That was all Deringham saw at first sight, but he realized that it was very beautiful, and then commenced to note details with observant eyes. There was a sawmill beside the river, for he could faintly hear a strident scream and see the blue smoke drifting in gauzy wisps across the hill. The square log-house which stood some little distance from the lake looked well built and substantial, and the road that wound through the green oblong had been skilfully laid with rounded strips sawn off the great fir-trunks. Sleek cattle stood apparently ready for dispatch in a corral, the yellowing oats beyond them were railed off by a six-foot fence, and behind the rows of sawn-off stumps which ringed about the clearing great trunks and branches lay piled in the confusion of the slashing. Deringham was not a farmer, but he was a man of affairs, and all he saw spoke to him of prosperity that sprang from strenuous energy and administrative ability.

"You are very silent," said his daughter. "What are you thinking?"

Deringham laughed a little, somewhat mirthlessly. "It occurs to me that whatever our unknown relative may be he is a good rancher, if this is his handiwork," he said. "Well, we shall see him very shortly."

The girl's fingers tightened a little on the switch she held. "We know what we shall find," she said with a gesture of cold disdain. "It would be so much easier if he had only been an educated Englishman!"

"Still," said Deringham dryly, "since we are ousted from Carnaby I do not see that it makes any great difference."

Miss Deringham's eyes sparkled, and a spot of colour tinged her cheeks. Her mother had been one of the Altons who had long been proud of Carnaby, and the instincts of the landholding race were strong within her.

"No?" she said, with a little scornful inflection. "And you could look on while a cattle-driving boor made himself a laughing-stock at Carnaby?"

Deringham smiled again. "I am," he said, "inclined to feel sorry for the Canadian, but you will at least be civil to him."

Miss Deringham made a little gesture of impatience. "You do not suppose I should be openly resentful?" she said.

Her father still appeared ironically amused. "I do not know that it would be necessary, but I fancy the Canadian will have cause to regret he is an Alton," he said. "No doubt it would be some solace to you to make him realize his offences, but I scarcely think it would be advisable."

Then they rode down into the valley, through oatfields, and between the tall fir-stumps that rose amidst the fern, under the boughs of an orchard, and up to the square log-house. Nobody came out to receive them, or answered their call, and Deringham, dismounting, helped his daughter down, and tethering the horses passed through the verandah into the house. The long table in the big log-walled room they entered was littered with unwashed plates. Torn over-alls and old knee-boots lay amidst the axes and big saws in one corner, the dust was heavy everywhere, and rifles and salmon-spears hung upon the walls. There was no sign of taste or comfort. Everything suggested grim utility, and the house was very still. The girl, who was tired, sat down with a little gesture of dismay.

"This is worse and worse," she said.

Deringham, who was fond of his daughter, laid a hand upon her shoulder reassuringly. "You can go on to Vancouver when you wish," said he. "Sit still and rest, while I see if there is anybody about."

He strolled round the homestead, and noticed that log barns and stables were all well built, while presently he found a man plucking fowls in a galvanized shed. There was a row of them before him, all without heads, while an ensanguined axe close by indicated the fashion of their execution. He glanced at Deringham a moment, and then fell to work again.

"Oh, yes, this is Somasco, and the finest ranch this side of the Fraser," he said. "Can you see Mr. Alton? Well, I figure he's busy, and you had better wait a little. Get hold of this. It's your supper."

Deringham recoiled a pace when a somewhat gory fowl struck him on the knee, and then sat down on a pile of cedar-wood staring at the speaker. "I wish to see Mr. Alton as soon as possible," he said.

The other man looked up again, and grinned. "You'd better not," said he. "Harry Alton's a bit short in temper when he's busy, and if you're peddling anything it would be better if you saw him after supper. Then if you can't make a deal you can go on to-morrow. There's plenty good straw in the barn."

Deringham was not especially flattered at being mistaken for a peddler, nor had the prospect of sleeping on straw any great attraction for him, but he had a sense of humour, and, being desirous of acquiring information, took up the fowl.

"Do you put up every stranger who calls here, and give him a fowl for supper? What am I to do with this one?" he said.

"Now, where did you come from?" said the other. "That's just what we do. A fowl's not much for a man, anyway, and Harry will eat two of them when he's hungry. What are you going to do with it? Well, you can, pull the feathers off it, and fix it for cooking, unless you like them better with their insides in."

Deringham gravely pulled out four or five feathers, and then, finding it more difficult than he had expected, desisted. "Mr. Alton is apparently not married," he said.

The man grinned. "No, Harry knows when he's well off, and it would take a woman with a mighty firm grip to manage him," said he. "Still, there's one or two of them quite ready to see what they could make of him, but Mrs. Margery scares them off when they come round bringing him little things, and Harry's a bit pernicketty. His father was a duke or something in the old country."

"Mrs. Margery?" said Deringham inquiringly.

"Yes," said the other. "She's not here just now, but she keeps the house for him. I help round and do the cooking."

Deringham, who could adapt himself to his surroundings, nodded. "That is what you would consider a soft job in this country?"

"Well," said the man grimly, as he pointed to the deformation of one lower limb, "I am not fond of it, but it's about all I'm good for now. That's where the axe went in, and anybody but Harry Alton might have fired me. It was my own blame foolishness, too, but when the doctor told him Harry comes to me. 'You needn't worry about one thing, anyway. There'll be a job for you just so long as you're wanting it,'" says he.

"He does that kind of thing sometimes?" said Deringham curiously.

"No, sir," said the other dryly. "He does it every time, but the devil himself wouldn't squeeze ten cents out of Harry if he didn't want to give it him. But how long are you going to be stripping that fowl?"

"As I'm afraid it would take me all night, I would prefer to give you a half-a-dollar to do it for me," said Deringham.

The man straightened himself a little, and Deringham received another surprise.

"Patent medicines and hair-growers are up?" said he.

"I don't quite understand," said Deringham quietly.

"No?" said the other. "Well, you will do presently unless you get right out of this shanty. I'm fit to make my wages yet, if I've only got one handy leg, and I can put my mark on any blame peddler who talks that way to me."

"I'm sorry," said Deringham gravely. "I have, you see, just come from England, where folks are not always so well paid as you seem to be. I think I will look for Mr. Alton. Can you tell me where he is?"

The man, who appeared a trifle mollified, pointed to the bush. "He's yonder, but if he scares you, you needn't blame me," he said.

Deringham picked his way amidst the six-foot fir-stumps girdled with tall fern, over a breadth of white ashes and charcoal where the newly-won land lay waiting for the plough, in and out amidst the chaos of trunks that lay piled athwart each other all round the clearing, and stopped close by three men who were making an onslaught on a majestic tree. Its topmost sprays towered two hundred feet above them, and the great trunk ran a stupendous column to the vault of dusky green above. It was, however, the men who most attracted Deringham's attention, and he stood for a moment watching them.

Two were poised on narrow boards notched into the tree a man's height from the ground, and one was huge and swarthy, so that the heavy axe he held seemed a toy in his great gnarled hand. The other, whose figure seemed in some respects familiar, stooped a little with the bright axe blade laid flat in one palm as though he were examining it, and Deringham, who could not see his face, turned towards another who sat at the foot of the tree sharpening a big saw. His overalls were in tolerable repair, while from an indefinite something in his face and the way he wore them Deringham set him down as an Englishman. Still, he did not think he was an Alton.

"Can you tell me where Mr. Henry Alton is?" he said. The young man nodded. "Harry!" he said.

Then the man on the plank above turned round, and Deringham felt inclined to gasp as he stood face to face with the new heir to Carnaby. The man was grimed with dust and ashes. His blue shirt rolled back to the shoulders left uncovered arms that were corded like a smith's, and was rent at the neck so that Deringham could see the finely-arched chest. The overalls, tight-belted round the waist, set off the solidity of his shoulders and the leanness of the flank, while with the first glance at his face Deringham recognized the teamster who had driven them through the bush.

He stood poised on the few inches of springy redwood looking down upon him with a grimly humorous twinkle in his eyes, but through the smears of perspiration and the charcoal grime Deringham now recognized the expression of quiet forcefulness and the directness of gaze which was his birthright.

"Mr. Henry Alton?" he said.

"Yes," said the other quietly.

There was a moment's embarrassing silence, for Alton said nothing further, and Deringham gazed at the man he had journeyed three thousand miles to see.

"I should like a little talk with you," he said presently.

"Can't oblige you," said the other. "I couldn't spare more than a minute now for a railroad director. You can tell me anything you want after supper."

Deringham lost a little of his usual serenity. "My business is of some importance," he said.

Alton smiled grimly. "I can't help that. So is mine," said he. "A lawyer, by the stamp of you. Well, you're trailing the wrong man, because I don't owe anybody money. We'll put you up to-night, and you can look for him to-morrow."

"I have come from Carnaby, England," said Deringham, watching the effect upon the man. "You are, I presume the grandson of its late owner."

This shot got home, but the effect was not altogether what Deringham had anticipated, for Alton's big hands tightened on the axe and his face grew very stern. "I'm not proud of the connection, anyway," he said. "Alton of Somasco is good enough for me."

"But," said Deringham quietly, "I have come to talk things over with you. Tristan Alton left you Carnaby."

Alton straightened himself a little and flung out an arm, while Deringham recognized the Alton pride as with a sweeping gesture he pointed to wide lake, forest-shrouded hillside, and the clearing in the valley.

"He turned out my father because he knew his mind, and now when there is no one else leaves me the played-out property. Thank God, I don't want it, while that's all mine," he said. "What brings you here to talk of Carnaby?"

Deringham smiled a little. "The executor sent me, and I have come a long way," said he. "When I tell you that I am Ralph Deringham you should know me."

Alton nodded gravely. "Then you can tell me all about it after supper, and we'll have plenty time for talking, because you'll stay a while with me," he said. "If you'll go back to the house you'll find some cigars that might please you in the bureau. Sorry I can't come with you, but I'm busy. Are you ready, Tom?"

He turned, and swung up the axe while the big bushman swept his blade aloft, and Deringham watched them curiously. Alton swayed with a steely suppleness from the waist, and the broad wedge of steel flashed about his head before it came down ringing. The man had a few inches of springy wood which bent and heaved beneath him to stand upon, but the great blade descended exactly where the last chip had lain, and when it hissed aloft again that of the silent axeman dropped into the notch it made. Deringham knew a little about a good many things, including sword-play, and he realized as he watched the whirl and flash of blades, precision of effort, and exactitude of time, that this was an example of man's mastery over the trenchant steel.

Presently the man with the saw rose and touched his shoulder. "I fancy we had better draw aside a little," he said. "She will come down in another minute just here."

Now Deringham had seen trees wedged over and drawn down by ropes in England, and wondered a little when the man pointed to the spot where he was standing.

"If you don't resent the question, how do you know?" he said.

The other man laughed a little. "Harry told me, and he's seldom more than a foot out," he said.

There was a groaning of fibres as Deringham drew aside, but the two figures on the springy planks still smote and swung, until simultaneously they flung the axes down and, sprang. Then the great fir quivered a little, toppled, lurched, and fell, and the hillside resounded to the thud it made. It also smote the trembling soil just where the man with the saw had indicated. Then Alton signed to his assistant, and strode away with the axe on his shoulder towards another tree. The saw-sharpener laughed a little as he sat down again.

"Now you have had your say it would be better if you waited until after supper," he said. "You see, one thing at one time is quite enough for Harry, and he really isn't in the least uncivil when you understand him. Still, it's no use trying to make him listen when he doesn't want to."

"That," said Deringham dryly, "was always one of the characteristics of his family. You are presumably an Englishman?"

The other man laughed a little. "Yes," he said, "I'm Charles Seaforth, better known to the boys here as the Honourable Charley, though I have no especial right to the title, and am fortunate in holding a small share in the Somasco ranch, which I owe to my partner's generosity."

"Do I understand that he gave it you?" said Deringham.

Seaforth nodded. "You would be near the mark if you came to that conclusion."

"And is Mr. Alton in the habit of making similar presents?" said Deringham.

Seaforth glanced towards the sinewy figure with the glinting axe, and smiled again. "That," he said quietly, "is one of the most generous men in the Dominion of Canada, but I should not care to be the man who attempted to take advantage of him."

Deringham said nothing further, though he was sensible of a slight uneasiness, and presently went back to the house to rejoin his daughter, while the dusk was creeping across the valley when the men from the sawmill and clearing came home, and Deringham led his daughter out when he heard Alton's voice in the verandah. The latter and his partner were together, and the girl at first felt a slight sense of relief as her glance fell upon Seaforth, who stood with his wide hat in his hand. He was, for that country, somewhat fastidious in dress, his eyes were mildly humorous, and his face was pleasant, while he had not as yet wholly lost the stamp of the graceful idler he had brought with him from England.

"This," said Deringham with the faintest trace of irony, "is our kinsman, Mr. Henry Alton of Carnaby. You have seen him already. My daughter Alice, Mr. Alton!"

The girl stood still a moment, and glanced at Seaforth, whom she could not recollect having seen before, with something that suggested not altogether unpleased surprise in her face. His appearance and attitude disarmed her, but as she was about to speak to him the other man moved so that the fading light fell full upon him. He stood, tall and almost statuesque in his torn overalls, with the misty pines rolling up the hillside behind him, and a big axe in his hand—a type, it seemed to her, of Western barbarity—and a red spot, faint but perceptible, rose into her cheeks as he bent his head. Then she came near forgetting what was due to both of them in her astonishment and anger.

"You!" she said.

"Yes," said the axeman gravely. "Still, your father made a little mistake. I'm Alton of Somasco."

Then he turned and moved forward with a gesture that was almost courtly. "You are very welcome to this poor house of mine," he said.



CHAPTER VI

MISS DERINGHAM MAKES FRIENDS

The Homeric supper was over, and Miss Deringham, who, sitting next to Alton at the head of the long table, had watched the stalwart axeman feed with sensations divided between disgust and wonder, was talking to Seaforth on the verandah, when her father sat by a window of the room his kinsman called his own. There were survey maps, tassels of oats, and a great Wapiti head upon the wall, while Alton himself lay almost full length in a deerhide chair. The window was open wide, and the vista of lake, pine-shrouded hillside, and snow, framed by its log casing, steeped in nocturnal harmonies of silver and blue. Out of the stillness came the scent of balsam, and the sighing of a little breeze amidst the pines.

Deringham held a good cigar, and there was a cup of coffee beside him, while he was not wholly sorry that they sat in darkness. He had realized that Alton of Somasco was by no means a fool, and waited his questions with some anxiety. The rancher, however, had apparently no present intention of asking any.

"So they've been wondering when I am coming over," he said reflectively. "I don't know that I'll come at all." Deringham looked down at his cigar to cover his astonishment. "But you are an Alton of Carnaby," he said.

"Yes," said Alton slowly. "But that is one of the things I want to forget. You see they drove my father out because he had the grit to marry the woman who loved him instead of another one who had the money, but you know all that?"

Deringham nodded, and Alton's face showed grim in the moonlight as he continued: "But what you don't know is how he fought his way uphill in this country, and what my mother suffered helping him. Oh, yes, I can remember her well, gentle, brave, and patient as she was, and know what it must have cost her to camp down alone in the bush, and fight through the hard winter in the ice and snow. Well, she was too good for this world, and she just faded out of it before the good time came. I think they must have a special place for women of her kind in the other one."

Deringham only nodded again, because this type of man was new to him, and he had learned to keep silent when in doubt; but Alton's big right hand closed into a fist.

"And now, when I have Somasco, the man who had not a dollar for his only son leaves me Carnaby," he said. "There. Look out and see. Timber, lake and clearing, cattle, mills, and crops, the finest ranch in the district. My father commenced it, and I have finished. The Almighty made him a man, and he wouldn't sell his birthright to loaf his days away, overfed, at Carnaby."

Alton dropped his cigar, and laughed a little. "Well, I'm talking like a fool again. There are times when I can't help it. It's a way of mine."

Deringham sat still smoking, and thinking rapidly. He had never had dealings with a man of this description before, but while he surmised that Alton of Somasco might under some conditions prove himself a headstrong fool, it was evident that there were limits to his folly. The man's handiwork spoke for him, and his energy and intentness had not escaped Deringham's attentions, while the occasional utterances that might have appeared bombastic coming from other men were redeemed in his case by the tone of naive sincerity and imperious ring. Deringham was becoming conscious of a vague respect for and fear of his companion.

"We are apparently no nearer the answer to my question," he said at length.

"No," said Alton, smiling. "This thing will take some thinking over. Carnaby isn't exactly what you call a rich property?"

"It is heavily encumbered," said Deringham, almost too eagerly.

Alton nodded, "Still, it must be worth a little, and would give the folks who lived there a standing in the old country?"

"Yes," said Deringham thoughtfully, and was once more astonished by his companion's answer.

"Well," he said slowly. "I was thinking about your daughter. All this, it seems to me, is mighty rough on her. It would hurt her to be turned out of Carnaby?"

"Isn't that beside the question?" said Deringham with a trace of stiffness.

Alton took up another cigar and lighted it. "I don't quite know that it is," he said. "You see, I remember a good deal what my mother had to put up with, and it has made me kind of sorry for women who have to do without the things they have been used to. Now Miss Deringham has had a pretty good time in the old country?"

Deringham moved his head very slightly. "I scarcely think we need go into that, but it is incontrovertible that the loss of Carnaby would make a difference to her," he said.

Alton sat silent a space, and then while Deringham wondered, smiled a little. "And she might have kept it but for a very little thing that happened a month or two ago," he said. "If the juniper-twigs had broken it would have saved considerable trouble to everybody. I was back there in the mountains looking for a silver lead, you see."

"Silver mines are, I understand, not always profitable to the man who finds them, and I should have fancied you had already sufficient scope for your energies," said Deringham dryly.

Alton laughed, but there was a trace of grimness in his voice. "If I once get my stakes in on the lead this one's going to be, and if I could get the dollars I could do a good deal for Somasco," he said. "We want roads and mills, the biggest orchard in the province, and a fruit cannery, and we're going to have them presently. That's why I wanted the silver."

"You did not find it then?" said Deringham, who was not unwilling to follow his companion from the former topic.

"No," said Alton, "not that time, but I will by and by. Well, there was a good deal of snow up in the ranges, and my feet got away from me one evening when we were crawling along the edge of a gully. There was a river and big boulders some five hundred feet below, and I slipped down, clawing at the snow, until I grabbed a little bunch of juniper just on the edge. Part of it tore up, but I got a grip of a better handful, and hung on to it, with most of me swinging over the gully. Charley was stripping off the pack-rope on the slope above, and he was mighty quick, but I knew that bush was coming away with me, and didn't think he could be fast enough. I didn't feel exactly happy, but while I've read that folks think of some astonishing things when they're starting out on the long trail, it wasn't that way with me. I could only remember there was a man I'd never got even with who'd badly cheated me."



Deringham felt a little shiver run through him, for there was a grim vindictiveness in the speaker's tone, and he felt that Alton of Somasco would not lightly forgive an injury.

"You managed to crawl up?" he said.

"No," said Alton simply, "I didn't. I lay there watching Charley, and felt the bush drawing out, until the rope came down and Charley hauled me up. It would have made a big difference to Miss Deringham if he'd been a second or two longer. Well, we'll have lots of time for talking, because you're out for your health, and we'll keep you right here until we see what Somasco can do for you, and just now I see Miss Deringham alone on the verandah."

He rose, and left Deringham sitting by the window. The moon had swung higher now, and the lake was a blaze of silver, but Deringham scarcely noticed it or the ethereal line of snow. In place of it he saw a shadowy figure hanging between earth and heaven with tense fingers gripping a little bush, while a river frothed down the black hollow five hundred feet below, and remembered that even in that moment the man who hung there regretted he could not repay somebody who had cheated him. Then he rose and moved once or twice up and down the room, his fancy still dwelling upon the picture. If the juniper-twigs had yielded it would have made a great difference to him as well as his daughter. He sat down again presently and stared at the valley, seeing nothing as he remembered that Alton of Somasco might go back to the ranges again, and then with an effort shook the fancies from him. They were not wholesome for a man hemmed in by difficulties as he was then.

In the meanwhile his daughter stood with one hand on the verandah balustrade, listening to the song of the river which came sonorously through the shadows of the bush. She also breathed in the scent of the firs, and found it pleasant, but it was instinctively she did so, for her thoughts were also busy. Alice Deringham had noticed her father's fits of abstraction as well as the anxiety in his face, and had no great difficulty in connecting them with the loss of Carnaby. She was also fond of him, for Deringham had shown only his better side to her, and sensible of a very bitter feeling towards the man who had supplanted him. In addition to this, she remembered the faint amusement in his eyes when he noticed the glint of a silver coin she held half-covered in her hand, and her pulses throbbed a little faster. The man had placed her in a ridiculous position, and had he guessed her feelings towards him he would probably not have made his appearance as he did just then.

The boards creaked behind her, and turning partly round she straightened herself with a slow sinuous gracefulness, and stood drawn up to her full height looking at the newcomer. He stood still a moment with veiled admiration in his eyes, and this was not altogether surprising in one who had dwelt for the most part far remote from civilization in the lonely bush. Alice Deringham had been considered somewhat of a beauty in London, and it was possible that she knew the pale moonlight and the harmonies of blue and silver she stood out against enhanced the symmetry of her outline. The man stood watching her with his head bent a trifle, but Miss Deringham evinced a fine indifference. She had formed a somewhat mistaken estimate of him already.

"I want to tell you that I'm sorry," he said.

The girl fancied she understood him, and it increased her anger, for the fact that this barbarian of the bush should venture to express pity for her was galling. Still, she had no intention of admitting it, and regarded him inquiringly with a half-contemptuous indifference which she had found especially effective with presumptuous young men in England. Somewhat to her astonishment it apparently had no result at all, for Alton returned her gaze gravely and without embarrassment.

"I don't understand," she said.

"I was hoping you would, because I felt I must tell you, and I'm not good at talking," said the man. "I can't help seeing that you are vexed with me."

If Alton had intended to be conciliatory he had signally failed, because Miss Deringham had no intention of admitting that anything he could do would cause her anger.

"I am afraid you are taking things for granted," she said.

Alton smiled gravely, and the girl noticed that he accepted the onus of the explanation she had forced upon him.

"I really don't think you should be," he said. "I can't help being Tristan Alton's grandson, you see, and we are some kind of relations and ought to be friendly."

Miss Deringham laughed a little. "Relations do not always love each other very much," said she.

"No," said Alton. "Still, I think they should, and, even if it hurts, I feel I've got to tell you I'm sorry. If you would only take it, it would please me to give you back Carnaby."

The girl almost gasped with astonishment and indignation. "That is a trifle unnecessary, since you know it is perfectly impossible," she said.

She had at last roused the man, for the moonlight showed a darker colour creeping into his tan. "I don't usually say more than I mean," he said. "Now we shall never understand each other unless you will talk quite straight with me."

Alice Deringham had not lost her discretion in her anger, and, since there was no avoiding the issue, decided it would be preferable to blame him for the lesser of his offences.

"Then," she said coldly, "it was somewhat difficult to appreciate the humour of the trick you played upon us. You may, however, have different notions as to what is tasteful in the Colonies."

Again the darker colour showed in Alton's bronzed forehead, but he spoke gravely. "I don't think that's quite fair," he said. "I am what the Almighty made me, a plain bushman who has had to work too hard for his living to learn to put things nicely, but I never came down to any meanness that would hurt a woman, and there isn't any need for a dainty English lady to point out the difference between herself and me."

"There may be less difference than you seem to fancy," said the girl a trifle maliciously. "You are Alton of Carnaby."

"Pshaw!" said the man with a little gesture of pride and impatience, which Miss Deringham was forced to admit became him. "I'm Alton of Somasco, and nobody gave it me. I won it from the lake and the forest that comes crawling in again—but I'm getting off the trail. I didn't know your father was coming here, and hadn't any notion who you were."

"That's curious, because he wrote to tell you," said the girl.

Alton flushed a little, for he was somewhat quick-tempered, and too proud to be otherwise than a veracious man. "Well," he said slowly, "I have the honour of telling you I didn't get the letter. There's a place called Somasco down in Vancouver."

Miss Deringham decided that she had ventured sufficiently far. Indeed, on subsequent reflection she was forced to admit that she had gone farther than was quite seemly, which somewhat naturally increased her displeasure against the man. In the meanwhile she, however, made a little gracious gesture. "Then I don't think the explanation was necessary," she said.

Alton laughed a little, and held out his hand. "Do you know I'm thankful that's over once for all, and now we can be friends," he said. "There are lots of things I can show you in the valley, and a good deal more that you can teach me."

Alice Deringham could not afterwards quite decide why she shook hands with him, for she had no intention of teaching him anything, just then; but she did, and felt as the hard brown fingers closed upon her own that the friendship of this curious man could in time of necessity be relied upon. In any case, and obeying some impulse, she shook off her chilliness, and asking questions about the district evinced a gracious interest in all he had to tell her, while presently induced by his naive frankness she smiled at him as she noticed him regarding her gravely.

"I presume a dress of this kind is scarcely suitable for the bush," she said.

Alton laughed. "I wasn't looking at the dress, though it's a very pretty one," he said. "You see, except my mother and Miss Townshead, I have never spoken to an English lady."

"But you must have been very young when you lost her," said the girl.

Alton took off his hat, and pointed to a hillside shrouded with sombre firs. "Yes," he said quietly. "She sleeps up there, and in a little while my father followed her. He was lonely without her, and because of what she had done for him, proud of his countrywomen. He often used to talk about them."

"And," said Alice Deringham, "you wondered if he was mistaken?"

Alton made a little gesture that in a curious fashion implied a wide chivalric faith. "No," he said gravely, "I believe he was right."

Miss Deringham felt a faint warmth creep into her cheek, and it was not because the speech might have been deemed a personal compliment. She saw a little deeper into the man's nature than that, and, if she had not, the tone of grave respect would have enlightened her. Then she turned with a little sense of relief as Deringham came out upon the verandah.

"I am pleased to see you and Mr. Alton have made friends," he said, and the girl, who noticed a faint twinkle in his eyes, turned quietly and looked down the valley as she remembered one odious clause in the will.

She rose early next morning, and flinging the window open to let in the glorious freshness heard a commotion below, while as she wondered as to the cause of it several pairs of old boots went gyrating over the balustrade of the verandah. A dilapidated saddle followed them, and then a cloud of dust rolled up, while she saw the new owner of Carnaby appear somewhat scantily attired out of the midst of it. He had a brush in one hand and seemed disturbed about something.

"Where the brimstone does Mrs. Margery keep the scrubbing soap?" he said.

Nobody answered him, and he moved back into the dust, while Seaforth was coming up the stairway carrying a mop and pail when a big empty oilcan smote him upon the chest. He dropped the pail and leaned a moment, gasping and dripping, against the balustrade.

"You might notice where you're throwing things," he said.

The dust rolled more thickly, and Alton's voice came out of it. "I hadn't time to be particular, and a sensible man would have got out of the way of it. Don't stand there, anyway, but help me fix this place fit for a lady before Miss Deringham gets up. Then you're going through to the railroad with the new pack-horse to wire for Mrs. Margery after breakfast."

"I don't think I am," said Seaforth. "Not on Julius Caesar, anyway. He will need a little more taming before I'm fit to ride him."

"Then," said Alton, laughing, "I guess you can shove him, because you'll want a horse to bring up the things you're going to wire Vancouver for, and Tom's off with the teams up the valley. Fetch some more water, and start in with the scrubbing. I don't want Miss Deringham to guess we've been doing anything unusual."

"If she doesn't hear you," said Seaforth, "she must be very deaf."

"Now," said Alton regretfully, "I never thought of that. Sit right down, Charley, and take your boots off."

"I am going to the well first," said Seaforth, who retired grinning, and Miss Deringham laughed softly as she heard the cautious movements of a big barefooted man floundering about clumsily with a brush or mop.

When she came down to breakfast, however, she was a little astonished. The room was swept, and garnished with cedar sprays, while though it smelled of some crude soap the aromatic sweetness of balsam was present too, and there were signs of taste in its decoration and the disposition of the splendid fruit upon the table. Alton had not plucked it all, and the golden apples and velvety peaches lay with their soft tinting enhanced amidst the leaves. When he came in, bright of eye and apparently glowing from a plunge in the river, she glanced at him with quiet amusement.

"You have been improving the place wonderfully," she said.

"You are pleased with it?" said the rancher, and the girl noticed the contentment in his eyes when she smiled approvingly.

"I think," she said, "it is very pretty."



CHAPTER VII

ALTON BLUNDERS

Deringham spent several weeks at Somasco without arriving at any understanding with its owner. This, however, did not cause him any great concern, because he had at his doctor's recommendation decided on a somewhat lengthy absence from England, and found himself regaining health and vigour with every day he passed in the pleasant valley. He was also desirous of gaining time, because he had left negotiations for the formation of a company to take over an enterprise he was interested in in train, and, while these could proceed as well without him, a favourable termination would, by relieving him from immediate financial anxiety, enable him if it seemed advisable to adopt a firmer tone in any discussion respecting Carnaby. Alton had in the meanwhile quietly avoided the subject.

Affairs were in this position when he sat one evening with his daughter on the verandah, glancing now and then down the valley. It was very still and peaceful, and trails of white mist crept about the pines, while, though the paling light still lingered high up upon the snow, a crescent moon was growing into visibility against the steely blueness behind the eastern shoulder of a hill. Deringham, however, was listening for the thud of hoofs, and wondering if the mounted man sent down to the settlement would bring any letters for him. His daughter sat close by him, dreamily watching the darkness roll higher about the pines. She had not as yet grown tired of Somasco, and found its owner an interesting study. He was of a type that was new to her, and the girl of a somewhat inquiring disposition.

Presently she turned to her father. "How long shall we stay here?" she said.

"I don't know," said Deringham. "It depends upon the Canadian, and in the meanwhile I am picking up a good deal of useful information about the mineral resources of this country. Alton of Somasco seems to be a somewhat intelligent man."

"Yes," said the girl thoughtfully. "It is a little difficult to dislike him."

"I," said her father, smiling, "do not know that there is any great necessity, or notice signs of a marked endeavour on your part to do so."

The girl glanced at him inquiringly. "You mean?" said she.

"Nothing," said Deringham. "Only the Canadian is also a man. Well, we shall be going on to Vancouver presently."

The girl laughed a little. "That is incontrovertible," she said. "Why not go on now?"

"There are reasons," said Deringham somewhat gravely. "For one thing I hope to be in a position shortly to make terms with him."

"But Carnaby is his," said the girl.

"Yes," said Deringham, "unless he gives it up."

His daughter appeared thoughtful. "I scarcely think he will!"

Deringham laughed a little. "It might be possible to find means of inducing him."

Alice Deringham shook her head. "From what I have seen of Mr. Alton, I fancy it would be difficult."

"Well," said Deringham dryly, "we shall see."

He had scarcely spoken when a soft drumming sound came out of the stillness. It grew steadily louder, was lost in the roar of the river, and rose more distinct again, while the girl, who realized that a man was riding up the valley, wondered with unusual curiosity what news he would bring. She also grew impatient, for that staccato drumming seemed to jar upon the harmonies of the evening, and she walked to the balustrade when the sound swelled into a thudding beat of hoofs. The man was crossing the oatfield at a gallop now. Then the sound rose muffled out of the gloom of the orchard the trail ran through, and she felt curiously expectant when once more the rider swung out into the shadowy clearing. She afterwards remembered the vague apprehension with which she watched and listened, for it seemed to her that some intangible peril was drawing nearer with the galloping horse. A minute or two later Seaforth came into the verandah with a packet of letters in his hand.

"There are several for you, sir," he said, handing Deringham some of them, and passed into the house shouting, "Harry."

Deringham glanced through his budget, and his face changed a little, while his daughter noticed the set of his lips and the clustering wrinkles about his eyes. There was a telegraphic message, but he put it aside and opened a bulky envelope whose stamp he recognized. Then the missive he took out rustled a little in his hand as he read:

"I'm afraid negotiations are not progressing well. Mortimer, as you will see by enclosed copies of correspondence, demands a revaluation which would not be advisable before he will underwrite any of the capital."

Deringham laid down the letter, and his daughter turned suddenly at his exclamation. "The fools should have bought him off!" he said.

Then he took up the telegraphic message and read, "Scheme impracticable. Cannot compromise with Mortimer. Harper and the Syndicate against us. Details following."

Deringham said nothing, but sat staring before him with a face that seemed to have grown suddenly grey and haggard, until his daughter spoke to him.

"Have you had bad news, father?" she said.

The man, who had been sitting so that the light which shone out from the room behind them fell upon him, moved. "I have," he said. "This message informs me that at least ten thousand pounds have been virtually taken out of my pocket. As it happened, I wanted the money somewhat badly."

He rose, and entering the house met Alton coming out of it. The Canadian brushed past him with a letter in his hand, and Deringham turned a moment and looked after him. The financier's face was not pleasant just then, and there was a curious glitter in his eyes, while Seaforth, who was following his comrade, stared at him as he passed, and came up with Alton on the verandah.

"What has gone wrong with Deringham?" he said.

"I don't know," said Alton lightly. "Do you think anything has?"

"That," said Seaforth, "is what I am asking you. He looked condemnably ugly just now. One could have fancied that he contemplated killing somebody."

Alton laughed. "Got a little business trip up, I expect," he said, and moved forward as he spoke. "Here's word from Mrs. Jimmy. She wants to know when I'm going to begin. Women are very persistent, Miss Deringham, but this one has some reason."

"They usually have," said the girl. "I do not, however, know Mrs. Jimmy."

"Of course," said Alton, smiling. "Still, I expect you'll see her up here presently."

It was a day or two later when Alton returned to the topic of Mrs. Jimmy, and he was then kneeling in the stern of a canoe which slid with a swift smoothness down the placid lake as he dipped the glistening paddle. Miss Deringham was seated forward on a pile of cedar-twigs, with a wet line in her fingers, and in no way disturbed by the fact that she had caught nothing. Such expeditions had become somewhat frequent of late, and though the girl sometimes wondered what she found to please her in the company and conversation of the bush rancher, the fact that she usually went with him when he crossed the lake remained.

"I have seen that trail of smoke up there before. Where does it come from?" she said languidly, pointing to a distant film of vapour that drifted in a faint blue wreath along the slope of a hill.

"That," said Alton, "is the Tyee mine."

"I have heard of it. They find silver there?"

"Yes," said Alton dryly. "They find a little."

"There is silver in those mountains, then?" said Miss Deringham.

Alton nodded. "Lots of it. Still, it costs a good deal to get out, and then it doesn't pay for the mining occasionally. That's the trouble with the Tyee."

"Still, it must pay somebody, or they would not go on," said Miss Deringham.

Alton laughed a little. "Oh, yes," he said dryly. "It pays a man called Hallam and some others of his kind who got up the company. Still, sometime and somehow, I think he will be sorry he stole poor folks' money."

"You," said Miss Deringham, smiling, "are an optimist, then?"

Alton gravely glanced about him, and the girl fancied she understood him as she followed his gaze from snowpeak down the great pine-shrouded hillside to the river frothing in the valley. "I don't know, but one feels there's something beyond all that," he said. "It didn't come there by accident, and it has all its work to do. Sun and frost and sliding snow grinding up the hillside very sure and slow, and the river sweeping what it gets from them way down the valley to spread new wheatfields out into the sea."

"But," said Miss Deringham, smiling, "we are speaking of men, and I don't quite see the connection."

"Well," said Alton, "they have their place in the great machine too, and must work like the rest, and do something to make it more fruitful, in return for the food the good earth gives them."

"A good many men don't seem to realize the obligation," said Miss Deringham.

Alton nodded. "No, but I can't help thinking they'll be dealt with somehow. They're just stealing from the others."

"You are a socialist, then?"

"No," said Alton, "I don't think I am. It seems to me that every man is entitled to all the dollars he can get by working for them honestly, and there's a place somewhere in this great world for him, if he has the grit to get up and look for it as he was meant to do, but it has no use for the man who wants to sit still and think about his dinner while other folks work for him."

"Still, he may have earned the right to do so," said the girl.

"Well," said Alton grimly, "most of that kind I've met with seemed to have stolen it, and one or two of them had, for a few thousand dollars, sent good men to their death. When you've seen your comrades sickening and starving on rotten provisions in the snow, or washed out down the valley by the bursting of a dam that was only built to sell, you begin to wonder whether it would be wrong to wipe out some of that crowd with the rifle."

The veins swelled on his forehead, and there was a smouldering fire in his eyes, while the girl suspected he was alluding to some especial member of the class, and noticed that his eye seemed to follow the smoke of the Tyee. Then he laughed.

"I guess I'm talking nonsense again, but there's a little behind it, and I feel that you can pick it out," he said. "Now I'm not good at amusing women, but you and Mrs. Jimmy seem to understand me."

"Who is Mrs. Jimmy, and does her husband belong to Somasco?" asked the girl, with a smile.

Alton laid down the paddle, and took off his hat. "Jimmy," he said solemnly, "is dead. He was my partner, and his wife is a friend of mine. She was in some ways very like you."

"They had a ranch up here?" said Miss Deringham languidly.

"No," said Alton. "It wasn't often they had ten dollars. She was a lady bar-keep down in Vancouver before she married Jimmy. He was a trail-chopper in this country. I don't know what he was in the old one."

"And," said Miss Deringham, "Mrs. Jimmy resembles me?"

She regretted it next moment when she saw Alton's face. It expressed subdued surprise, and the girl felt irritated with herself.

"Yes," he said gravely. "Human nature's much the same at the bottom, whether it has gold on the top of it or the dints of the hammer, and Mrs. Jimmy was good all through."

"That," said Miss Deringham, "is distinctly pretty."

"Well," said Alton smiling, "I didn't mean it that way. Work was scarce in the province, and I'd lost my cattle when Jimmy went up with me into the ranges to look for silver. He brought his wife along, because he had no dollars or anywhere to leave her, and it was a mighty tough place for a woman where we camped under the big glacier. We stayed right there most of the winter. There was only frost and snow, and the wind that whirled it about the pines, and, until it froze up, we lived a good deal on salmon from the river. They were dead when we got them, and some of them rotten."

Miss Deringham shivered. "And when the river froze?" she said.

"Then," said Alton gravely, "there were days when we lived on nothing, and worked until we couldn't hold the pick to keep from thinking. Still, we got a deer now and then, and we had a very little flour. It was mouldy when we bought it, but we hadn't dollars enough for anything better. Mrs. Jimmy got sick and thin, but she never grumbled, and was always waiting bright and smiling when we crawled back into the shanty. Anyway, we found no silver that would pay for the getting, though we knew it was there."

"How did you know that?" said Miss Deringham.

"Well," said Alton, "a Siwash told us something. He crawled in starving one day, and though we hadn't much over we fed him. For another thing we felt it in us that we were on the right trail."

"That," said the girl, "does not sound possible."

Alton nodded. "No," he said. "Still, one gets taught up there in the bush that there's more in a man than what some folks think of as his reason. Well, we made a tough fight, and were beaten."

Miss Deringham glanced at him covertly, and noticing his quiet, bronzed face, steady eyes, and big brown hands, felt that the struggle had been very grim and stubborn. "So you gave it up?" she said.

"Yes," said Alton, "for a time, and I had my hands full with other things when Jimmy went back again. He had piled up a few dollars and left the woman behind him. He took the trail with a good outfit and a pack-horse, but he didn't come down again, and when Mrs. Jimmy got anxious I went up to look for him. It was a good while before I found him sitting under a pine, and he had found the silver, though it wasn't much use to him."

"Was it a rich vein?" said the girl.

"Yes," said Alton solemnly, "I think it was, from the specimens he had brought along, but, and it's difficult sometimes to see why things should happen that way, he couldn't tell me where it was. Jimmy was dead, you see."

The girl shivered visibly. "It must have been horrible."

"No," said Alton gravely. "He was sitting there very quiet in the snow with his hand frozen on the rifle, and there was a big dead panther not far away; but I was more sorry for Mrs. Jimmy than I was for him. Jimmy hadn't always been a trail-chopper, and one could see he had been carrying a heavy load he brought out from the old country. I think he was tired."

"And the silver still lies hidden up there?" said Miss Deringham.

Alton nodded. "Yes," he said. "I've hunted for it twice, but couldn't find Jimmy's trail. By and by, and because the woman wants it, I'm going back again."

"But it would belong to anybody who found it now," said Miss Deringham.

"No," said Alton quietly. "A half of what I get there belongs to Mrs. Jimmy. The dead man has a claim."

"I am not sure that most men would think so. You are generous," said the girl.

"No," said Alton. "I'm just where I can, and it hurts me to owe anybody anything, whether it's a favour, or the other thing."

Miss Deringham understood him, and reflected as she glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes that her father would do well if he dealt openly with this man. She fancied he could be remorseless in a reckoning, and she had now and then of late had unpleasant suspicions respecting Deringham's intentions concerning him.

Alton took up the paddle, and the pair found Deringham waiting them when they landed. They crossed the valley together, and the girl, who had seen little of industrial activity, became interested when at her father's desire they followed Alton into the mill. A cloud of pungent smoke hung about it, and the steady pounding of an engine jarred through the monotone of the river, which was low just then, while there was a pleasant fragrance in the open-sided building where brawny men moved amidst the whirling dust with the precision of the machines they handled. Alice Deringham could see with untrained eyes that there was no waste of effort here. The great logs that slid in at one end passed straight forward over the rattling rollers, and made no deviation until they went out as planking. Silent men and whirring saws, whose strident scream changed to a deeper humming as they rent into the great redwood trunks, alike did their work with swift efficiency, and once more the girl glanced with a little wonder at the man who had organized it all.

"This appears to be a remarkably well-laid-out mill," said her father.

Alton laughed a little. "We shall have a bigger one by and by," he said. "The only thing I'm proud of is the planer, and she cost me a pile of dollars. I had to cut down all round before I could buy the thing, and then I pulled her all to pieces, and fixed her up myself."

Alice Deringham followed her father towards a big, humming machine that was tearing off the surface of the planks fed to it and flinging them out polished into whiteness. Alton glanced at it admiringly.

"Yes, I'm proud of that," he said. "It was a tight fit buying her, and now she's saving me dollars every day." Then he turned to a stooping man. "You're crowding her a little."

Alice Deringham noticed the resentment in the man's face, which was not a pleasant one, and that, in place of relaxing the pressure, he seemed to thrust a little more strenuously upon the plank he guided; but that was all she saw, for the next moment there was a crash and a loud whirring, and a cloud of woody dust was flung all over her.

Alton sprang forward through it, and a big leather belt suddenly stopped, but the girl could never clearly remember what happened next, for the dust still whirled about her. There, however, appeared to be a brief altercation, and as Alton moved towards him the other man dropped his hand to his belt. Guessing what the action meant, Alice Deringham shrank back with a little shiver, and her father appeared to grasp the man's shoulder. Alton swayed suddenly sideways, and then hurled himself forward, while next moment two men fell violently against the wrecked machine. One of them seemed to be helpless in the grasp of the other, and staggering clear of the planer they went reeling through the mill. Then there was a splash in the river, and Alton returned alone, breathless and somewhat white in face.

"Sorry, but there was no other way out of it," he said a trifle hoarsely. "Now I've got to size up the ruin, if you'll excuse me."

Deringham turned away with his daughter in time to see a dripping object crawl out on the opposite side of the river. "Are you still pleased with your tame bear?" he said ironically.

The girl laughed a little, though her colour was perhaps a trifle higher than usual. "There is a good deal of the beast still unsubdued in him," she said.

Deringham nodded. "Still, he had some provocation, and I think he was right. So far as I could follow the discussion, the other man meant to question his ability to dismiss him, with the pistol."

Alice Deringham said nothing further upon the subject until Alton joined them as they sat out on the verandah that night. "You are not pleased with me?" he said.

"There is nothing to warrant me telling you so, and I may have been mistaken," said the girl reflectively.

"No," said Alton, "that's the pity; but couldn't you remember just now and then that you are friends with me?"

"Things of this kind make it a little difficult," said Miss Deringham.

"Well," said Alton, "that machine cost me twelve months' grim self-denial, and the fellow broke it out of temper because I spoke to him."

"It was," said Miss Deringham, "sufficiently exasperating, but was the rest justifiable because you were a stronger or bolder man than him?"

Alton laughed a little. "You don't understand. I did it because I was afraid," said he. "Now if I hadn't been, I'd have backed that man right into the river without touching him."

The girl glanced at him and then lapsed into a ripple of laughter. "I'm afraid I must give you up," said she.

Just then Deringham came into the verandah, and Alton turned towards him. "It's a little difficult to put it as I would like to, but I'm glad it was you. You know what I mean."

Deringham appeared a trifle embarrassed. "I'm not sure that you are indebted to me at all," he said. "I only seized his shoulder, and you would not have expected me to look on?"

Alton shook his head. "I don't think he would have missed if you hadn't done it, and I will not forget," he said. "This thing will always count for a good deal between you and me."

He went away, and Alice Deringham glanced at her father with a flush in her face. "I did not understand before. The man had a pistol and you took it from him?"

"No," said Deringham, with a curious little laugh. "I meant to knock his arm up, and am not sure that I did it. It was, considering all things, a somewhat disinterested action."



CHAPTER VIII

HALLAM'S CONFEDERATE

It was about the middle of the afternoon of the day following Alton's affray with the workman when the cook came limping into the verandah of the Somasco ranch, where Deringham leaned, cigar in hand, against a pillar talking to his daughter. She lay in a hide chair Alton had found for her, listening more to the drowsy roar of the river than to her father, but she lifted her head when the man appeared. He carried a tray whereon were displayed a badly dinted metal teapot of considerable size, two large, flat cakes of bread, a can of condensed milk, and a saucer swimming with partially melted butter, which had resolved itself into little lumps of whitish grease and a thin golden fluid under the afternoon sun. He laid them on the table, and after deftly picking out one or two dead flies from the butter turned to the girl with a grin in which pride was evident, though it was apparently meant to be deprecatory.

"I guess this is the kind of thing you were used to in the old country, Miss," he said. "You have only got to tell me if you would fancy a piece of cold pork or other fixings."

Alice Deringham dared not glance at her father, who seemed to be gazing fixedly down the valley, but her lips quivered a little as she turned towards the man.

"I do not think we shall want anything else," she said with a serenity that cost her an effort, though it was excellently assumed.

The man limped away with the tray, though he stopped again at the foot of the stairway. "If you take a notion of that pork after all, hammer on the iron roofing sheet there, and I'll bring it right away," he said.

Alice Deringham waited until he was out of sight, and then lay back in her chair and laughed when her father glanced at her with a little grim smile.

"Savages, my dear!" he said. "Still, their intentions are evidently kindly, which is unfortunate because it involves us in a difficulty."

"A difficulty?"

Deringham nodded. "I have a suspicion that our estimable kinsman, who seems to consider that what is good enough for Somasco should content anybody, might be offended if we slighted his hospitality, and that teapot apparently contains at least three pints of strong green tea," he said. "I do not know whether you feel equal to consuming half of it, but if it is the same as I had at breakfast I must be excused. One could also fancy from their solidity that those cups had been intended for breaking stones with."

"I can at least pour the tea over the balustrade," said the girl. "It is the bread that presents the difficulty. It would crumble in your pocket, and you will presumably have to eat a little to save appearances."

Deringham made a gesture of resignation. "On condition that you do as much. I am not going to be the only victim, though I fancy you could not crumble that bread in a stamp battery. This meal, and what we have otherwise seen at Somasco, confirms my theory that the folks who make money in the Colonies could save as much, or more, in England if they lived in a similar fashion."

"Would it be worth while?" asked the girl with a little smile.

"It is a question of temperament," said Deringham. "Personally, I do not think it would. Indeed, one could fancy that a man of taste would sooner be interred decently, which is why I will take a very little of the tea. You see, our mode of life in England, unfortunately, depends to some extent upon my retaining the good will of Mr. Alton of Somasco. He will, however, have to excuse me from tasting his butter."

The girl poured a little of the tea into the cups, and then emptied the pot over the balustrade, which was, as it happened, a blunder, because while she endeavoured to crumble a small portion of the bread so as to convey the impression that she had been eating it, Alton and Seaforth came into the verandah.

The latter glanced at her, and, for he could not help it, a little smile flickered in his eyes.

"It is a very long while since I had afternoon tea, and I am not sure that Harry ever indulged in it in his life," he said. "I will bring some more cups if you will give us some."

Deringham looked at his daughter reproachfully, though his eyes twinkled, and for just a moment a flush crept into the girl's face, but she laughed as she said, "Then I must trouble to ask the cook for more water."

Alton hammered upon the suspended iron sheet, and in a minute or two the cook appeared again with a large plateful of sliced pork which he laid down before Miss Deringham.

"I was figuring you would change your mind, and if you want any more you have only to ask for it," he said.

It cost the girl an effort to repress a shiver of disgust, but though she succeeded Alton saw her face, and she noticed that the bronze grew a trifle darker in his forehead. It seemed that he guessed her thoughts, but the fact that he offered no explanation and made no excuse for the uninviting fare pleased her. She fancied she understood his reticence, and that it became him.

"Take that pork away, and bring more water!" he said, and there was a faint ring in his voice, as he turned to the cook.

The man, who took up the teapot, shook it, and then, as though still incredulous, lifted the lid and gazed inside it.

"More water?" he said.

"Yes," said Alton, a trifle harshly. "Get it right now!"

The man went away, and there was for almost a minute a somewhat unpleasant silence. Even Seaforth did not seem to know what to say, though he felt an absurd desire to laugh, and Alice Deringham was at once relieved and somewhat astonished when Alton put an end to it by a whimsical story of a raw Englishman's camp cookery. Seaforth followed it with a better one, and the whole four were laughing when the cook came back again. He smiled at them reassuringly as he put the teapot down.

"I guess there's enough this time," he said. "It's that full I could scarcely get the lid on."

The tea was strong, and acrid with the sting of the wood smoke, but there was no avoiding another cupful, and Deringham drank determinedly, while his daughter felt that she had made full atonement when she set her cup down half empty. Then Alton, who explained that he had something to attend to, went away, and Seaforth smiled at the girl when Deringham went in for another cigar.

"I wonder if one might venture to congratulate you on your resolution?" he said.

"If I knew exactly what you meant I could answer more readily," said Alice Deringham.

"Well," said Seaforth reflectively, "I fancy you do, and, if it's any comfort to you, I think Harry does too. He is considerably less of a fool than folks who do not understand this country might suppose him to be; but the point is, that if he can prevent it you will not suffer an infliction of this kind again."

"I wonder why you thought it worth while to tell me," said Alice Deringham. "Have I admitted that it was an affliction, or do you suppose I am very frightened of a little indifferent tea?"

Seaforth laughed. "I can't fancy you so fond of it as the cook seems to conclude, and I don't think indifferent was exactly the word. A stronger one would have been appropriate. Still, though I am not sure that you will understand me, I told you because I felt it was due to Harry. You see, his attitude was really the correct one, and taking him all round I am rather proud of him."

"Hasn't that an appearance of unnecessary patronage?" asked Miss Deringham, who was slightly nettled.

Seaforth nodded. "It has," he said. "Only that the feeling is shared by everybody in this district, it would be sheer presumption. Good wine, you know, needs no bush."

He went away because he had a suspicion that Alton would be wanting him, which was borne out when he found his comrade saddling a horse.

"Where are you going, Harry? We are not half way through with the sawlogs," he said.

"No," said Alton dryly. "Still, if you work hard enough, you and Tom should get them into the water before it's dark to-night. I'm going right down to Horton's."

Seaforth laughed. "I thought you would. Horton has, however, as much taste in china as the average mule. Don't leave it to him."

"How did you guess that?" and Alton stared at him.

"That," said Seaforth, "was delightfully simple. It is a little more difficult to decide what Miss Deringham, who is a quick-witted young woman, did with the tea. As you are quite aware, she did not drink it. Still, that is not the question. I'll write you out a little list of what is wanted—I used to know a little about china once, you see, and you tell Horton to send it on to Vancouver. How much would you care to spend, Harry?"

"Just whatever is necessary, but get the best," said Alton. "Write another list of cakes and jellies and things of that kind, too. Put down plenty."

Seaforth returned by the time the horse was saddled, with an envelope, and Alton, who took it, rode out at a gallop, for it was a long way to the settlement, and the evenings at the ranch had of late become very pleasant to him. He did not wish to lose a minute of one of them. He drew bridle, however, when he came up with two men standing in the narrow trail, one of whom signed to him. He was a small rancher, but it was not until the impatient horse plunged that Alton recognized the other, who moved aside, as the man he had thrown into the river. The rancher saw the glance that passed between them.

"Hallo!" he said. "Then you two had trouble when you split? Now, Damer was telling me he'd got kind of tired of saw milling."

Alton laughed. "That's quite likely," he said. "He showed it by breaking up my planer in a fit of temper, and I fired him."

Then he touched the horse with his heel, and Damer's gaze grew venomous as he watched him ride away down the shadowy trail. The rancher evidently noticed it.

"Now I begin to understand how you got your jacket tore up and that lump on your forehead," he said. "I wasn't quite sure about your tale, anyway, and if Harry fired you it was for something mean. You'll get no horse from me."

The other man said nothing as he turned away, but his face was not pleasant as he plodded down the trail, and those words of Alton's were to cost him dear, for if Damer had obtained the horse he wanted to carry him to the railroad he would in all probability have left the country, which would have prevented a good deal of trouble. As it was, however, he restrapped the roll of blankets on his back, and trudged on with bitterness in his heart under the heat of the afternoon. He had when he left the Somasco mill headed in the direction of the Tyee mine, and passed the night in the woods; but with the morning reflection came, and he had doubled on his trail and was then making for the railroad, stiff with fatigue. Each time he stumbled into a rut and the jolt shook him he remembered his last grievance against Alton, who had sent him on foot, and his frame of mind was not an enviable one when he limped into sight of the settlement as dusk was closing down.

He had made a long journey that day, and a good deal depended on the fact that he was weary and his boots galled him, because it had been his intention to push on to a ranch beyond the settlement before he slept, and hire a horse there. Damer was not especially sensitive, but he felt no great desire to encounter the badinage of the men generally to be found about the store, who, he surmised, would have heard by this time what had happened at the Somasco mill. Still, he was hungry and weary, and stopped a moment when he caught a blink of light between the trees. The bush behind him was very black and still, the dampness of the dew was on his dusty garments, and he shivered a little in the faint cold breeze that came down from the snow. Then more lights twinkled into brightness, a cheerful murmur of voices and a burst of laughter came out of the shadows, and the glow that broke out from the windows of Horton's store seemed curiously inviting. Damer, however, dallied still, and fumbled for his tobacco. He would sit down where he was and smoke, he said, and then attempt that last toilsome league.

As it happened, he could not find the tobacco, and having a hazy recollection of laying it on the ground the last time he filled his pipe, he shook his aching shoulders and trudged on. The loss of the tobacco decided him, and with a malediction on Alton he made for Horton's. It was also a fateful decision with far-reaching results he made just then. Supper had long been cleared away when he entered the general room of the hotel, and then stopped a moment with his hand on the door, for the one man who sat under the big lamp was the last person he desired to meet. He had, however, some papers spread out in front of him, and Damer decided to slip away quietly, but as he moved the blankets on his shoulders struck the door, which rattled, and the man looked up sharply. He had a fleshy face, and black beady eyes, which he fixed on Damer, who stood still, with a little, unpleasant smile.

"Come right in!" he said.

Damer smothered an anathema as he recognized the command in the tone. "No," he said. "If you don't mind, Mr. Hallam, I'll be getting on again."

"Come in!" said Hallam, a trifle more sharply, but for just a moment Damer remained motionless. A few steps would take him down the verandah stairway, and then the shadowy bush lay before him. Had he had a horse, he would have obeyed the impulse which prompted him to avoid the encounter; but, as it happened, owing to the fact that Alton had met the rancher who would otherwise have lent him one, he had none. So with evident unwillingness he came slowly forward, and dropping his bundles on the floor flung himself into a chair.

"Well," he said, "I'm here."

Hallam, who had been watching him, nodded reflectively. "I guess you didn't expect to find me, or you wouldn't have come," he said. "Where were you going?"

"To the railroad," said Damer. "Out of the country!"

"Without telling me? That was kind of foolish of you. Still, you haven't much sense, anyway. You had quite a well-paid job at Somasco."

"Well," said Damer dryly, "I haven't got it now."

Hallam laughed, though the glint in his eyes did not express good will. "You have got a temper that will be the ruin of you, and don't know when a man's too big for you, while, now I come to look at you, there's a lump on your forehead that makes the thing quite plain. You have been fooling with Alton, and he has 'most pounded the life out of you. Still, what do you want to leave the country for, anyway?"

Damer set his lips, and drummed with his fingers on the table. Then he made a little deprecatory gesture, and glanced at Hallam.

"You'll hear it all by and by, but there's one point where you're wrong," he said. "Now, I'm not scared too easily, but I kind of feel it in me I'll make nothing but trouble for myself by worrying Alton. Still, it's not the man himself I'm afraid of. I've met tougher ones, and come out ahead of them."

Hallam sat silent a moment, for he knew the prospectors and survey packers who passed their lives amidst the desolate ranges and in the shadowy bush and their superstitions.

"You have had trouble with him before?" he said.

"Yes," said Damer, "I have. He cut my partner down with an axe back there in Washington. It was in the big rush in the Baker foothills, and we had a hard crowd standing in with us; but I had to pull out, and Alton and another man made most of five thousand dollars out of the claim I left."

"The Bluebird?" said Hallam reflectively. "I remember that rush. Alton did himself well. Wasn't there a man called Nailer mixed up in the affair?"

"There was," said Damer, who seemed to shiver a little. "He was my partner. We'd have had the claim, and Alton wouldn't have worried anybody again, if Nailer had kept his nerve that night. Something went wrong with the spring of his Winchester.—and Alton didn't give him another chance."

The silence that followed was, somewhat impressive. Hallam was trying to remember what he had read about the affray in question in a Tacoma paper, while Damer once more saw in fancy a man spring half-dressed through the wisp of smoke that drifted about a little tent. He remembered with an unpleasant distinctness the crash of the rifle shot that rang amidst the shadowy pines, and the grim face of the man who whirled an axe that glinted in the moonlight about his head. He saw the flash of its descent—and then brushing the memories from him stretched out a hand that shook a little towards the whisky on the table.

"Well," he said, "I owe Alton a good deal, and that's why I went up to Somasco when you told me, but he has been too much for me again, and now I feel it in me that if I'm wise I'll let that man alone."

He drank a little whisky, and sat still, staring vacantly before him with a vague apprehension in his eyes, while the strained tenseness of his expression and attitude was not without its effect on Hallam, and it was unfortunate he did not yield to the impulse which prompted him to let Damer go. He, however, shook off the fancy with a little, impatient laugh.

"It's not going to suit me to have you slipping out of the country," he said. "I want you right here, though it would be quite easy to find a man with twice the grit you have in you. You let Alton whip you off your claim in Washington, and—for I've a notion of what has happened—'most pound the head off you yesterday. Now you want to light out, leaving him to laugh at you?"

Damer flushed a little, and a look of vindictive malice crept into his eyes as he rose.

"That's about enough!" he said. "You're quite a different man from Alton. I'm going on."

"Sit down!" said Hallam sharply. "I'm quite as dangerous to you. Take some more whisky, and listen to me, though I didn't think it would be necessary to go into the thing again. I was with the men who found Gordon at the bottom of his shaft on the Quatchigan."

Damer appeared irresolute, but he sat down. "Nobody knows how he got there."

"No? Well, I have a notion, and I guess Tom Winstanley and one other man could tell."

"Winstanley's dead."

Hallam laughed. "Still, the other man is on my pay-roll, but where you can't get at him unless I want you to. Now, are you going to gain anything by kicking against me?"

Damer was evidently astonished, and sat for almost a minute as though lost in reflection. Then he made a little gesture as one who abandons a struggle.

"I guess that takes me. What do you want?" he said.

"Nothing very much in the meanwhile. They'll start you rock-drilling at the Tyee, but it's quite likely I'll send you up into the ranges prospecting by and by. Still, I don't want any of the folks down here to know you're with me, and you'll start out by the railroad trail to-morrow, and wait at the lake until I come up with you. There's somebody coming now!"

Damer moved abruptly, for there was a step on the stairway, and as he reached the verandah a man brushed past him. He stopped, and for a moment Damer and Alton stood face to face. The latter, however, passed on, and swept his glance round the room, seeing only a man he did not recognize sitting at the opposite end with his back to him. Then he swung round again, and went down the stairway shouting, "Horton!" until a man came out from a shed at the back of the store.

"Well," he said, "I'm here. You needn't raise the whole place, Harry."

Alton laughed. "I've been up to Grantly's, and he's going in to the railroad to-morrow. You can send that order for the crockery along with him. Dollars are no object so long as it's pretty. The tea is to be the best they keep in Vancouver, too."

He swung himself into the saddle, and shook the bridle, while Damer leaned on the verandah balustrade gazing up the dusky trail he had taken until the last faint beat of horsehoofs sank into the silence of the bush. It was now very black and solemn, but away beyond it the snow still shone faintly cold and white against the sky, and once more Damer shivered a little as he turned towards the lighted store. He had meant to leave the country, but fate had been too strong for him, and remembering what Hallam had told him about the prospecting he wondered if he and Alton would meet again under that cold gleam of snow amidst the great desolation of the ranges.



CHAPTER IX

MISS DERINGHAM FEELS SLIGHTED

The morning was still and almost unpleasantly warm, but Miss Deringham looked very fresh and cool in her long white dress as she lay in a deerhide chair on the verandah of the Somasco ranch. She had hung her hat on the back of the chair, and a shaft of sunlight called up an answering brightness from the coils of lustrous hair. One foot in the scantiest form of slipper rested on the lowest rail of the balustrade, and she had slightly curled herself up in the chair in a fashion which implied a languid content with her surroundings, and that there was no longer any need for ceremony between herself and her companion. It is possible that Miss Deringham was aware of this, even if she had not intended to convey that impression.

Alton, who now wore a new jean jacket buttoned right up to the neck, leaned against a pillar, answering the questions of the girl, who glanced at him with a smile occasionally. He had, as usual, a good deal to do that day, and now and then turned his eyes towards the sun, as though noticing its height above the cedars, which did not, of course, escape Miss Deringham's attention. Still, he lingered upon the verandah, and what she deduced from this was not unpleasant to the girl. Though it still returned at increasing intervals, she had almost forgotten her antipathy to the man, and the fact that he was rapidly yielding to her refining and sometimes chastening influence was indirectly flattering. Miss Deringham experienced the more gratification in using it because he was quick-witted, and a veiled rebuke would bring a little darker colour into his sun-darkened face, and she could forgive his offences, which were indeed not frequent, for the sake of his penitence.

"You have been very patient," she said at length.

"No," said Alton with a twinkle in his eyes, "I don't think that is a thing anybody could bring up against me."

"Still," said the girl, "you have been an hour here talking to me, when you must have been dying to get away."

Alton laughed, and Miss Deringham found something pleasant in his naive directness. "Now, that's not fair. If I had been I should have gone," said he. "It would please me to stay right here and talk to you all day."

Miss Deringham shook her head reproachfully. "One should imply such things and not put them into words. Still, I scarcely think you will much longer have an opportunity. We are going on to Vancouver very shortly."

Alton's face grew clouded. "Why?" he said.

The girl laughed softly. "We have inconvenienced Mrs. Margery a good deal already, and it is evident that we cannot stay here for ever."

Alton moved abruptly, and his companion fancied she heard a stifled sigh. "No," he said gravely. "It's a pity; but you could wait for another month or two."

Alice Deringham smiled a little. "You and Charley will miss us, then?"

Alton nodded gravely, but there was a subdued brightness in his eyes, and the girl wished he would open them fully. She fancied he was putting considerable restraint upon himself. "I don't know about Charley. He can talk better than I can for himself, but I shall miss you all the time," he said. "This has been a revelation to me, and I feel that it is good for me to talk to you. Then, before you came I had a kind of bitter feeling against all my father's folks in England. I figured they were wrapped up in their cast-iron pride, and ready to trample on anybody who got in their way; but you have started me thinking differently, and it seems my duty to know more of them. After all, I am an Alton of Carnaby."

The girl smiled again. "You fancy you may have been wrong?"

The man's face flushed a little, and there was once more evidence of the self-restraint. "Yes," he said simply. "I know I was a fool."

He might have said a good deal more, and lessened the effect, for Miss Deringham had seen his face and read the respect in it. Its sincerity touched her, and she felt with a vague uneasiness that it would not be pleasant to face his contempt if he found it misplaced.

"And yet you take your father's part?" he said.

"Of course," said Alton simply. "What would any son do? But it seems to me there might be a little allowance for my grandfather, too, and I think he and my father have fixed up that quarrel long ago."

"They are both dead," said the girl with a little curiosity.

"Yes," said Alton, "and they kept their word, and died unyielding. Well, I think they were each right from their way of looking at the thing, and that being so they could only do what they did, and would respect each other for it when they meet where the long trail ends. My father was right in holding to the woman who loved him, and I think Tristan Alton knew it when he left Carnaby to me."

Miss Deringham seemed thoughtful. The man's grim code of honour, inflexible as it was primitive, caused her, for no apparent reason, indefinite misgivings, and she made a little gesture of weariness. "I think," she said, "it would be better if we did not talk of Carnaby, and I was wondering if it would be possible to catch a trout if there is a little more wind presently."

This was scarcely a correct rendering of her thoughts, for she was in reality desirous of ascertaining whether the man would, to afford her pleasure, thrust his work aside.

"Well," he said eagerly, "I shouldn't wonder if it would. Now, there's the planer to fix up, but that could wait a little, and—but here's someone coming!"

Miss Deringham was conscious of a trace of annoyance when a girl rode out of the orchard on a wiry little pony. She was dressed neatly and rode well, though the somewhat scanty skirt was evidently not the work of a habitmaker and had seen lengthy service, while the plain straw hat could not at the limit have cost more than a dollar; nor did she wear any gloves, and her hands were brown, while her face betokened exposure to frost and wind and sun. It was, however, a comely face, and Miss Deringham noticed that the girl carried herself gracefully. It was also curious that she was not wholly pleased when Alton went forward to greet the newcomer with his hat in his hand, and, she fancied, offered more assistance than was absolutely necessary in helping her down. Then they entered the verandah together, and Alice Deringham smiled in a fashion which did not pledge her to any extreme good-will when Alton presented the stranger.

"Miss Townshead, from the ranch back yonder," he said.

Miss Deringham said something of no importance, and waited with slightly unusual curiosity for the girl's answer, which somewhat astonished her. The voice was nicely modulated, and the intonation free from Western harshness and unmistakably English.

"You will come over and see us. It is a long time since we had a visit from anybody from England," she said. "Are you pleased with this country?"

Miss Deringham glanced at Alton. "I grow almost enthusiastic about it at times," she said. "Its inhabitants are also especially kind."

The man did not, however, respond as he might have done. "It's a tolerably good country," he said gravely, and then glanced at the stranger. "Nothing wrong at the ranch, I hope, Miss Nellie?"

"No,", said the girl. "We have, however, heard that Jack is seriously ill, and I rode over because the spotted steer has broken away, and I found the trail led into the Somasco valley. It was one of the beasts father was sending down to sell."

Alton became suddenly intent. "Then it has not gone far. I saw its trail an hour ago," he said. "Well, we must head the beast off before it gets into the thick timber under the range, and there's no time to lose. I'll be ready in two minutes. Would you like to follow with Charley, Miss Deringham?"

The time had scarcely been exceeded when he led a horse out of the stable, held his hand out for Miss Townshead to mount by, and then swung himself to the saddle. Then he and the girl swung across the clearing at a gallop, and Alice Deringham endeavoured to assure herself that she was not angry. It appeared that her angling was of considerably less importance than the capture of the steer.

It was possibly for this reason that she was unusually gracious to Seaforth, who came along just then, and though evidently in some haste, stopped to talk to her; while when she had promised to accompany him to witness the chase, and he strode away towards the stable, her father sauntered out of the house and glanced in her direction whimsically.

"It occurs to me that one of us is responsible for some irregularity in the work upon this ranch, and that the beast it a trifle uncertain in his moods," said he.

"It is," said his daughter, "a little difficult to understand you."

Deringham pointed to the two mounted figures just entering the brush, and the girl fancied that something had ruffled him. He could be unpleasant when that happened.

"Alton of Somasco is a somewhat busy man, but both he and his partner seem to have suspended their energies this morning," he said. "No doubt wild-beast taming has its fascination, but one might fancy it was apt to prove a somewhat disconcerting and perilous amusement."

"Yes?" said the girl in a tone of languid inquiry.

Deringham nodded. "One can never tell when the beast may revert to his primitive instincts, and do something unpleasant," he said. "This one is also evidently of somewhat uncertain temperament. We are told that Una had a lion, but the effect of the story would have been diminished if it had been recorded that the king of the forest divided his allegiance."

Miss Deringham was now convinced that her father was not pleased. "I have not noticed anything especially leonine about Mr. Seaforth," she said.

"No," said Deringham dryly. "The Honourable Charley appears to be an admirable young man of the domestic feline species, but I don't know of any reason that would make it advisable to waste powder and shot over him."

Miss Deringham rose languidly, but her father felt he had gone as far as was desirable, and went back to grapple with a financial difficulty from which he could see only one escape, while she rode away with Seaforth, who led out the horse reserved for her use. Alice Deringham could ride, but when they left the clearing and plunged into the bush she found that all she had been taught in England was not much use in British Columbia. There was no perceptible trail, and the horses floundered round great fallen trees, and plunged smashing through thickets of black raspberry and barberry. In places their flanks were brushed by tall, black-stemmed fern, and where the forest was more open treacherous gravel slipped beneath the hoofs that sank from sight amidst the blood-red clusters of the little wineberry. After an hour of it the girl was shaken and breathless, and she contemplated her habit somewhat ruefully when Seaforth drew bridle. Somewhere far up on a hill shoulder there was a smashing in the bush.

"Are you sure you have not lost the way?" she said. "It seems impossible for horses or cattle to get through this forest."

Seaforth laughed. "The bush is really thin here," he said. "Anybody used to it could get through at a gallop, while a good bushman could scarcely make five miles a day walking where it's tolerably thick. I wonder if you know that the ox was originally a denizen of the bush. I didn't until Harry told me. It always seemed to me a tranquil beast adapted for sober locomotion on nice green grass."

"And isn't it?" said the girl with indifference in her eyes. "Mr. Alton is an authority on cattle?"

"Harry," said Seaforth, smiling, "is, although one might not always fancy so, a complete encyclopaedia on everything useful. Anyway, from the sound up yonder you will presently see some of the primitive habits of the genus bos, and the spectacle may be the more interesting because the beast will if possible head away up that valley into fastnesses where only a prehistoric man with a tail could follow it."

Alice Deringham said nothing further and was glad of the rest. They had pulled their horses up on the slope of a hill which formed one side of a hollow out of which several valleys opened. There were great trees about them, and it was only here and there a ray of sunlight pierced the dim green shadow, while below them a stream went frothing down a miniature canon whose banks were cumbered by fallen timber. It was, the girl fancied, an especially difficult place for a horseman to pick his way through.

Meanwhile the sound above grew louder, and presently an object apparently travelling like a thunderbolt came out of the shadow. It was, notwithstanding the speed it made, gambolling playfully, with head tossed sideways and tail in the air, and when Miss Deringham fancied it must turn aside for a tangled brake, went smashing straight through it. As it emerged with an exultant flourish of head and tail two other objects became visible behind it, and Seaforth pushed forward when the mounted figures came sweeping down the mountain side. Here and there they swung wide round a fallen tree, but they rode straight through raspberry-canes and breast-high fern, and Alice Deringham wondered when she saw that one of them was a girl. She had left her hat somewhere in the bush, her hair streamed about her, the skirt was blown aside; but she held on with set lips and two vivid spots of colour in her warm-tinted face, a length or two behind her companion. He was riding hard, and there was a red smear across his face where a branch had smote him.

Miss Deringham turned to watch them, realizing that whatever the steer risked, its pursuers were in peril of life and limb. Sometimes one horse rose above fern and thicket, or twisted, apparently with the sinuosity of a snake, in and out amidst the clustered trunks, while once the girl lurched forward. Miss Deringham gasped, but part of the fluttering skirt was rent away, and the little lithe figure swept on again. The pair were, it was evident, closing with the steer, and the latter apparently cut off from the valley it made for by the ravine. This was not, however, to prove an insuperable obstacle, for as Miss Deringham with difficulty edged her horse nearer, the beast charged straight at the hollow, and dropped into it. Then, while she regarded its capture as certain, it rose into view again, and floundered up the almost vertical slope on the other side with no very obvious difficulty. Miss Deringham, who found this riding down of a Canadian steer almost as exciting as anything she had seen when following the English hounds, regretted that the ravine with its fringe of undergrowth and litter of netted branches must apparently put a stop to the pursuit. Though the width was not great, no horse, she fancied, would be expected to face it, and she watched the two figures flitting amidst the trunks to see when they would pull up.

There was, however, no sign that they intended to do so, and Miss Deringham gasped a little when Alton glanced for a moment over his shoulder.

"Pull him!" his voice reached her hoarsely, and she held her breath as she saw the man's hand move on the bridle and his heels pressed home. The horse swung clear of the thicket, plunged with head down, flung it up, and straightened itself again; there was a drumming of hoofs, and man and beast had shot forward from the bank. It seemed an appreciable time before they came down amidst the fern, and then Miss Deringham drew in her breath with a little sibilant sigh.

"Oh!" she said softly, and there was a great smashing as man and beast reeled through a brake on the other side.

"Yes," said Seaforth, "it was a tolerably risky thing, but it takes a good deal to turn Harry. Where's Nellie Townshead now?"

"There," said Miss Deringham, instinctively clenching her bridle. "Surely the girl cannot be going to try it."

"Good Lord!" said Seaforth under his breath, and the second figure rushed with streaming skirt and hair at the gap cleared by Alton's passage.

Then the man turned his head, and it was a moment before he looked round again, very white in face. "Thank Heaven!" he said hoarsely. "She's over."

Miss Deringham glanced at him curiously, and then laughed a little. "Miss Townshead is evidently a determined young woman," she said, with something in her manner which led Seaforth to fancy that this was not intended as a compliment. "But what is Mr. Alton doing?"