghy lying on the
shingle, Nasmyth, looking down the lane of smooth green water somewhat
anxiously, noticed that the sea was flecked with white. The
_Tillicum_, as he remembered, was also lying well out from the beach.

"We had better get off at once," he said. "The breeze is freshening,
and this dinghy isn't very big."

He helped the girl into the boat, and when he had thrust the little
craft off sent her flying down the riband of sheltered water; but he
set his lips and braced himself for an effort when they slid out past
a point of froth-lapped shingle. There was already a white-topped sea
running, and the spray from the oar-blades and the dinghy's bows blew
aft into his companion's face in stinging wisps as he drove the
plunging craft over it. Now and then an odd bucketful of brine came in
and hit him on the back, while Miss Hamilton, who commenced to get
very wet, shivered and drew her feet up as the water gathered deeper
in the bottom of the boat.

"I'm afraid I must ask you to throw some of that water out," he said.
"There is a can to scoop it up with."

The girl made an attempt to do so, but it was not surprising that in a
few minutes, when the dinghy lurched viciously, she let the can slip
from her fingers. Nasmyth set his lips tighter, and his face was
anxious as he glanced over his shoulder. The sea was white-flecked
between him and the _Tillicum_, which lay rolling wildly farther down
the beach, at least half a mile away. It already taxed all Nasmyth's
strength to drive the dinghy off shore, and every sea that broke a
little more sharply than the rest splashed into the boat. He held on
for another few minutes, glancing over his shoulder and pulling
cautiously, for it was evident that he might fill the dinghy up or
roll her over if he failed to swing neatly over the crest of some
tumbling comber. In spite of his efforts, a wave broke on board, and
sitting ankle-deep in water, he waited until there was a slightly
smoother patch in front of him, and then swung the dinghy round.

"I'm afraid we'll have to make for the beach," he announced.

He would have preferred to head for the inlet, but that would have
brought the little white seas, which were rapidly getting steeper,
dangerously on her beam, and the thrust of one beneath her side
probably would have been sufficient to turn the diminutive craft over.
He accordingly pulled straight for the beach before the wind, and the
perspiration dripped from his set face as he strove to hold the dinghy
straight, when, with the foam boiling white about her, she swung up on
the crest of a comber. Once or twice Nasmyth glanced at Violet
Hamilton reassuringly, but she sat, half-crouching, against the
transom, gazing forward, white in face, with her wet hair whipping
about her. Nasmyth had not noticed it before, but her hat had
evidently gone over. Speech was out of the question. He wanted all his
breath, and recognized that it was not advisable to divert his
attention for a moment from his task, for it depends very largely upon
the man at the oars whether a diminutive dinghy keeps right side
uppermost in any weight of breeze. Once or twice he risked a glance at
the approaching land.

Sombre forest rolled down to the water's edge, and he could see that
there was already a broad ribbon of frothy whiteness beneath it, while
so far as he had noticed that beach consisted of rock ledges and very
large boulders. It was about the last place he would have chosen to
make a landing on, in a light and fragile dinghy.

After that, he looked resolutely astern over his companion's shoulders
as she swung up between him and the sea with the slate-green ridges
and tumbling white tops of the combers behind her. At length a
hazarded glance showed him that they were close inshore, and he
wondered for a moment whether he could swing the dinghy round without
rolling the boat over. He did not think it could be done, and set his
lips as he let her go, careering on a comber's crest, with at least
half her length out of the water.

Then there was a white upheaval close alongside, and for a moment a
black mass of stone appeared amidst the leaping foam. They swept by
it, and he gasped with relief as he looked at Miss Hamilton.

"Get hold of me when she strikes," he said.

The dinghy swung round, twisting broadside-on with the brine pouring
into her in spite of all that he could do; and while he tore at one
oar, another white sea that curled menacingly rose up astern. It broke
right into the boat, and in another moment there was a crash, and
Nasmyth, who let the oars drop, stretched out his arms to the girl. He
jumped when she clutched him, and found himself standing amid the
swirling froth on what seemed to be a ledge of very slippery stone,
with both arms about her, while the crushed-in dinghy swept up among
the foam-lapped boulders. He sprang down from the stone as another sea
came in, and floundered ashore waist-deep with it, after which he set
his dripping companion down upon the beach.

"I'm afraid you're rather wet," he said, when he got his breath again.
"Still, I really couldn't help it. There was a good deal more sea than
I had expected."

Miss Hamilton, who sat down on a boulder with the water dripping from
her skirt, looked ruefully at him and the dinghy, which was rolling
over in the surf.

"How are we going to get off?" she inquired.

"Not in that dinghy, any way," answered Nasmyth. "She has knocked all
one bilge in. They'll probably send the _Tillicum's_ gig ashore for us
by-and-by."

"But she's going away!" said the girl, with a gasp of consternation.

Nasmyth, who turned round, saw that this was certainly the case. A
cloud of steam blew away from beside the yacht's funnel, and in
another moment the shriek of a whistle reached him.

"I don't think we need worry about that," he remarked. "They evidently
watched us get ashore. You see, with the breeze freshening she
couldn't very well lie where she was. Still, if I remember, there's an
inlet a couple of leagues or so away along the coast where she'd find
shelter."

"But why didn't they send for us first?"

"The trouble is that there is really a nasty sea, and they couldn't
very well take us off if they knocked a big hole in the gig. I fancy
the wisest thing would be to walk towards that inlet along the
beach."

They set off, when Nasmyth had pulled the dinghy out, but the beach
was strewn with driftwood which was difficult to flounder over, as
well as very rough. They made no greater progress when they tried the
Bush. Fallen trees lay across one another, and there were thorny
thickets in between, while, here and there, the undergrowth seemed as
impenetrable as a wall. By-and-by it commenced to rain, and for an
hour or two they plodded on dejectedly through the pitiless deluge. It
rains exceedingly hard in that country. At last the girl sat down on a
fallen tree. She had already lost her hat, and the water soaked out of
Nasmyth's jacket, which he had tied by the arms about her shoulders.
Her drenched skirt clung about her, rent to tatters, and one of her
little shoes was caked with mire. The other gaped open.

"How far have we gone?" she asked.

"About a league," answered Nasmyth quietly. "I think we could make the
inlet in another two hours. That is, if the beach isn't very much
rougher."

The girl leaned against a branch wearily. "I'm afraid I can't go a
step further," she replied with trembling lips.

The rain beat upon them, and Nasmyth stood still a moment looking at
her.

"Well," he said, "we really can't stay here. Since there seems no
other way, I think I could carry you."

His diffidence was evident, and Violet smiled. "Have you ever carried
anybody--a distance--before?" she asked.

"No," said Nasmyth, "I certainly haven't."

"Then I don't think there would be much use in trying. You couldn't
carry me for more than four or five minutes. That wouldn't be worth
while, would it?"

Nasmyth said nothing for a minute or two, for he felt compassionate as
well as a trifle confused. He had, in fact, already discovered that
there are occasions when a young woman is apt to show greater
self-possession and look facts in the face more plainly than a man.
Then he set to work furiously with a branch which he tore from the
fallen tree, ripping off rough slabs of bark, and in the course of
half an hour had constructed a shelter about the base of a cedar. It,
at least, kept the rain off when Violet sat under it.

"It might be as well if I pushed on for the inlet and brought George
or Acton back with me," he suggested. "We could make something to
carry you in, if there was too much sea for the gig."

A flush crept into the girl's face, and she looked at him reproachfully.

"How could I stay here alone?" she asked. "Don't say those foolish
things. Come in out of the rain."

The bark shelter would just hold the two of them, and Nasmyth,
dripping, sat down close beside her. She looked very forlorn.

"I'm sorry for you," he said awkwardly.

The girl showed faint signs of temper. "You have told me that before.
Why don't you do something? You said you had lived in the Bush, and
now you have only been a few hours in it. It was seven o'clock when we
had breakfast. Can't you even make a fire?"

"I'm afraid I can't," answered Nasmyth deprecatingly. "You see, one
has usually an axe and some matches, as well as a few other odds and
ends, when one lives in the Bush. A man is a wretchedly helpless being
when he has only his hands."

The fact was borne in upon Violet forcibly as she glanced out at the
wet beach, tumbling sea, and dreary, dripping Bush. The Bush rolled
back, a long succession of straggling pines that rose one behind the
other in sombre ranks, to the rugged hills that cut against the hazy
sky. There was, no doubt, all that man required to provide him with
warmth and food and shelter in that forest, but it was certain that it
was only by continuous and arduous toil that he could render it
available. Indeed, since he could not make himself an axe or a saw or
a rifle, it was also evident that his efforts would be fruitless
unless backed by the toil of others who played their part in the great
scheme of human co-operation.

It is, however, probable that Violet did not concern herself with this
aspect of the matter, but she had led a sheltered life, and it was
curiously disconcerting to find herself brought suddenly face to face
with primitive realities. She was wet through and worn out, and
although evening was not far away, she had eaten nothing since seven
o'clock that morning. The momentary petulance deserted her.

"Oh!" she cried, "they mayn't be able to send off for us for perhaps a
day or two."

"It is quite likely that the breeze will drop at sunset," Nasmyth
replied cheerfully. "These westerly breezes often do. Anyway, the rain
seems to be stopping, and I may be able to dry my matches. In the
meanwhile I might come across something to eat. There are oysters on
some of these beaches."

Violet glanced at the Bush apprehensively, and once more it was
evident that she did not wish him to leave her. This sent a little
thrill of satisfaction through him, and although he half-consciously
contrasted her with Laura Waynefleet, it was not altogether to her
disadvantage. It is a curious fact that some men, and probably women,
too, feel more drawn to the persons upon whom they confer a benefit
than to those from whom they receive one. Laura Waynefleet, he
realized, would have urged him to make some attempt to reach the
_Tillicum_, and in all probability would have insisted on taking a
share in it, while his companion desired only to lean on him. After
all, Laura's attitude was more pleasant to the subconscious vanity
that was in his nature, and in this respect he probably differed but
little from most of his fellows.

"You won't be very long away?" she said.

Nasmyth reassured her upon this point, and floundered down to the
beach, where he carefully laid out to dry the little block of sulphur
matches that he carried. Then he crawled among the boulders near
low-water mark, and, since oysters are tolerably plentiful along those
beaches, succeeded in collecting several dozen of them. After that he
sat down and gazed seaward for a minute or two. There was no sign of
the _Tillicum_, only a strip of dingy, slate-green sea smeared with
streaks of froth, which shone white beneath a heavy, lowering sky.
Close in front of him the sea hove itself up in rows of foam-crested
ridges, which fell upon the boulders and swirled over them and among
them a furious white seething. He fancied that it was near sunset, and
it was clear that the breeze was a little lighter. It seemed to him
just possible that four capable seamen might keep the gig afloat close
enough to the beach for one to wade out to her, though there would be
a certain peril in such a proceeding. Still, there were not four
capable seamen on board the _Tillicum_!

Gathering up his matches, which had dried, Nasmyth went back to the
bark shelter. He was pleasantly conscious of the relief in Miss
Hamilton's eyes when he reached it, and fancied that she was too
overwrought and anxious to care whether he noticed it or not; but he
set about making a fire, and she helped him to collect brittle
undergrowth and fallen branches. Then they sat down and ate the
oysters that he had laid among the embers. He thought they were not in
season, and they were certainly burnt and shrivelled, as well as
somewhat gritty; but one is glad to eat anything after a long day of
exertion, and Nasmyth watched his companion with quiet appreciation as
she handled the rough shells daintily with little delicate fingers.
Her evident reliance upon him had its effect.

He carried an armful of branches to the beach, and started another
fire where it could be seen from seawards, after which he went back
and sat outside the shelter near Miss Hamilton, while darkness crept
up from the eastwards across the Bush. It grew dim and solemn, and the
doleful wailing of the pines was curiously impressive. The girl
shivered.

"The wind is very chilly," she said, with a tremor in her voice. "You
will stay here where I can see you. You won't go away?"

"Only to keep up the fire on the beach," Nasmyth answered reassuringly.

She crept into the shelter, and he could see her dimly when the
flickering light blazed up, but he could never remember how many
journeys he made to the fire upon the beach before his eyes grew heavy
as he sat amid the whirling smoke. He endeavoured to keep awake, and
resolutely straightened himself once or twice, but at last his eyes
closed altogether, and he did not hear the shriek of the _Tillicum's_
whistle ring far across the shadowy Bush. Indeed, he did not waken
when Acton and Wisbech came floundering into the light of the fire;
and the two men looked at each other when they stopped beside it and
saw him lying there, and then discovered the girl inside the shelter.
Acton raised his hand warningly, while a faint twinkle crept into his
eyes.

"I guess there's no reason why anybody else should hear of this," he
said. "It seems to me that Miss Hamilton would be just as well pleased
if we were not around when she awakens."

He stooped and shook Nasmyth's shoulder as Wisbech disappeared among
the shadows.

"Get up," said Acton. "Wait until I get away, and then waken her."

It was a minute before Nasmyth, who stood up stiffly, quite understood
him, and then the blood rose to his face as he crept into the shelter
and touched the girl. She sprang to her feet with a little cry and
clutched his arm. Then she suddenly let her hand fall back, and her
cheeks flushed crimson.

"The steamer's close by," said Nasmyth reassuringly. "They have sent
for us at last."

They went out together, and it was a minute or two later when they
came upon Wisbech and Acton in the Bush. Nasmyth entered into confused
explanations as they proceeded towards the beach. The sky was a little
lighter when they reached it, and standing near the sinking fire,
they could dimly see the gig plunging amidst the froth and spray. Then
George's voice reached them.

"Can't you let us have them, Mr. Acton? It's most all we can do to
keep her off the beach," he said.

Acton glanced at the strip of tumbling foam--through which he had
waded waist-deep--between them and the boat, and Nasmyth turned
towards Miss Hamilton, who, to his astonishment, recoiled from him.
Acton, however, made him a sign of command.

"I guess," he said, "she'd be safer with you."

Nasmyth said nothing, but he picked the girl up, as unconcernedly as
he could, for the second time that day, and staggered down the rough
beach with her. He contrived to keep his footing when a frothing sea
broke against him, and, floundering through the seething water,
reached the lurching boat. George seized his burden, and gently
deposited it in one of the seats. Scrambling on board, Nasmyth groped
for an oar, and in another minute or two they laboriously drove the
gig out towards the blinking lights of the _Tillicum_.

CHAPTER XVIII

TRANQUILLITY

The afternoon was very hot when Nasmyth plodded down a steep hillside
through the thick red dust of the waggon trail. A fire had swept the
undergrowth away, and there was no shade among the trees which,
stripped of their branches, towered about him, great charred and
blackened columns. Close ahead the primeval Bush rose in an unbroken
sombre mass, and Nasmyth, who quickened his pace a trifle, sat down
with a gasp of satisfaction when he reached the first of the shadow.
It was fresh and cool there. The Bush was scented with the odours of
pine and cedar, and filled with the soft murmur of falling water,
while he knew that just beyond it Bonavista stood above the sparkling
sea.

He was on his way from the railroad depôt. It was just a fortnight
since he had left the _Tillicum_ at the little mining town, on the day
after the one he and Violet Hamilton had spent on the beach, and he
had not seen her before he went. Now he fancied that a welcome awaited
him, and he felt sincerely pleased to be back again. As he sat beneath
a great cedar filling his pipe, it seemed to him only appropriate that
he should approach Bonavista through that belt of cool, sweet-scented
Bush. It made it easier to feel that he had left behind him all that
associated him with the strife and bustle of the hot and noisy cities.
At Bonavista were leisure, comfort, and tranquillity, which were,
after all, things that made a strong appeal to one side of his nature,
and he had made no progress in the city. There was also no doubt that
both Mr. and Mrs. Acton were glad to entertain him for a time. He sat
still a few minutes, and then went on slowly beneath the towering
redwoods and cedars until he came out of the forest, and saw the
sunlight stream down on the shingled roof of Bonavista close ahead.

The house appeared to be empty, and he had shed his dusty city clothes
in his room and had dressed again before he came upon Mrs. Acton,
sitting half asleep on a secluded strip of veranda. She roused herself
and smiled when she saw him.

"So you have come back at last. We have been expecting you all the
past week," she said.

"That," returned Nasmyth, "was remarkably good of you. In fact, I have
wondered now and then, with some misgivings, whether you have not seen
too much of me already."

Mrs. Acton laughed. "You needn't worry yourself on that point. We have
all our little hobbies. My husband's is the acquisition of dollars and
the opening of mines and mills. Mine is the amusing of my friends, or,
rather, the permitting them to amuse themselves, which is why I had
Bonavista built. I make only one stipulation--it is that when you stay
with us, you are amused."

With a little sigh of content, Nasmyth settled himself in a canvas
chair, and glanced out between the slender pillars of the cool veranda
at the wall of dusky forest and the flashing sea.

"Ah," he replied, "can you doubt it, my dear lady? After logging camp
and mine and city, this is an enchanted land. I think it is always
summer afternoon at Bonavista."

Mrs. Acton smiled at him graciously. "That," she observed, "was quite
nice of you. Things haven't gone just as you would have liked them to
go, in the city?"

"They haven't," admitted Nasmyth whimsically. "As a matter of fact,
they very seldom do. Still, I wouldn't like you to think that was the
only reason I am glad to get back."

Mrs. Acton's eyes twinkled. "I imagine I am acquainted with the other.
You were rather tactful in going away."

"I went because Mr. Acton handed me a letter which said that a
business man in Victoria would like a talk with me."

"In any case, Miss Hamilton seems to be under the impression that it
was nice of you."

"Nice of me to go away?" and Nasmyth's tone was mildly reproachful.

"One would not resent a desire to save one any little embarrassment."

"Still," observed Nasmyth, with an air of reflection, "the trouble is
that I couldn't contrive to keep out of her sight continually even if
I wanted to, and"--he lowered his voice confidentially--"as it
happens, I don't."

Mrs. Acton laughed. "I don't know of any particular reason why you
should do that. Violet has probably quite recovered her equanimity and
decided on her attitude towards you." Then she changed the subject
abruptly. "I wonder if I may point out that there has been a change in
you, since my husband brought you here. For one thing, you are much
more amusing. Even your voice is different."

Nasmyth bowed. "But not my hands," he said; and as he held up one
hand, she noticed the scars on it and the coarseness of his nails.
"That tells a tale, I think. My dear lady, I scarcely think you quite
realize all that you have given me. You have never seen how we lived
in the lonely logging camps--packed like cattle in a reeking shed--and
you do not know the grim side of our life in the Bush. It would be no
great use to tell you that I have now and then limped for days
together over the ballast of a railroad track, wondering where my next
dollar was to come from. These are the things one could not expect you
to understand."

Mrs. Acton's face softened a little. "Still, I think my husband does,"
she replied. Then she smiled at him. "It almost seems to me that you
need never go back to that life again unless you like it. I mean, of
course, that, for one thing, your uncle has his views concerning you.
He has to some extent taken Mr. Acton into his confidence."

Nasmyth made no comment, and Mrs. Acton sank down a little further
into her long chair. "The others are down on the beach," she announced
drowsily. "I really think I was going to sleep when you made your
appearance."

Nasmyth could take a hint, and he strolled away down the veranda
stairway and around the edge of the wide clearing in the shadow of the
Bush, until he stood looking down upon the sea from the crown of the
bluff. Then he felt a little thrill, for some twenty or thirty feet
beneath him was a patch of something white in the shadow of the
shrubbery. He went down quietly until he stopped, and, stooping,
touched Violet Hamilton's shoulder. She looked around with a start,
and a faint trace of embarrassment crept into her face at the sight of
him.

"Oh," she said, "I thought you were in Victoria."

Nasmyth stretched himself out upon a ledge of rock near her feet.
"Mrs. Acton was good enough to imply that she had been expecting me
more or less anxiously for several days," he rejoined in a tone of
reproach. "In fact, she used the plural pronoun, which led me to
believe that somebody else must have shared her anxiety. She did not,
however, point out who it was that she meant."

"Her husband, in all probability. She could, at least, speak for
him."

Nasmyth appeared to ponder over this, though his heart was beating
faster than usual, for the suggestion of confusion which he had
noticed in the girl's manner had its significance for him.

"Well," he conceded, "it may have been Acton, but I almost ventured to
believe she meant somebody else. In any case, I shouldn't like to
think you were displeased at my reappearance. If you are, I can, of
course, go away again."

"I am not the only person at Bonavista. Wouldn't anybody else's wishes
count--Mr. Acton's, for instance?"

"No," asserted Nasmyth reflectively. "At least, not to anything like
the same extent."

Violet laughed. "The difficulty is that nobody can tell how much you
really mean. You are so seldom serious." She cast a quick glance at
him. "You were not like that when you first came here."

"Then," said Nasmyth, "you can blame it on Bonavista. As I have been
trying to explain to Mrs. Acton, who made a similar observation, there
is glamour in this air. It gets hold of one. I was, no doubt, a
tediously solemn person when I left the Bush, but you will remember
that soon after I arrived here, you and I sailed out together into the
realms of moonlight and mystery. I sometimes feel that I must have
brought a little of the latter back with me."

Violet said nothing for half a minute, during which she lay resting on
one elbow, looking down upon the cool, green flashing of the water a
hundred feet below, and again Nasmyth felt a little thrill run through
him. She was so very dainty in speech and thought and person, a woman
of the world he had once belonged to, and which it now seemed he might
enter again. Her delicately chiselled, half-averted face matched the
slight but finely moulded figure about which the thin white draperies
clung. She turned and looked at him.

"You certainly can't be serious now," she declared.

"I assure you that when I mentioned the glamour and mystery, I was
never half so serious in my life. They are, after all, very real
things."

He was, as a matter of fact, grimly serious for the moment as he
wondered at the change that had come over him. His life in the silent
Bush, the struggle with the icy river, and even Laura Waynefleet, who
had encouraged him in his work of rehabilitation, had by degrees
become no more than a dim, blurred memory. He knew that he could
recall it all, but he had no wish to make the effort, for it was more
pleasant to hear the sighing of the summer wind about the firs of
Bonavista, and wonder languidly what his companion thought.

"I haven't thanked you for taking care of me the day we were left
behind on the beach," said Violet.

Nasmyth made a sign of protest. "I don't think you are under any very
great obligation to me. As a matter of fact, my efforts on your behalf
nearly resulted in my drowning you. Besides, you see, there was really
not the slightest cause for uneasiness. Acton certainly would have
sent for us when the wind dropped."

"But it might have blown for days."

"Then," said Nasmyth, with a twinkle in his eyes, "we would have lived
on salmon and berries until it stopped. One really can live on them
for a considerable time, though they are not remarkably palatable when
one has anything else to eat; in fact, it's a thing I've done."

Salmon is not esteemed in that country, except for the purpose of
sending East in cans, and it is seldom that anybody eats it except the
Indians. There is probably no diet that more rapidly grows satiating.

"Ah," exclaimed the girl, with a shiver, "it would have been
horrible."

She was evidently not thinking of the salmon, but of the dreary,
dripping Bush, and Nasmyth looked at her with reproach in his eyes.

"I really don't think it would have been," he said. "In fact, I believe
we could have lived there for a little while very contentedly--that is,
when I had fixed things up a bit. After all, there is a certain
glamour in the Bush when one gets used to it."

He saw the faint colour creep into her face, and, though it cost him
an effort, laid a restraint upon himself.

"Well," he said, "I at least would not have felt that I had any cause
to complain, though, no doubt, it would have been different with you.
You see"--and he made an expressive gesture--"I have had a long tough
tussle since I came to Canada, and experiences of that sort have their
effect on one. In fact, they set one apart from those who haven't
undergone them. It seems to have struck you that I was prematurely
solemn and serious when I came to Bonavista."

He thought he saw sympathy in Violet Hamilton's eyes, and her next
observation made it clear that her mind was busy with the suggestion
that he had conveyed.

"After all," she said softly, "you cannot be very much older than I
am."

"Four years, perhaps," returned Nasmyth, with a trace of grimness.
"That is, in one sense. In another, I think I am double your age. You
see, you have never been brought into contact with the realities of
life. If you had been, you would probably not be so ready to take me
for what you think I am, as I believe you have graciously done. After
all, you know so very little about me."

He felt that he was doing no more than discharging an obligation in
giving her this warning. He desired to afford her every opportunity of
satisfying herself concerning him, for he was not a fool, and he had
seen for a moment or two a suggestive softness in her face. It is
possible that she did not know it had been there, but he felt that if
he roused himself and made the effort, he might sweep away the
barriers between them.

Violet appeared troubled by his words. She sat silent, while Nasmyth
wondered what she would say. He was aware that a good deal depended
upon her next remark. Then there were footsteps on the slope behind
them, and, turning suddenly, he saw Acton and another man approaching
them. He rose with a little start when he recognized the second man as
Gordon, who was neatly attired in city clothes. Gordon looked down at
Nasmyth with a faint sardonic smile.

"Mr. Gordon turned up half an hour ago," Acton said. "It appears that
he was going into the city, and got off the cars to talk over things
with you. I believe he had a notion of going on again to-night, but
Mrs. Acton won't hear of it."

Gordon bowed in the direction of his host.

"I'd have put up a more vigorous protest against troubling Mrs. Acton
than I did, if I had felt it would have been of any use," he said.

"Well," replied Acton, smiling, "I guess they'll be getting supper
ready, and we were sent here to bring our friend and Miss Hamilton
in."

They went back to the house together, where they found the long table
spread. It was characteristic of the owner of Bonavista that he still
called the evening meal supper. There were, besides Nasmyth and
Wisbech, five or six other guests from Victoria and one of the rising
cities on Puget Sound, and Gordon speedily made himself very much at
home. Most of his new acquaintances found what he had to say
entertaining, but Miss Hamilton was, as Nasmyth noticed, somewhat
silent. Nasmyth, on his part, felt slightly restless, for his old
comrade's presence had an unsettling effect on him. It was, however,
not until an hour or two later that he and Gordon were able to discuss
their own affairs. They sat on the veranda looking down upon the sea,
while the dusk slowly crept up from the east.

"Now," said Gordon, "I should like to hear what you have done."

"I'm afraid it's not a great deal," replied Nasmyth. "The Crown land
authorities appear disposed to sell the land instead of leasing it,
which of late has been the more usual course; but they insist on
counting a certain proportion of the hillside and big timber in. I may
get one or two concessions, and I'm still keeping the affair before
them. In the meanwhile I've been seeing what can be done to raise
enough capital to take up all the land, but haven't met with any great
success. The folks I've been in communication with, as usual, want all
the profit; in fact, I almost fancy it might be as well to raise what
money we can around the settlement, and content ourselves with
locating a portion of the valley."

Gordon nodded. "You can't do much about the fall until after the
autumn freshets, anyway, and there's a good deal you can't get at
until the frost sets in," he declared. "In the meanwhile the offers
Wheeler and I made you hold."

They discussed the matter until Mrs. Acton appeared on the veranda and
shook her head at them.

"What are you two doing here when there are pretty girls in the house
waiting for a dance?" she inquired.

"I'm afraid we have been very remiss," apologized Nasmyth, when they
joined her. "Still, we didn't know, and we had some business to talk
about."

"There will be plenty of time for that to-morrow."

"The trouble is that I shall be in the city then," said Gordon.

Mrs. Acton laughed. "Oh, no!" she contradicted. "We are all going for
a sail on the straits to-morrow, and we certainly expect you to join
us. In the meanwhile, I believe there are two young women waiting for
partners."

She silenced Gordon's objections as they turned back towards the
house. They found the dancing had commenced, and Nasmyth failed to
secure Miss Hamilton as a partner for any time in the evening. He
could not help a fancy that she had taken some little trouble to bring
about this result.

CHAPTER XIX

NASMYTH HEARS THE RIVER

Darkness had settled down on Bonavista next evening when Nasmyth lay
in a canvas chair on the veranda, while Gordon leaned against the
balustrade in front of him with a cigar in his hand. A blaze of light
streamed out from one of the long open windows a few yards away, and
somebody was singing in the room behind it, while the splash of the
gentle surf came up from the foot of the promontory in a deep
monotone. Now and then a shadowy figure strolled into the veranda or
crossed it to the terrace below, but for the time being nobody
disturbed the two men.

"I haven't had a word with you since last night," said Nasmyth. "How
are the boys at the settlement?"

"Hustling along as usual." Gordon laughed. "Is there anybody else you
feel inclined to ask about?"

"Yes," said Nasmyth, "there certainly is. How is Miss Waynefleet?"

Gordon looked down at his cigar. "Well," he said, "I'm a little
worried on her account. She was attempting to do a great deal more
than was good for her when I last saw her. They have no longer a hired
man at the ranch. Waynefleet, I understand, is rather tightly fixed
for money, and, as you know, he isn't the kind of man who would deny
himself. He was talking of selling some stock."

Nasmyth suddenly straightened himself, and closed one hand rather hard
on the arm of his chair.

"What right have you and I to be lounging here when that girl is
working late and early on the ranch?" he asked. "Gordon, you will
have to buy two or three head of that stock at double value for me."

"It's rather a big question;" and Gordon's tone was serious. "In fact,
I fancy it's one that neither you nor I can throw much light upon.
Anyway, I may as well point out that I arrived here only yesterday,
and I'm going on again in the morning. As to the other matter, Laura
Waynefleet has friends who will stand by her."

"Don't you count me one of them?" Nasmyth demanded. "That girl saved
my life for me."

Gordon glanced round sharply, for there were light footsteps on the
veranda, and he almost imagined that a white figure in filmy draperies
stopped a moment. It, however, went on again and vanished in the
shadow.

"I believe she did," he admitted. "Well, if there's anything that can
be done, you may rely on me." He made an abrupt gesture, and as he
turned, the light from the window fell upon his face, showing the
curious smile on it. "What are you doing here?"

He flung the question at his comrade, and Nasmyth, who knew what he
meant, sat for a moment or two with wrinkled forehead. There was no
reason why he should not stay there so long as Mr. and Mrs. Acton
desired his company, but it did not seem fitting that he should spend
those summer days in luxurious idleness while Laura Waynefleet toiled
late and early at the lonely ranch. Again, he seemed to see her steady
eyes with the quiet courage in them, and the gleam of her red-gold
hair. Even then she was, he reflected, in all probability occupied
with some severe drudgery. It was a thing he did not like to
contemplate, and he almost resented the fact that Gordon should have
brought such thoughts into his mind. His comrade had broken in upon
his contentment like a frosty wind that stung him to action. Still, he
answered quietly.

"I am within easy reach of the city here," he explained. "Acton, who
has once or twice given me good advice, is acquainted with most of the
folks likely to be of any use to us, and has laid the scheme before
one or two of them. That, at least, is one reason why I am staying at
Bonavista. It's perfectly evident that it wouldn't be any benefit to
Miss Waynefleet if I went back to the Bush."

"No," agreed Gordon grimly; "if you were likely to be of any use or
consolation to her, you'd go, if I had to drag you."

Nasmyth smiled. He was too well acquainted with his comrade's manner
to take offence at this remark, and the man's devotion to the girl
who, he knew, would never regard him as more than a friend also had
its effect.

"Well," he said, "since plain speaking seems admissible, you are
probably aware that Laura Waynefleet has nothing beyond a kindly
interest in me. She is, I needn't point out, a remarkably sensible
young lady."

He stopped somewhat abruptly, for Wisbech emerged from the shadows
beneath the pillars, and sat down in a chair close by.

"Yes," said Wisbech, "I heard, and it seems to me Derrick's right in
one respect. Though I don't know how far it accounts for the other
fact he has just impressed on you, Miss Waynefleet certainly possesses
a considerable amount of sense. She is also a young lady I have a high
opinion of. Still, if he had gone back to the Bush merely because you
insisted on it, I think I should have cast him off."

Gordon appeared to ponder over this, and he then laughed softly. "It's
quite natural, and I guess I sympathize with you," he remarked. "In
one way, however, your nephew's acquitting himself creditably,
considering that there are apparently three people anxious to exert a
beneficent influence upon him. The effect of that kind of thing is apt
to become a trifle bewildering, especially as it's evident their views
can't invariably coincide."

"Three?" said Wisbech, with a twinkle in his eyes. "If you count me
in, I almost fancy there are four."

Nasmyth said nothing, though he felt his face grow hot. Gordon
smiled.

"As a matter of fact," he admitted, "I had a notion that Miss Hamilton
resented my being here. Any way, she didn't take any very noticeable
trouble to be pleasant to me to-day. No doubt she considers any
influence she may choose to exert should be quite sufficient."

"It should be," said Nasmyth. "That is, to any man who happened to be
a judge of character, and had eyes in his head."

Gordon waved one hand. "Oh," he averred, "she's very dainty, and I
think there's a little more than prettiness there, which is a very
liberal admission, since I'm troubled with an impression that she
isn't quite pleased with me. Still, when the woods are full of pretty
girls, I guess it's wisest of a man who has anything worth while to do
in front of him to keep his eyes right on the trail, and go steadily
ahead." He turned to Wisbech deprecatingly. "We don't mind you, sir.
We regard you as part of the concern."

"Thanks," said Wisbech, with a certain dryness. "I believe I am
interested in it--at least, financially."

"Well," said Gordon, "when I break loose, as I do now and then, I
quite often say a little more than is strictly advisable without
meaning to. It's a habit some folks have. Your observation, however,
switches us off on to a different matter. I've been telling your
nephew we leave him to handle the thing and stand by our offers."

"That is precisely what I mean to do. The affair is Derrick's. He must
take his own course," declared Wisbech.

Gordon grinned as he turned to Nasmyth. "There will be no reinforcements.
You have to win your spurs." Then he looked at Wisbech. "If you will
not be offended, sir, I would like to say I'm pleased to notice that
your ideas coincide with mine. He'll be the tougher afterwards if you
let him put up his fight alone."

"The assurance is naturally satisfactory," said Wisbech with quiet
amusement. Then he held up one hand. "It seems to me the person at the
piano is playing exceptionally well."

They sat silent while the crashing opening chords rang out from the
lighted room, and then Nasmyth, who was a lover of music, found
himself listening with a strained attention as the theme stole out of
them, for it chimed with his mood. He had been restless and disturbed
in mind before Gordon had flung his veiled hints at him, and the
reality underlying his comrade's badinage had a further unsettling
effect. He did not know what the music was, but it seemed in keeping
with the throb of the sea against the crag and the fitful wailing of
the pines. There was a suggestion of effort and struggle in it, and,
it seemed to him, something that spoke of a great dominant force
steadily pressing on; and, as he listened, the splash of the sea grew
fainter, and he heard instead the roar of the icy flood and the crash
of mighty trees driving down upon his half-built dam. These were
sounds which sometimes haunted him against his will, and once or twice
he had been a little surprised to find that, now that they were past,
he could look back upon the months of tense effort with a curious,
half-regretful pleasure. He was relieved when the music, that swelled
in a sonorous crescendo, stopped, and he saw Gordon glance at
Wisbech.

"I think that man has understanding and the gift of expressing what he
feels," said Wisbech. "The music suggested something to you?"

"The fast freight," confessed Gordon.--"When she's coming down the big
cañon under a full head of steam. I don't know if that's quite an
elegant simile, in one way. Still, if you care to think how that
track was built, it's not difficult to fancy there's triumph in the
whistles and the roar of the freight-car wheels."

Wisbech made a sign of comprehension, and Gordon looked hard at
Nasmyth. "It's your call."

"I heard the river," said Nasmyth. "In fact, I often hear it, and now
and then wish I didn't. It's unsettling."

Gordon laughed in a suggestive fashion. "Well," he declared, "most of
us hear something of that kind at times, and no doubt it's just as
well we do. It's apt to have results if you listen. You have been most
of a month in the city one way or another. You took to it kindly?"

"I didn't," Nasmyth answered, and it was evident that he was serious.
"I came back here feeling that I had had quite enough of it."

"Bonavista is a good deal more pleasant?" And there was a certain
meaning in Gordon's tone. "You seemed to have achieved some social
success here, too."

He saw the flush in Nasmyth's face, and his gaze grew insistent.
"Well," he said, "you're not going to let that content you, now you
can hear the river. You'll hear it more and more plainly frothing in
the black cañon where the big trees come down. You have lived with the
exiles, and the wilderness has got its grip on you. What's more, I
guess when it does that it never quite lets go."

He broke off abruptly, and just then Acton stepped out from the
window. "Mr. Gordon," he said, "it's my wife's wish that you should
come in and sing."

Gordon said that he was in Mrs. Acton's hands, and then turned to
Nasmyth.

"I've had my say," he observed. "If there's any meaning in my remarks,
you can worry it out."

He went away with Acton, and Wisbech looked at his nephew over his
cigar.

"Mr. Gordon expresses himself in a rather extravagant fashion, but I'm
disposed to fancy there is something in what he says," he commented.

Nasmyth did not answer him. He was, on the whole, glad that Gordon had
gone, but he still seemed to hear the river, and the restlessness that
had troubled him was becoming stronger. He retired somewhat early, but
he did not sleep quite so soundly as usual that night. As it happened,
Gordon rose before him next morning. Gordon went out of doors, and
presently came upon Miss Hamilton, who was strolling bareheaded where
the early sunshine streamed in among the pines. It struck him that he
was not the person whom she would have been most pleased to see, but
she walked with him to the crown of the promontory, where she stopped
and looked up at him steadily.

"Mr. Gordon," she inquired, "what is Laura Waynefleet?"

Gordon started, and the girl smiled.

"I crossed the veranda last night," she told him, when he hesitated
before answering her.

The man looked down on her with an unusual gravity. "Well," he said
simply, "Laura Waynefleet is quietness, and sweetness, and courage. In
fact, I sometimes think it was to make these things evident that she
was sent into this world."

He thought he saw a gleam of comprehension in the girl's eyes, and
made a gesture of protest. "No," he assured her, "I'm not fit to brush
her little shoes. For that matter, though he is my comrade, Nasmyth
isn't either. What is perhaps more to the purpose, I guess he is quite
aware of it."

A delicate tinge of colour crept into Violet Hamilton's face, and the
man realized that in case his suppositions were correct, what he had
implied could hardly be considered as a compliment. He could also
fancy that there was a certain uneasiness in her eyes.

"Ah," she said, "perhaps it is a subject I should not have ventured to
inquire into."

Gordon smiled reassuringly. "I don't know of any reason why you
shouldn't have done so, but I have scarcely told you anything about
her yet. Miss Waynefleet lives at a desolate ranch in the Bush.
Sometimes she drives oxen, and I believe she invariably makes her own
clothes. I don't think Nasmyth would feel any great diffidence in
speaking about her."

He believed this, or at least he strove to convince himself that he
did, but he was relieved when the appearance of Acton, who strolled
towards them, rendered any further confidential conversation out of
the question. Gordon set out for Victoria that afternoon, and Nasmyth,
who went with him to the railroad, returned to Bonavista in a restless
mood, and almost disposed to be angry with his comrade for having
rudely broken in upon his tranquillity. In fact, he felt disinclined
to face his fellow-guests, which was one reason why he was sauntering
towards the inlet when he came upon Wisbech sitting with a book in the
shadow of the pines. Wisbech looked up at his moody face.

"You are annoyed because Gordon wouldn't stay?" he suggested.

"No," said Nasmyth. "In fact, I'm a little relieved that he has gone
away. I naturally like Gordon, but just now he has an unsettling
effect on me."

Wisbech made a gesture of comprehension. "That man," he said, "is in
some respects fortunate. He has a simple programme, and is evidently
more or less content with it. His work is plain in front of him. You
are not quite sure about yours yet. To some extent, you feel yourself
adrift?"

"I have felt something of the kind."

Wisbech thought for a moment. "I suppose," he said, "it hasn't
occurred to you that your classical features--they're Nasmyth
features--might be of some assistance to you in your career?"

Nasmyth felt the blood rise into his face, but he laughed. "They
certainly haven't proved of any great benefit to me hitherto. It is
scarcely likely that they will do so either in the cañon."

"Then you are still determined on directing operations in person? I
was commencing to wonder if you had any reason for modifying your
plans."

The man's tone was dry, but Nasmyth met his gaze, which was now
inquisitive.

"If it is in my power to do it, I shall certainly run the water out of
the valley," said Nasmyth.

Then he swung round and strolled away, while Wisbech smiled in a
fashion which suggested that he was pleased. It was some little time
later when Nasmyth, pacing moodily over the white shingle beside the
winding inlet, came upon Violet Hamilton sitting in the shadow of a
great boulder. The girl's light dress matched the rock's pale tinting,
and he did not see her until he was within a yard or two of her. He
stopped abruptly, with a deepened colour in his face. Violet made a
sign, which seemed to invite him to sit down, and he stretched himself
out upon the shingle close in front of her.

"It is very hot in the house this afternoon, but it is cool and quiet
here," she observed.

Nasmyth glanced at the still water and the shadow that the pines which
clung in the crevices flung athwart the dark rock's side.

"Stillness sometimes means stagnation. Miss Hamilton," he said.

The girl flashed a quick glance at him. "Well," she rejoined, "I
suppose it does; but, after all, that is a question we need not
discuss. What were you thinking of so hard as you came along? You
didn't see me until you almost stepped upon my dress."

"That," said Nasmyth, with a laugh, "is proof that I was thinking very
hard indeed. It's not a thing I often indulge in, but I was thinking
of the Bush."

"You sometimes feel you would like to be back there?"

"No," answered Nasmyth reflectively; "I suppose I ought to feel that,
but I'm not sure that I do."

"Ah," Violet remarked, "you have told me a good deal at one time or
another about your life and friends there, but I almost fancied now
and then that you were keeping something back. After all"--and she
smiled at him--"I suppose that would have been only natural."

Nasmyth raised himself on one elbow, and looked hard at her. "Well,"
he admitted, "there was one thing I did not tell you, though I had
meant to do so sooner or later. You see, there was nothing to warrant
it in the meanwhile."

"Ah," queried the girl, "it concerns Miss Waynefleet?"

Nasmyth's face grew suddenly grave. He did not ask himself how she
came to know. Indeed, for the time being, that did not seem to matter.
There was, it seemed, only one course open to him, and he adopted it.

"Yes," he answered, "I will tell you about her."

He had meant to be brief and matter-of-fact in his narrative, but as
he proceeded, the subject carried him away. Indeed, he was scarcely
conscious that Miss Hamilton was intently watching him, for once more
he seemed to feel Laura Waynefleet's eyes fixed upon his face, and
they were clear and brave and still. He spoke with a certain dramatic
force, and it was a somewhat striking picture he drew of the girl.
Violet could realize her personality and the self-denying life that
she led. It is possible that Nasmyth had told her more than he
intended, when he broke off for a moment with a startling abruptness.

"I believe she saved my life," he added. "She certainly gave me back
my courage, and set me on my feet again."

Violet looked at him with a strained expression in her eyes. "And
because of that she will have a hold upon you while you live."

Nasmyth seemed to consider this. "I think I shall always realize what
I owe to her. Still--and how shall I say it?--that recognition is the
most I would venture to offer, or that she would accept from me."

He stopped for a moment, and then went on a trifle hastily. "Laura
Waynefleet could never have taken more than a half-compassionate
interest in me," he asserted. "There could scarcely be any doubt upon
that point."

"You said half-compassionate?"

"Yes," replied Nasmyth; "I almost think that describes it. You see, I
am naturally aware of my own disabilities."

"Still," persisted Violet, "she nursed you when you were very ill,
and, as you said, set you on your feet again. That would probably
count for a good deal with her."

Nasmyth made a hasty gesture. "You don't understand. She would no
doubt have taken pity on any dumb creature. She did it because she
could not help it. One could fancy that kind of thing was born in
her."

Violet did not speak for a moment or two. Although it still remained
uncertain whether the girl in the Bush had any tenderness for the man
she had set upon his feet again, he had spoken of her in a manner
which did not quite please Violet.

"Well," she ventured, with a little diffident glance at him, "some day
you will go back into the Bush."

Nasmyth nodded. "Yes," he said, "I think that's certain. In fact, it's
probable that I shall go back very soon. As it happens, I have
undertaken a big and rather difficult thing, which will give me a
considerable lift up if I am successful."

He lay silent for a minute before he turned to her again. "You see, I
have been some time in this country, and never have done anything
worth mentioning. Chopping trees and driving cattle are no doubt
useful occupations, but they don't lead to anything. I feel that I am,
so to speak, on my probation. I have still to win my spurs."

"I wonder if that is one of the ideas Miss Waynefleet gave you?"

Nasmyth smiled. "I really believe it originated with her, but, as a
matter of fact, it might have gone no further, which is an admission.
Still, the desire to win those spurs has been growing so strong of
late that I can't resist it. In one way, I scarcely think that is very
astonishing."

Violet looked away from him, for she saw the gleam in his eyes, and
fancied she understood what the new motive he had hinted at might be.
Still, he did not appear disposed to mention it.

"Then you would have to go away?" she asked.

A flush crept into Nasmyth's face. She was a woman of his own caste,
and probably without intending it, she had shown him in many ways that
she was not averse from him. He felt his heart beat fast when for a
moment she met his gaze.

"The trouble is that if I do not go I shall never have the right to
come back again," he told her.

"Then," replied the girl very softly, "you wish to come back?"

"That is why I am going. There are those spurs to win. I have to make
my mark."

"But it is sometimes a little difficult to make one's mark, isn't it?
You may be ever so long, and it must be a little hazardous in that
horrible cañon."

"If it gives me the right to come back, I think it will be very well
worth while."

"But suppose you don't succeed, after all?"

"That," admitted Nasmyth, "is a thing I daren't contemplate, because,
if it happened, it is scarcely likely that any of my friends at
Bonavista would ever be troubled with me again."

Violet looked away from him. "Ah," she said, "don't you think that
would be a little hard on them? Is it very easy for you to go away?"

The restraint Nasmyth had imposed upon himself suddenly deserted him.
He moved a little nearer to her, and seized one of her hands. She sat
still, and made no effort to draw it away from him.

"I had never meant to say what I am going to say just now," he
declared. "I had meant to wait until there was something successfully
accomplished to my credit. I am, you see, a thriftless, wandering
adventurer--one who has taken things as they came, and never has been
serious. When I have shown that I can also be something else, I shall
ask you formally if you will marry me. Until then the thing is, of
course, out of the question."

He broke off for a moment, and held her silent by a gesture until he
went on again. "I have been swept away, and even if you were willing
to make it, I would take no promise from you. Until I have won the
right to come back you must be absolutely free. Now you know this, it
would be very much wiser if I went away as soon as possible."

"Ah," the girl answered with a thrill in her voice, "whenever you come
back you will find me ready to listen to you."

Nasmyth let her hand go. "Now," he asserted, "I think I cannot fail.
Still, it must be remembered that you are absolutely free."

He would have said something more, but there was just then a laugh and
a patter of feet on the path above, and, looking up, he saw two of
Mrs. Acton's guests descending the bluff.

CHAPTER XX

NASMYTH GOES AWAY

Mrs. Acton was sitting on the veranda next morning when Nasmyth,
fresh from a swim in the deep cold water of the inlet, came up
across the clearing. It had brought a clear glow into his bronzed
skin and a brightness to his eyes, and as he flung a word to a man
who greeted him, his laugh had a clean, wholesome ring. He walked
straight toward the veranda, and Mrs. Acton, sitting still, favoured
him with a very keen and careful scrutiny. He was dressed in light
flannels, which, she admitted, became him rather well; but it was
the lithe gracefulness of his movements that she noticed most. His
easy, half-whimsical manner had their effect on her; they won her
favour. He was the kind of guest she had pleasure in welcoming at
Bonavista.

He went up the veranda stairway, and, stopping near where she was
sitting, looked down at her with a curious little glow in his eyes.
She started, for she had not expected to see it there so soon.

"You seem unusually satisfied with everything this morning," she
observed. "There is probably some cause for it?"

Nasmyth laughed. "I believe I am. As I dare say you have noticed,
tranquil contentment is one of my virtues. It is, however, one that is
remarkably easy to exercise at Bonavista."

"Still, contentment does not, as a rule, carry a young man very far in
this country. In fact, it is now and then a little difficult to
distinguish between it and something else that is less creditable to
the man who possesses it."

Nasmyth smiled good-humouredly. "Well," he replied, "I have discovered
that if you worry Fortune too much she resents it, and flies away from
you. It seems to me there is something to be said for the quietly
expectant attitude. After all, one is now and then given much more
than one could by any effort possibly deserve."

Mrs. Acton noticed the faint ring in his voice. "Ah," she said, "then
something of that kind has befallen you? Hadn't you better come to the
point?"

Nasmyth became grave. "Madam," he said, "I have a confession to make.
I am very much afraid I lost my head yesterday, and I should not be
astonished if you were very angry with me."

He spoke with a certain diffidence, and Mrs. Acton, who straightened
herself in her chair, watched him steadily while he made his
confession. He paused with a gesture of deprecation.

"In one sense, it is a preposterous folly, but I am not quite sure
that folly is not now and then better than wisdom," he added. "It has
certainly proved to be so in my case."

"No doubt." Mrs. Acton's tone was suggestive. "It is, however, Miss
Hamilton I am most interested in."

Nasmyth spread one hand out forcibly. "I want you to understand that
she is absolutely free. I have only told you because you once
mentioned that you considered her a ward of yours. Nothing will be
said to anybody else, and, if she should change her mind, I will not
complain. In fact, I have decided that it would be most fitting for me
to go away."

"I think," asserted Mrs. Acton, "you have been either too generous or
not quite generous enough. The trouble with men of your kind is that
when for once they take the trouble to reflect, they become too
cautious."

"I'm afraid I don't quite grasp the point of that."

"You should either have said nothing, which is the course you ought to
have adopted, or a little more. I fancy Violet would have been just as
pleased if you had shown yourself determined to make sure of her."

Nasmyth stood silent, and Mrs. Acton, who surveyed him again with
thoughtful eyes, was not surprised that he should have appealed to the
girl's imagination. The man was of a fine lean symmetry, and straight
of limb. The stamp of a clean life was on him, showing itself in the
brightness of his eyes and his clear bronzed skin, while he had, as
Wisbech had said, the classical Nasmyth features. These things, as
Mrs. Acton admitted, counted for something, while the faint lines upon
his face, and the suggestive hardness that now and then crept into it,
were, she decided, likely to excite a young woman's curiosity.

"Well," she said, "I feel myself considerably to blame, and I may
admit that I had at first intended to make my husband get rid of you.
I really don't know why I didn't. You can make what you like of
that."

Nasmyth bowed with a deferential smile, and she laughed.

"Still," she said, "you must go away. Violet must be free to change
her mind, and, after all, it's consoling to reflect that she has not
seen so very much of you yet. In one way, it would please me if she
did. It would free me of a rather heavy responsibility."

She stopped a moment, and looked at him with softening eyes. "Go and
run the water out of that valley, or do anything else that will make a
mark," she advised.

Nasmyth's face was set as he replied: "If the thing is in any way
possible, it shall be done. I think I will go into Victoria again
to-day."

He turned away and left her, and it was an hour later when she came
upon Violet sitting alone in a shady walk beneath the pines. She
looked at the girl severely.

"If I had been quite sure of what was going on, I should have sent
that young man away," she remarked. "As it is, I am very glad that he
is going to Victoria."

Violet slipped an arm about Mrs. Acton's neck and kissed her shyly.
"You would never have been so cruel, and now you are going to be my
friend," she said. "I don't want him to go back to that horrible
cañon."

Mrs. Acton smiled. "I almost feel that I could shake both of you, but
I suppose I shall have to marshal my forces on your behalf."

She set about her plans that evening, when she invaded Acton's
smoking-room, and her husband listened to her with a little dry
smile.

"I guess this is about the first time I have ever known you to do a
real foolish thing," he observed.

"Well," said Mrs. Acton, "it is, perhaps, to my credit that I have
done one now. Anyway, I like the man."

Acton nodded. "Oh, yes;" he agreed, "that's quite comprehensible.
There's a good deal of tone about him, but except with women that's
not a thing that counts in this country. It's the bulldog grip and
grit that goes farthest here--anyway, when a man has no money behind
him."

"You wouldn't consider Nasmyth a weak man?"

"Not in one way. When he's right up against it, he'll stiffen himself
and fight, but when the strain slackens a little his kind are apt to
let go too easily."

This, as a matter of fact, was more or less correct, but Mrs. Acton's
intention was not to discuss Nasmyth's character, and she smiled at
her husband.

"Well," she announced; "I expect you to take a hand in the thing."

Acton's gesture was expressive of resignation. "I guessed it. However,
it seems to me that young man has quite enough friends to give him a
shove here and there already. To begin with, there's Wisbech."

"What would Wisbech do?"

"Not much." And Acton smiled understandingly. "He means to let his
nephew feel his own feet. He's a sensible man. Then there's that man
Gordon from the Bush, and it seems I'm to do my share, too. Guess if I
was Nasmyth, I'd say 'thank you,' and go right ahead without listening
to one among the crowd of us."

"That," Mrs. Acton said, "isn't quite the question. I think I pointed
out what I expect from you."

Acton's eyes twinkled. "You did," he assured her. "I'll try to set
things in train the first time I go down to the city."

This was somewhat vague, but Mrs. Acton was satisfied. Nevertheless,
she said nothing to Nasmyth on the subject, and next afternoon he left
Bonavista for Victoria. A day or two later he called by appointment at
the office of a certain land exploitation agency, and found Hutton
waiting for him. Hutton, who sat with his elbows on the table, pointed
to a chair.

"You have taken my view of the thing?" he said in a questioning tone.
"If you'll sit down a minute, I'll call my clerk in, and he'll get the
papers ready."

Nasmyth smiled. "I don't think you need trouble to do that just yet.
You see, I haven't the least intention of closing with your offer."

It is just possible that Hutton had expected this, but, in any case,
he betrayed no astonishment. He leaned forward, regarding his visitor
with an almost expressionless face.

"Then," he returned, "I'll hear your proposition."

"What do you think of the one I had the pleasure of making you some
time ago?" Nasmyth inquired.

"Quite out of the question."

Nasmyth smiled. "That," he remarked, "is in one sense a pity, as I
couldn't repeat it to-day. If we are to do business together, I should
have to ask you for a considerably larger share of the profit. In
fact, I was wondering if you could see your way to offer half as much
again."

Hutton gazed at him with sardonic amusement. "Oh," he replied, "has
somebody left you a fortune, or are they going to run a railroad
through that valley?"

Nasmyth sat silent a moment or two, and it happened that his easy
indifference served him tolerably well. Had he been a keener man, the
anxiety to get about his work in the cañon, of which he was certainly
sensible, might have led to his undoing; but he was not one who often
erred through undue precipitancy. The waiting fight was, perhaps, the
one for which he was particularly adapted. If anything, he was rather
too much addicted to holding out his hand, and he realized that it
behooves the man without capital to be particularly wary in his
negotiations with the one in possession of money. His recent interview
with Violet Hamilton also had a stirring effect on him, and now he sat
quietly prepared to hold his own.

"No," he declared, "there has been no particular change in my affairs.
I have only been thinking things over, and it seems to me I ought to
get the terms I mentioned."

"Then you had better try. It won't be from any of the accredited land
agencies."

Nasmyth noticed the faint ring in his companion's voice. This, it
seemed to him, was not bluff. The man, he believed, meant what he
said.

"You seem quite sure of it," he observed.

As a matter of fact, Hutton was, but he felt annoyed with himself.

"Well," he said, "I naturally know what they would think of any
proposition like the one you made me. Anyway, as I suggested, all you
have to do is to try them."

Again Nasmyth, conscious that his companion was unobtrusively
watching him, sat silent a moment or two. He knew that if he broke
with Hutton he might have considerable difficulty in raising the money
he required from any corporation interested in such matters in that
city; but he had also another plan in his mind. He was far from sure
that the scheme would prove successful, and it was at least certain
that it would cost him a good deal of trouble to carry it out.

"Then I don't think I need keep you any longer," he told Hutton after
a long pause. "I'll leave the thing over for a day or two, and you can
send across to my hotel if you wish to discuss it again."

He rose and reached out for his hat, and Hutton, who watched him cross
the room, was once or twice on the point of calling him back. Hutton
did not speak, however, since he fancied that Nasmyth would presently
return of his own accord--which was an expectation that proved
unwarranted.

The office was on the second floor of a big stone building, and, as he
descended the stairway, Nasmyth fancied he caught sight of Martial in
the entrance-hall. Before he could be quite sure, the man turned down
a corridor, and Nasmyth, who did not trouble himself about the matter,
went out into the street. He was not altogether satisfied that he had
done wisely, but he meant, at least, to wait until events should prove
him wrong.

A few minutes later, Martial strolled into the office where Hutton
sat, and smiled at him suggestively. He was also, as Acton had once
told Nasmyth, interested in the land exploitation business, and it was
evident that Hutton had expected him.

"Nasmyth has been here," Martial observed; "I saw him on the stairway.
I suppose you got hold of him?"

Hutton's gesture was forcibly expressive of annoyance. "As a matter of
fact, I didn't," he confessed. "The man's either considerably smarter
than I gave him credit for being, or a thick-headed, obstinate fool.
The one's as hard to handle as the other. I don't know which he is,
and it doesn't greatly matter. The result's the same."

"I guess it's the latter;" and Martial laughed. "Well, since you can't
come to terms, have you any notion what his programme is?"

"It's not a sure thing that he has one. Anyway, he didn't mention it.
We'll let him wait a day or two. It's quite likely he'll try the
Charters people."

Both of them smiled, for it was then not an unusual thing for the men
interested in such affairs to put their heads together and take a
joint hand in any deal that seemed to warrant it, and when they did
so, the results were not, as a rule, encouraging to the outsider.

Martial looked at his comrade suggestively.

"I had a talk with Charters yesterday," he said. "He told me that if
there was anything in it, he didn't expect us to let the thing go."

Hutton thought for a moment. "One could sell quite a few ranches in
the valley; but it's going to cost considerable to run the water out,
and I can't quite put my hand on anybody I'd feel like trusting with
the work in the cañon. It's going to be difficult. Besides, Nasmyth
has what you might call a first option on the land. Nobody else seems
to want it, and the Crown people have evidently given way on a point
or two. It's a sure thing they'd make no concession if we show our
hands." He broke off for a moment, and flung a quick glance at his
visitor. "You don't like the man?"

"I don't," said Martial--"that's a solid fact. Still, it's not going
to count for much. This"--and he waved his hand--"is a matter of
business."

He sat still for a moment or two, with a curious look in his face; for
he had called at the hotel Acton's party had visited on the night that
he had endeavoured to crawl unobserved on board the _Tillicum_. He had
no difficulty in discovering that Mrs. Acton and Miss Hamilton had
spent the night there, which made it evident that the girl could not
have been on board the steamer. He had, however, not made the
inquiries until business took him to the hotel several weeks
afterwards, and Acton's manner, when they met in the city, convinced
him that the schooner men had been communicative. On thinking the
matter over, it became clear that Nasmyth and the skipper had played a
trick on him; and, since it had cost him Mrs. Acton's good-will,
without which he could not approach Miss Hamilton, he cherished a
bitter grievance against Nasmyth.

"Well," he inquired, "in case he tries to raise the money elsewhere,
what do you suggest?"

"I guess we'll let him try," answered Hutton. "He's not going to raise
much when things are humming and every man with capital is putting it
into mines and mills. Besides, the work in the cañon's evidently a big
undertaking, and it's going to run into a long bill for labour. A
thing of that kind usually costs four times as much as the man who
starts it figures. Well, we'll leave him to it, and when his money
runs out we'll chip in."

Martial laughed. "That's very much my notion. Let him do the work, and
then jump in and put up our dummies to locate all the land he can't
take hold of. Once we get a ranch or two recorded, there would be a
dozen ways we could get a grip on him. Between us and Charters, we
ought to break him."

They smiled at each other, but in a moment or two Hutton looked
thoughtful again.

"You want to understand," he said, "it's not my business to break
Nasmyth. It's the money I'm out for. In fact, if there's an easier way
than the one I suggested, I'm going to take it; and with that in view,
I'll send up a man or two I can rely on to investigate."

"If they get crawling round that cañon and up and down the valley, it
will set the blame settlers talking. We want the thing run quietly,"
Martial cautioned.

"I guess it can be done," replied Hutton. "They'll go camping out for
pleasure. In fact, to make the thing more like it, I'll send them
fishing." Martial rose. "Anyway," he said, "I'll leave it with you in
the meanwhile."

CHAPTER XXI

THE MEN OF THE BUSH

A cool shadow fell upon the descending trail that wound in among the
towering firs, and Nasmyth checked his jaded horse as he entered on
the last league of his long ride from the railroad. The red dust had
settled thick upon his city clothes, and for the first time he found
the restraint of them irksome. The band of his new hat had tightened
unpleasantly about his forehead, and in scrambling up the side of the
last high ridge which he had crossed, one neatly-fitting boot had
galled his foot, while he smiled with somewhat sinister amusement as
he felt the grip of the tight jacket on his shoulders. These were, as
he recognized, petty troubles, and he was rather astonished that he
should resent them, as he certainly did. He remembered that a little
while before he had made no complaint against the restraints of
civilization, and had, indeed, begun to shrink from the prospect of
going back to the untrammelled life of the wilderness.

But, as he straightened himself in his saddle and gazed down the deep
valley through which the trail twisted, he felt the shrinking melt
away. After all, there was something in the wilderness that appealed
to him. There was vigour in the clean smell of it, and the little
breeze that fanned his face was laden with the scent of the firs. The
trees rolled away before him in sombre battalions that dwindled far up
the rocky sides of the enfolding hills, and here and there a flood of
sunlight that struck in through the openings fell in streams of
burning gold upon their tremendous trunks. Beyond them the rugged
heights rose, mass on mass, against the western sky.

He rode into the shadow, and, though he thought of her, it was curious
that Violet Hamilton seemed to become less real to him as he pushed on
down the valley. He vaguely felt that he could not carry her with him
into the wilderness. She was a part of the civilization upon which he
had once more, for a time at least, turned his back, and he could not
fit her into the environment of that wild and rugged land. Indeed, he
remembered with a compassionate tenderness how she had shrunk from it
and clung to him--a forlorn, bedraggled object, in her tattered
dress--the day they floundered through the dripping Bush, and he
subconsciously braced himself for conflict as he thought of it. The
sooner his work was over, the sooner he could go back to her; but
there was, as he remembered, a great deal to be accomplished first.

Wrapped in thought as he was, he was surprised when he saw a faint
blue cloud of wood-smoke trailing out athwart the sombre firs in the
hollow beneath him. Then two figures became visible, moving upwards
along the strip of trail, and he drove the jaded horse forward as he
recognized them. He lost sight of them for a few minutes as he turned
aside to avoid a swampy spot, but when he had left it behind they were
close ahead in the middle of the trail, and it was with a thrill of
pleasure that he swung himself stiffly from the saddle.

With a smile on his bronzed face, Gordon stood looking at him. Gordon
was dressed in soil-stained garments of old blue duck, with a patch
cut from a cotton flour-bag on one of them. Laura Waynefleet stood a
little nearer, and there was also a welcome in her eyes. Nasmyth
noticed how curiously at home she seemed amidst that tremendous
colonnade of towering trunks. He shook hands with her, but it was
Gordon who spoke first.

"You have come back to us. We have been expecting you," he said.
"After all, store clothes and three well-laid meals a day are apt to
pall on one."

Nasmyth turned to Laura. "I should like to point out that this is the
man who urged me to go," he said. "One can't count on him."

"Oh, yes," admitted Gordon, "I certainly did urge you, but I guess I
knew what the result would be. It was the surest way of quieting you.
Anyway, you don't seem sorry to be back again?"

Nasmyth glanced at Laura.

"No," he said; "in some respects I'm very glad."

He became suddenly self-conscious as he saw Gordon's significant
smile. It suggested that he had, perhaps, made too great an admission,
and he wondered for the first time, with a certain uneasiness, whether
Gordon had mentioned Miss Hamilton to Laura, and, if that was the
case, what Miss Waynefleet thought about the subject.

Laura talked to him in her old friendly fashion as they walked on
towards the settlement, until Gordon broke in.

"I've called the boys together, as you suggested, and fixed up the
meeting for to-night," he said. "They'll be ready to give you a
hearing, after supper, in the hotel."

Laura left them on the outskirts of the settlement, and Gordon,
stopping a moment, looked hard at Nasmyth.

"I suppose you pledged yourself to that girl at Bonavista before you
came away?" he said.

"I did," Nasmyth admitted.

Gordon was silent for a moment or two. "Of course, I partly expected
it," he observed. "In fact, when I was talking to Miss Waynefleet
about you, I ventured to predict something of the kind."

The two men looked at each other for a moment, and then Nasmyth
smiled.

"You haven't anything else to say," he suggested.

"No," answered Gordon,--"at least, nothing that's very material.
Anyway, until we're through with the business we have on hand, you'll
have to put that girl right out of your mind."

They went on towards the little wooden hotel, and Nasmyth felt
unusually thoughtful as he walked beside his jaded horse. He
recognized that his comrade's last observation was more or less
warranted, and it was to some extent a relief to him when they reached
the veranda stairway and Gordon led the horse away toward the
stables.

It was rather more than an hour later when a specially invited company
of men who had, as they said, a stake in the district assembled in the
big general room of the hotel. There was about a dozen of them, men of
different birth and upbringing, though all had the same quiet brown
faces and steadiness of gaze. For the most part, they were dressed in
duck, though Waynefleet and the hotel-keeper wore city clothes. The
room was barely furnished, and panelled roughly with cedar-boards; but
it had wide casements, from which those who sat in it could look out
upon a strip of frothing river and the sombre forest that rolled up
the rocky hills. The windows were wide open, and the smell of
wood-smoke and the resinous odours of the firs flowed in. A look of
expectancy crept into the men's faces, and the murmur of their
conversation suddenly fell away, when Nasmyth sat down at the head of
the long table with Gordon at one side of him.

"Boys," said Nasmyth, "one or two of you know why Gordon asked you
here to meet me, but I had better roughly explain my project before I
go any further. I'll ask you to give me your close attention for the
next three or four minutes."

When he stopped speaking there was a very suggestive silence for a
moment. Those who heard him had not the quick temperament of the men
of the Western cities. They lived in the stillness of the Bush, and
thought before they undertook anything, though, when they moved, it
was usually to some purpose. One of the men stood up with a
deprecatory gesture.

"Well," he declared, "it's a great idea. Boys, wouldn't you call us
blame fools for not thinking of it before?"

He sat down suddenly, before anybody answered him, and the men were
still again until another of them rose.

"Nasmyth's not quite through yet," he said. "We'll ask him to go
ahead."

Gordon leaned forward, and touched his comrade's arm.

"Pitch it to them strong. You're getting hold," he whispered
encouragingly.

For another five minutes Nasmyth spoke as he felt that he had never
spoken before. He was intent and strung up, and he knew that a great
deal depended upon the effect he could make. He had failed with the
men of the cities, who wanted all the profit. He felt sure that he
would henceforward have one or two of them against him, and it was
clear that he must either abandon his project or win over these
hard-handed men of the Bush. With them behind him, there was, he felt,
little that he need shrink from attempting. A ring crept into his
voice as he went on, for he knew that he was getting hold as he saw
their lips set and the resolute expression of their eyes. They were
men who, by strenuous toil, wrung a bare living out of the forest, and
now there was laid before them a scheme that in its sheer daring
seized upon their attention.

"Boys," Nasmyth concluded, "I am in your hands. This thing is too big
for me to go into alone. Still, it's due to you to say that, while I
meant to give you an option of standing in, it seemed to me it would
simplify the thing if I raised most of the money before I came to you.
Money is usually scarce in the Bush."

"That's a fact," agreed the shrewd-faced hotel-keeper, who also
conducted the store. "Anyway, when you have to trade with folks who
take twelve months to square up their bills in."

Nobody seemed to heed him, and Nasmyth added:

"Well, I found I couldn't do it--that is, if I wanted to keep anything
for myself. I want you to come in, and as soon as I hear you're ready
to give it your attention, I'll lay a proposition before you."

He sat looking at them, in a state of tense anxiety, until one of them
rose to his feet.

"I guess you can count upon every one of us," he announced.

A reassuring murmur ran along the double row of men, and Nasmyth felt
a thrill of exultation.

"Thank you, boys," he said with evident gratitude. "Now, there are
difficulties to be grappled with. To begin with, the Crown authorities
would sooner have leased the valley to me, and it was some time before
they decided that as a special concession they would sell it in six
hundred and forty acre lots at the lowest figure for first-class
lands. The lots are to be laid off in rectangular blocks, and as the
valley is narrow and winding, that takes in a proportion of heavy
timber on the hill bench, and will not include quite a strip of
natural prairie, which remains with the Crown. The cost of the land
alone runs close on twenty thousand dollars, of which, one way or
another, I can raise about eight thousand."

He looked at Wheeler, who sat near the lower end of the table, and he
nodded.

"My offer stands," he said.

"You want another twelve thousand dollars," said the hotel-keeper
dubiously. "It's quite a pile of money."

There was a little laughter from the men. "Well," said one of them, "I
guess we can raise it somehow among us, but it's going to be a pull."

"Then," said Nasmyth, "we have provided for the cost of the land, but
before we lower the fall and cut the drainage trenches in the valley
we will run up a big bill--that is, if we hire hands. My notion is
that we undertake the work ourselves, and credit every man with his
share in it to count as a mortgage on the whole land that belongs to
us."

Waynefleet stood up and waved his hand. "I want to point out that this
is very vague," he objected. "The question will arise where the labour
is to be applied. It would, for instance, be scarcely judicious to
give a man a claim on everybody else for draining his own land."

He would have said more, but that Tom of Mattawa laid a hard hand on
his shoulder and jerked him back into his chair.

"Now," Tom admonished, "you just sit down. When Nasmyth takes this
thing in hand he'll put it through quite straight. What you'd do in a
month wouldn't count for five dollars, anyway."

Everybody laughed, and Wheeler spoke again. "We'll get over that
trouble by cutting so many big trenches only for the general benefit.
In the meanwhile Mr. Nasmyth said something about trustees."

"I did," said Nasmyth. "The Crown will sell in rectangular six hundred