"Getting the rope ready," said Seaforth. "It's scarcely used in this country, but Harry once did some stock-riding on the prairie. We'll push on a little."

It became evident as they did so that the position favoured the pursuers now. A rock it was apparently incapable of climbing prevented the flight of the steer in one direction, and Miss Townshead had ridden forward ready to turn the beast if it attempted escape in another. It stopped with lowered head as though meditating an onslaught upon her, then wheeled again and came back towards Alton, who rose a trifle in his stirrups, whirling the rope about his head. It shot forward presently, uncoiling in a curve, and then the man swung backwards, wheeling his horse, and there was a crash as the steer went down amidst the fern.

"That should take a good deal of the friskiness out of it," said Seaforth. "We'll go across and join them. There's a way over somewhere."

The steer was roped to a tree when they came up with the pair, and Seaforth noticed with some inward amusement the way in which the two girls glanced at each other, and the contrast between them. Miss Deringham was almost too serene, and, he fancied, might have stepped out of a picture. Miss Townshead's cheeks were crimson, her skirt was rent, and, though she had evidently found opportunity to effect some alteration, loose wisps of hair still hung about her shoulders. They were, however, of a fine silky brown, and it seemed to Seaforth, might have been arranged in a more unbecoming fashion.

"I wonder if I might venture to congratulate you. We seldom witness horsemanship of this description in England," said Miss Deringham, with an inflection in her voice which Seaforth guessed the meaning of, and seemed to bring a slightly warmer tinge into the already carmine cheeks of the girl.

Still, she looked at the speaker with a little smile. "There is a difference between the two countries, and the scarcity of dollars in this one explains a good deal," she said.

Alton glanced at both of them with a slightly bewildered expression. "Of course!" said he. "The thing's quite simple. That steer is worth so many dollars to Miss Townshead's father, and he couldn't afford to lose them."

Alice Deringham turned aside with a just perceptible gesture of impatience, which Seaforth noticed and fancied he understood, though it was not apparent to the others, and while she rode on with him, Alton appeared thoughtful as he did something to his bridle. When he had finished it he saw that his companion was smiling at him.

"It seems to me there are a good many things I don't know," said he.

"Of course," said the girl lightly. "Still, I don't think I would worry over them if I were you. They are very trivial!"

Alton nodded sagely, and odd fragments of his conversation reached Miss Deringham. "We'll send someone back for the steer," he said. "Jack's no better?"

"No," said the girl, with a little quiver in her voice. "I am afraid the work is too hard for him up there."

Alton seemed thoughtful. "I wonder if he would come down and do something for me," he said. "I could find a use for another man or two, you see."

Again the little flush of crimson crept into Miss Townshead's cheeks. "I don't think so; he seems to fancy he can get into the C.P.R. service when he is better."

"Well," said Alton, "I'm going to take a liberty. Jack wouldn't have gone up yonder if you hadn't wanted the dollars?"

Nellie Townshead looked down a moment, then swiftly raised her head, and though her fingers seemed to tighten on the bridle there was a curious steadiness in her eyes. "There is," she said, "no use in denying what everybody knows."

Alton nodded. "I know that kind of worry, and it's a bad one. Has Hallam got a hold upon the ranch?"

Miss Townshead appeared astonished, and did not answer for a moment. "I fancied you did not know, but he has," she said. "He came up to see my father a week ago, and that is why we are selling the stock."

Alton's face darkened. "That man's of the same breed as the panther, only the panther lets up when he's full. Well, you needn't tell me any more. Interest's high in this country, but it's a pity your father———"

He stopped a moment, and appeared a trifle embarrassed when the girl regarded him with a little flash in her eyes. "My father has done his best," she said.

"Of course!" said Alton hastily. "Well, now, Hallam wants your ranch, and when that man wants a thing it's bad to keep him from getting it, but it wouldn't please me to see him take the ranch. I wonder if you can figure what his next move will be?"

The girl's fingers trembled, but there was patience and courage in her eyes. "I am afraid I can," said she. "We shall be sold up and driven out very shortly."

Alton shook his head. "I wouldn't count too much on that. Hallam's bad all through, but there are one or two other men who will have a finger in what's going to be made out of this country, and it would be a favour if when he shuts down on you, you send word to me."

The girl did not look at the man, but rode silent for a while. "I think I understand you, and you are very kind—but it is impossible."

"No," said Alton grimly. "You don't understand me. There's not room enough up here for Hallam and me, and I've a deal to square off with him already. Now when you get your notice you will send word to me?"

"Yes," said the girl, as one making a swift decision, and there was a sudden flash of hope in her eyes.

"That is a bargain," said Alton, with the little soft laugh of his. "Then when the deal's fixed up all the winnings will not be counted over by Mr. Hallam."

Miss Deringham heard nothing further, and understood very little of what had reached her, while though unusually gracious to Seaforth she found him distinctly unresponsive.

She, however, lent Miss Townshead a hat when they reached the ranch, and made no comment when Seaforth rode home with her. It was late that night when the latter found Alton smoking in a somewhat dubious mood upon the verandah.

"Is there anything worrying you?" said he.

"Oh, yes," said Alton grimly. "There's work of all kinds waiting, and nothing done to-day. Somehow women seem to play the devil with a man's plans, Charley."

"Yes," said Seaforth, "they not infrequently do."

"Well," said Alton, "I wouldn't mind so much if I'd pleased anybody, but I haven't, you see. I was talking at large about something after we'd got the steer, when Miss Nellie turned right round on me. Then I came back here, and Miss Deringham didn't seem pleased with me."

"Did she tell you so?" said Seaforth, smiling, and Alton turned upon him savagely.

"No, sir, she did not," said he. "Anyway, it wasn't necessary. You understand these folks from the old country, Charley?"

"It is," said Seaforth dryly, "a tolerably bold venture to assert that one understands anybody."

"Well," said Alton, "you know what I mean. Now do you think Miss Deringham was vexed because she didn't get that fishing? You see she is tolerably keen on it. Of course, if I had thought of it I might have sent you with her."

"No," said Seaforth, smiling. "I should scarcely fancy that was the reason, and I don't fancy the arrangement suggested would have given Miss Deringham any great pleasure. Nor do I think I should have gone."

"No?" said Alton inquiringly.

"No," said Seaforth dryly. "I'm not Alton of Somasco—and Carnaby—you see."

Alton regarded him sternly out of half-closed eyes. "There are jokes that don't please me, Charley," he said, and then laughed softly. "I'm a fool with a red-hot temper, but it's a consolation that I know a bigger one than me."

"You need not be bashful, Harry. You mean me?"

Alton nodded as he turned upon his heel, and Seaforth watched him meditatively. "I wish I was as sure of it as you seem to be," said he. "Well, I'm occasionally thankful I'm not a rich man, nor much of a beauty."



CHAPTER X

THE UNDELIVERED MESSAGE

The afternoon was slipping by when, some time after the capture of the steer, Alice Deringham sat waiting for Alton under a big fir. He had promised to take her out upon the lake, and the little breeze that stirred the cedars to drowsy music would, she knew, ripple the shining surface and render the capture of a big trout the less problematical. The trout of British Columbia are also at least equal to those of England in their faculties of discrimination and observation, and during the listless autumn days Miss Deringham's angling had not been especially successful. Still, though she not infrequently returned with an empty basket, the girl apparently retained an enthusiasm for it she had not always displayed at home.

The lake she declared was beautiful, and this was beyond contravention, while even when no splash disturbed its mirror-like shining she found it pleasant to slide across its black depths in a light canoe. She knew, and so did Alton, that under those conditions the silver and vermilion lure would have been quite as useful in the bottom of the craft, but the man usually seemed too content to lazily dip the paddle while the girl would lead him on to talk with judicious questions. Alton could on occasion talk well, displaying a vigour and freshness of thought which at the commencement had slightly astonished his companion, who found a curious pleasure in sounding this and that depth of his nature.

As a rule, he responded readily, and she was conscious of the same sense of power that a master of the organ might feel as his fingers touched the stops and keys. Alton had lived simply in close touch with nature, and though he had read much, his thoughts had something of the pristine purity and vigour of the land he dwelt in, and were in a fashion musical; but now and then the girl venturing overfar chanced upon a chord that rang harsh and discordant, and shrinking a little recognized, she fancied, the undertone of primitive barbarity.

On the afternoon in question she was, however, slightly angry with him. He had fixed no special time, but she had waited some while, and Alice Deringham preferred that other people should wait for her. She had also taken some pains with her toilet and though her attire was neat in place of ornate, its simplicity was the result of lavish expenditure and artistic selection. To some extent, and so far as she could ascertain it, it was also in accordance with the taste of the man who was to accompany her.

It was very still. Nobody moved in the clearing, though from beyond it rose the faint humming of saws, and the little breeze was heavy with a resinous fragrance. The log-house was silent save for an occasional clatter from the kitchen, where Mrs. Margery was apparently busy. Alice Deringham did not like Mrs. Margery, and had reason to believe the latter returned the feeling, though she had noticed that the somewhat grim old lady had a smile that was almost gentle for rancher Townshead's daughter. Presently the rattle of plates also ceased, and the girl found the silence exasperating. The time was slipping by, and there was still no sign of Alton.

At last, however, there was a thud of horsehoofs in the orchard, and a man rode out from among the trees, but Miss Deringham, who had risen with a smile, shut the fingers of one hand a trifle viciously when she saw that it was not Alton. The man sat loosely in his saddle, and his face was a trifle flushed when he pulled the horse up.

"Is Harry Alton anywhere around, miss?" he said, and the girl noticed that his voice was uneven.

"He may be here presently," she said. "I don't know where he is."

"I've a long way to ride, and can't wait for him," said the man, swaying a little as he gathered up the bridle. "There seems to be nobody around the place, and when he comes you might tell him to go up to Townshead's as soon as he can. Miss Nellie's wanting to see him, and it's Thursday."

"Thursday?" said Miss Deringham.

"Yes," said the man. "Harry will understand. There was some more about it, but I've forgotten it. Well, you'll tell him. I must be getting on."

He lurched when the horse started, and though most men are abstemious in that country, Alice Deringham decided that he was under the influence of alcohol. She also felt distinctly displeased with him for bringing his message before she and Alton had set out for the lake. It was a favourable afternoon for fishing, and not pleasant to reflect that her amusement must be deferred at the bidding of the girl from the ranch. Then she decided that as Alton would not have received the message had he come when she expected him, it would not make any great difference if he did not hear it until their return. Miss Deringham did not remember by what reasoning she arrived at that result, but it seemed to her distinctly more fitting that Miss Townshead should be the one to wait.

Ten minutes later Alton rode up at a gallop. "Sorry I couldn't come before, but I was over at Thomson's borrowing a new trolling spoon," he said. "Jimmy's too slow for anything, and I had to look at a span of oxen he'd been buying."

"It seems to me that leisureliness is a characteristic of the country," said the girl.

Alton glanced at her with a faint twinkle in his eyes. "Now if you feel vexed with me, look at the horse," said he. "Anyway, the canoe's ready and the lake all rippling, and I've one of the new flight-hook spoons."

Miss Deringham, who saw the spume upon the bit and the horse's whitened sides, smiled graciously, and decided that Nellie Townshead's message could very well wait until the evening.

"I will be ready in about five minutes," she said.

She kept the man waiting twenty, possibly because she believed it would be a salutary discipline, and was not displeased to notice that he stamped impatiently up and down. Then she went down with him to the lake, and it was dusk when they returned with several fine trout, in the state of content with each other which occasionally characterizes comrades in a successful angling expedition. They had also so much to talk about that Miss Deringham completely forgot the message, and her pleasure was only dissipated when she met her father alone for a minute. His pose expressed dejection and indecision as he came towards her along the verandah.

"You do not look well," she said.

"That," said Deringham dryly, "is quite possible. Things are not going well with me just now."

"Business worries?" said the girl.

Deringham nodded. "And domestic too, if the affairs of Carnaby come under that heading. In fact, I am hemmed in by difficulties I cannot see a way through, and to make it worse Alton will come to no decision until he has sent somebody over to report upon the property. I have wondered now and then if he was talking altogether at random when he told you that he was willing to give it you."

"Of course!" said his daughter, smiling outwardly to cover her indignation. "It would be preposterous to think that I could accept such a favour even if he had the slightest intention of relinquishing his claim!"

"Yes," said Deringham dryly. "Still, I fancy there are young women who would not disdain to be mistress of Carnaby."

The girl straightened herself a little, and the colour crept into her face. "Do not be foolish, father. You cannot fancy that the man was speaking seriously."

"I don't know," said Deringham. "I am not sure that he does himself, and if you do not, there is an end of the affair. Still, if there had been anything in the speech the possibility alluded to would have lifted a great load from me."

He said nothing further, but passed on, leaving the girl standing on the verandah with head bent a trifle, and a face that was less cold in colouring than usual. Presently, however, she stood upright suddenly as Alton came up the stairway, but not before he had seen her. After a swift glance at her he put his hand gently on her shoulder.

"You are in some trouble. Can't you tell me what it is?" he said.

Alice Deringham could just see his face in the moonlight, and it was gravely compassionate, but there was in it, none of the personal admiration she had sometimes noticed there, which had its effect upon her attitude towards him. He was, she felt, sorry for her because she was a woman menaced by some difficulty, and that she should be an object of pity to this bush rancher stung the pride, of which she had a good deal. Had he tendered his sympathy because she was Alice Deringham it is possible that she would have told him something, though not exactly the simple state of the case. As it was, however, she shook his hand off, and looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Why should you suppose that, and venture to presume upon it?" she said.

"Would it be presuming?"

"It would," said the girl very coldly.

"Then," said Alton, "you can't tell me?"

"No, of course not. Is there any reason why I should?"

Here at least was an opportunity, but if the man desired to gain his companion's confidence he made an indifferent use of it. "We are some kind of relations, and you promised to be friends with me," he said.

Miss Deringham laughed a little. "One seldom tells one's troubles to one's friends," she said.

Alton seemed to sigh. "Then there is nothing I can do?"

"Yes," said Miss Deringham. "People are usually best alone when they have to grapple with a difficulty."

Alton still lingered a moment. "If you don't want to tell me, I don't know how to make you, and I'm sorry, because I might fix the thing up," he said gravely. "Well, I'm going, but it hurts me to see anything worrying you, and know that somebody else has brought it upon you."

"How could you know that?" said the girl.

The man smiled a little. "It's quite simple," said he, "You are too good and kind to bring sorrow upon yourself or anybody."

This was much better, but it was over-late now, and, for the girl said nothing, he moved away, and presently met Seaforth as he strode down the trail.

"Hallo!" said the latter. "Where are you going, Harry?"

"I know where you can go," said Alton grimly, "and that's right away to the devil."

Seaforth laughed a little. "And that's the woman's work. It's a pity Harry can't distinguish between paste and diamonds," said he.

It happened about this time that Miss Townshead sat in an attitude of expectancy in her father's house. Townshead, still wearing the red velvet jacket, sat in the old leather chair, with the resignation of the incapable stamped upon him, and the cigar and cup of coffee close by. His attitude seemed to imply that he was a very ill-used man, but had discovered that it was no use protesting. He sipped his coffee delicately, and then glanced towards his daughter with a trace of irritation.

"I wish you could keep still, my dear," he said. "There is an inquietude in your very pose that unsettles me, and with a little fortitude one can get used to anything. For instance, if anybody had told me five years ago that I could take my after-dinner coffee without a slight flavour of old cognac I should not have believed them."

Nellie Townshead evinced a little impatience. "It might be slightly more difficult to dispense with the dinner, as well as the coffee, and that is what we shall probably have to do presently," said she. "Why did you borrow that money from Mr. Hallam, father? Any one could have seen that he was a rascal, and I believe that Mr. Seaforth warned you."

Townshead sighed. "The difficulty," he said, "is to arrive at a correct decision before one knows what will happen. Afterwards, it is comparatively easy. It appeared desirable to buy some cattle, and that I should visit Victoria, where I made an unfortunate speculation, to recuperate after my last attack. During my absence Jack, as you will remember, lost some of the cattle and mismanaged the ranch. Mr. Seaforth is also a young man who occasionally takes too much upon himself."

The girl flushed a little. "Jack worked from morning to night, and if we had spent a few dollars hiring somebody to help him, it would have been better for all of us," she said. "That, however, is not the question. What are we to do when we are turned out of the ranch, as we shall be very shortly?"

"There is," said Townshead, "no use in anticipating unpleasant probabilities. We will in the first place go down to Vancouver, where I fancy you will be able to earn a moderate sum by typewriting. The use of the instrument is, I understand, readily acquired, and while I regret the necessity for a daughter of mine to follow such an occupation, the emolument appears to be reasonable."

Nellie Townshead smiled somewhat bitterly, for the fact that she had ridden after straying cattle, and done a good many things that women do not usually undertake upon the ranch, had apparently escaped her father's attention.

"But is there anything you could do in Vancouver? You have no great knowledge of business," she said.

Townshead smiled wryly. "It is," he said, "a pity that I have so much, because on the two occasions I took an interest in it I lost a good deal of money. There is nothing for me to do here, at least. I cannot chop big trees."

"No," said the girl. "But have you nothing in contemplation?"

Townshead shook his head as though he were tired of the subject. "No," he said resignedly. "I have too much regard for my very indifferent health to worry unnecessarily."

The girl sighed a little, and felt very helpless, knowing that the task of maintaining both would devolve upon her and her brother. She was a dutiful daughter, but she occasionally found it difficult to maintain her respect for her father. Had he been beaten down after a stubborn struggle she would with almost fierce loyalty have been proud of him: but Townshead, who spent most of his time safeguarding his constitution, had never fought at all. Conflict of any kind jarred upon him. Answering nothing, she sat still listening, until at last a tramp of horsehoofs became audible. Somebody was riding that way, but there was another ranch farther up the valley, and her pulses throbbed when her strained senses told her that the horseman had reached the forking of the trail. If he passed on the blow she shrank from might be suspended a little longer.

The man did not, however, pass by, but turned into the home trail, and she rose with a little shiver when there was a knocking at the door. A man stood outside it with a horse behind him, and a paper in his hand, while his dress betrayed him as one from the cities. He was also young, and appeared considerably embarrassed, but he took off his hat and made the girl a little bow. She flung the door open, and stood very straight and still before him.

"You may come in," she said.

The stranger glanced at her swiftly, and Nellie Townshead was somewhat astonished to see the blood mantle to his forehead. "Very sorry, but I see you guess who I am," he said, with a crisp, English intonation. "I am here to—well, you understand—on behalf of Mr. Hallam, but I really wouldn't be if I could help it."

"You can put your horse in the stable, and then I will give you some supper," said the girl, in a coldly even tone. "There is still a little to eat here, and you must be hungry."

The man appeared dubious, and stood still a moment, then touched his hat again when he saw the crimson flame higher in the cheeks of the girl.

"Of course," he said; "I'm going."

Nellie Townshead laughed bitterly. "If I had intended to shut you out I should scarcely have asked you in," she said.

The young man came back in a few minutes, and by that time there were a few plates upon the table. He sat down, and then stood up once more when he saw the girl standing close by with a tray.

"You must let me wait upon myself," said he. "During the course of my last ranching visit they set savage dogs on me, and I wouldn't trouble you, only that I've ridden fifty miles, and am very hungry."

The girl seemed to soften, for she saw he was talking at random to cover her embarrassment as well as his own. "You are an Englishman?" she said.

"Yes," said the stranger. "I'm not especially proud of it just now, but, you see, a man must live."

Townshead looked up from his chair. "I fancy that is a slightly mistaken sentiment. Some men are better dead, and I occasionally feel tempted to include myself in the category."

The young man smiled a little. "The Frenchman put it a trifle more concisely, sir," he said.

Townshead nodded. "Still, he was correct. I don't mind admitting that I looked forward to your visit with apprehension, but I now fancy you will not jar upon me so much as I expected."

The stranger glanced at Miss Townshead, who, though she wished to, could not quite check a smile. He was very young, and had a pleasant face. "That was very kind of you," he said. "Now, I think the least that I can do is to retire to the barn or stable. I have some blankets, and can make myself comfortable."

He went out, knocking over a cup in his haste, and the girl sat still and laughed. There was not a great deal of merriment in her laughter, and the tears were close behind it, but it was a relief. Townshead, however, watched her disapprovingly.

"You should," he said, "endeavour to preserve a becoming serenity."

Nellie Townshead became grave again. "I fancy it would have been better if we had not displayed so much of it and let things drift, but that is not the question now," she said. "How could any one willing to help us do so, father?"

Townshead made a little grimace. "Are you not suggesting an impossibility?"

"But if there was somebody," persisted the girl. "What could he do on Thursday? I want to understand everything."

"Well," said Townshead, "I think this is the position. Hallam lent me money which I cannot repay him, and he sells us up. Incidentally, I fancy he has some reason for desiring this ranch, and as he has been acquiring a good deal of land lately will get somebody to buy it in. Very few of our neighbours have any dollars to spare, and the price will necessarily be a low one. Now if any man with the means to bid against him were here it would put heart into some of the others and run the prices up, and in that case Hallam would have to hand me over a balance, as well as pay a good deal more than he meant to for the ranch. I think that is simple, and I believe the manoeuvre has been used with some success in other parts of Canada."

"But," said the girl, "if the man offered more than Hallam or his nominee would outbid, he would have to take the ranch."

Townshead nodded agreement. "That," he said, "is the difficulty. Still, though I do not think there is any one who would do so much for us, I presume you would not have asked the question unless you had something in your mind."

The girl, who did not answer for a moment, stooped and stirred the stove. "No," she said very slowly. "I sent word to Mr. Alton."

"Alton?" said Townshead, and sat silent a while. "Well, although I do not altogether approve of him, I fancy that if there is anybody in this district able to help us that is the man. There remains the question is he willing?"

Nellie Townshead still busied herself at the stove. "I think he is," she said.

Townshead straightened himself a trifle in his chair. "Then, I am curious to know why he should be," he said.

"I do not know," said the girl, who rose and took up the supper dishes. "Still, I feel sure that he is."

Townshead turned towards her. "You fancied so a moment or two ago, and now you are sure," he said. "There must be some meaning to this."

His daughter looked round and laughed a little, holding the tray at a perilous slope. "He made me promise to let him know," she said.

Her father shook his head. "A young man of Mr. Alton's description does not do anything of the kind without a motive," he said. "Now I wonder if there are minerals upon the ranch."

The colour crept into his daughter's cheeks again. "They would in any case belong to the Crown," she said. "Can you not believe that the man who packed our provisions in through flooded fords and snow would do anything out of generosity?"

She turned away and left him, and Townshead puckered his face dubiously. "I should find it very difficult, and the care of a daughter is a heavy responsibility," he said. Miss Townshead did not return for some little while, but stood above the cedar washing-board scarcely seeing the dishes that once or twice almost slipped from her hand. There was, her father had told her, one man who could help them in the only way in which assistance could be accepted, and she felt sure he would. If rancher Alton failed to keep his word she felt it would be very difficult to believe in the honour of his sex again.



CHAPTER XI

CONFIDENCE MISPLACED

There was sliding mist in the Somasco valley, and the pines were dripping when Alton and Miss Deringham stood upon a slippery ledge above the river. Just there it came down frothing into a deep, black pool, swung round it white-streaked, and swept on with a hoarse murmur into the gloom of the bush again. A wall of fissured rock overhung the pool on the farther side, and a fallen pine wetted with the spray stretched across the outflow and rested on one jagged pinnacle. A wet wind which drove the vapours before it called up wild music from the cedars that loomed through them on the side of the hill.

"I'd cast across the rush at the head of the pool and let the fly come down," said Alton. "There's generally a big trout lying in the eddy behind the boulder."

The girl nodded, and the line sweeping back towards the pines behind her went forward again. It fell lightly amidst the frothing rush, and Alton smiled approval as he watched the rod point follow it downstream towards a foam-licked rock. It swung to and fro a moment, then slid on again towards the still black stretch behind the stone, tightened there suddenly, and ran, tense and straight, upstream again, while the reel clacked and rattled.

"A big one," said Alton quietly. "Check the winch a little, and keep the butt down. He can't face the rapid, and you'll lose him unless you can keep a strain on when he turns again."

The girl flung herself backwards, with eyes dilated and a warmth in her cheeks, the rod bending above her, and the line ripping its way towards the welter at the head of the pool. There it curved inwards a trifle, and Alton shouted, "Reel!"

There was a quick rattle, something broke the water with a silvery flash, and the line was shooting downstream again.

"Let him go, unless he makes for the fir yonder," said Alton quietly.

For the space of several minutes the line swept up and down the pool, and Miss Deringham watched it almost breathlessly with fingers on the reel. Then it swept straight towards the fallen fir.

"Stop him!" said Alton. "It's a good trace. Keep the butt down."

The rod bent further, a big silvery body rushed clear of the water and went down again, while next moment the line stopped and quivered as it rasped against the fallen fir. Miss Deringham turned to her companion with a gesture of consternation.

"Oh!" she said breathlessly. "It has gone."

"I don't know," said Alton, "That trace is a good deal thicker than what you use in England. I'll see if I can get him. Keep your thumb on the reel."

He took up a net, and clambering along the ledge sprang lightly upon the log. It was sharply rounded, the bark was wet, and the way along it obstructed by the stake-like ends of torn-off limbs, but the man crawled forward foot by foot with the swift whirl of current close beneath him. Then he knelt where the tree dipped almost level with the flood, and grasping the line with one hand swept the net in and out amidst the broken-off branches, while the girl watching him fancied she could see a bright flash between the splashes. Presently he rose again shaking his head, with nothing in the net.

"Give me a yard or two when I shout," he said.

Grasping a branch with one hand he lay down on the log, and lowered himself until arm and shoulder were in the river. Then he sank still further until his head was under too, and the girl shivered a little. It seemed to her that it would be difficult for even a good swimmer to extricate himself from the tangle of snapped-off branches between the log and the bottom of the river. Still, the clinging foot and arm were visible above the rush of frothing water. Then more of the man came into sight again, there was a half-smothered shout, and she loosed the reel, while in another moment or two Alton swung himself up dripping with part of one hand apparently thrust into a great flapping fish's head. With the back of it pressed gainst his knee he drew the head towards him, and the long silvery body became still, while the man stood up smiling.

"Fingers were made before nets, but I wasn't quite sure of him all the time," he said.

Miss Deringham, who was flushed and breathless, felt very gracious towards her companion just then. It was, she realized, a somewhat perilous thing he had done to please her, and this was gratifying in itself, while the knowledge that he had postponed several affairs which demanded his attention was more flattering still. He was also, in such surroundings, almost admirable as he stood before her bareheaded and dripping, the river frothing at his feet and the sliding mists behind him. Deerskin jacket and stained and faded jean, lean, sinewy figure, and bronzed face were all in keeping with the spirit of the scene. Then a voice came out of the bush.

"Hallo, Harry! Are you anywhere around?" it said.

Alton answered, and Miss Deringham felt distinctly displeased. She had been about to say something delicately apposite, and now Seaforth, whose company she could have dispensed with, stood on the bank above them, apparently quietly amused.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself, Harry," he said.

"Well," said Alton a trifle curtly, "you didn't come keeyowling through the bush like a prairie coyote to tell me that?"

"No," said Seaforth, with a sudden change in his voice which Miss Deringham noticed. "There's a man in from the settlement, and Hallam's selling Townshead up to-day according to his tale."

Alton scrambled swiftly along the log. "Just one question, Charley. Quite sure nobody came here with any message for me about it that you forgot?" he said.

Seaforth made a little gesture of impatience, and there was a trace of anger in his tone. "It is scarcely likely I should have forgotten that," he said.

Then he glanced at Miss Deringham, and was slightly bewildered by what he saw in her face. Seaforth had once or twice admired the girl's serenity in somewhat difficult surroundings, but there was now a suggestion of fear in her eyes, and she seemed to avoid Alton's gaze. It, however, passed in a moment, and she turned towards the rancher tranquilly.

"I wonder how far I am to blame," she said. "A man came here a day or two ago, and apparently endeavoured to tell me something. He was, however, unintelligible, and I fancy somebody had been giving him whisky."

"Mounted?" said Alton. "What kind of horse?"

Miss Deringham considered for a moment, and then possibly deciding that Alton would have no difficulty in ascertaining elsewhere, told him. "Tom!" he said grimly. "Well, I'll talk to him. You'll take Miss Deringham home, Charley, and then come on to Townshead's after me."

He swung away into the bush next moment, and Seaforth followed him more slowly with Miss Deringham. Neither of them spoke, but though the man's thoughts were busy with other affairs, he noticed that his companion glanced at him covertly. "The girl could have told us something more," he said to himself, and put a stern check on his impatience as he kept pace with her.

When they came out into the clearing they heard the thud of hoofs, and saw a mounted man send a horse at the tall split fence. The slip-rails were up, and the fence was unusually well put together, but there was a crash as the top bar flew apart, and presently the thud of hoofs grew fainter down the fir-shadowed trail. Miss Deringham now appeared quite serene again.

"Has he ridden off wet through as he was?" she said.

"I expect so," said Seaforth dryly. "Harry does not usually let trifles of that kind worry him, nor do I think there are many men who would have ridden at that fence."

Alice Deringham said nothing, but though she smiled Seaforth fancied that she was not pleased. Her thoughts were, however, of small importance to him, and he hastened fuming with impatience towards the stables.

It was some time later when Nellie Townshead stood by a window of her father's ranch. Jean-clad stock breeders and axemen hung about the clearing, and a little knot of men from the cities stood apart from them. A wagon, implements out of repair, old sets of harness, axes, saws, and shovels were littered about the front of the house, and there were two or three horses and a few poor cattle in the corral. The ranchers spoke slowly to one another, and their faces were sombre, but Hallam, who stood amidst the other men, was smiling over a big cigar. The girl clenched her hands as she watched him, and then turning her head looked down the valley.

"I fancy I hear hoofs. He told me he would come," she said, but Townshead, who sat apathetically in the old leather chair, shook his head.

"He has, of course, forgotten if he did," he said.

"No," said the girl with a trace of harshness in her voice. "Mr. Alton never forgets a promise. That must be the drumming of hoofs. Can you hear nothing?"

"The river," said Townshead despondently. "He will be too late directly. They are putting up the ranch."

Confidence and dismay seemed to struggle together in the face of the girl, but the former rose uppermost, for she clung fast to hope.

"There! Oh, why can they not stop talking? That is something now," she said.

"No," said Townshead. "Only the wind in the firs."

The girl leaned forward a little, drawing in her breath as she stared down the valley. The voices drowned the sound she fancied she had heard, and the colour came and went in her face when she caught one of them. "The thing's no better than robbery. Why isn't Harry Alton or his partner here?"

Nellie Townshead had asked herself the same question over and over again that day when rancher and axemen in somewhat embarrassed fashion tendered her their sympathy. What she expected from him she did not quite know, but she had a curious confidence in Alton, and at least as much in his comrade, and felt that even if the scheme her father had alluded to was not feasible there would be something they could do. Then she drew back from the window and sat down, with a little shiver as the harsh voice of the auctioneer rose from the clearing. She caught disjointed words and sentences.

"Don't need tell you what the place is worth. You have seen the boundaries. Richest soil in the Dominion. Grow anything. Now if I was a rancher. Well, I'm waiting for your offer."

He apparently waited some little time, and then a laugh that expressed bitterness in place of merriment followed the voice of one of the men from the cities.

"Put two hundred dollars on to it," said somebody, and there was another laugh, which the girl, recognizing the voice, understood; for it was known that the bidder had probably not ten dollars in his possession and was in debt at the store. The fact that this man whom she had scarcely spoken to should endeavour to help her while her friends at Somasco did nothing also brought a little flash of anger to her eyes. Then she told herself that there was time yet, and they would come.

The voices rose again more rapidly. "Fifty more. Another to me. Oh, what's the use of fooling. One hundred better. Twenty again to me."

Miss Townshead glanced at her father. "They'll stop presently," said he. "The place stands at a third of its value, but it would cripple most of them to pay for it if they got it now. The man from Vancouver who goes up by twenties will get it at half of what it cost me, and I don't think you need watch for rancher Alton."

Still Nellie Townshead did not quite give up hope. The bidding was only beginning, and there was time yet. She had been taught to look beneath the surface in Western Canada, and had cherished a curious respect for rancher Alton. The girl was young still, and he stood for her as a romantic ideal of the new manhood that was to grow to greatness in the wildest province of the Dominion, while now and then she fancied she saw something in his comrade's face which roused her pity and stirred her to sympathy. That, having made it unasked, the former should slight a promise of the kind appeared incomprehensible and she felt that if he did so her faith in the type he served as an example of would fall with him. There was also pressing need of some one to look to for guidance in her time of necessity, because Townshead was not the man to grapple with any difficulty, and most of his neighbours knew little or nothing about the cities.

"Father," she said, "in case the purchaser turns us out where shall we go to-night? The stage does not go in to the railroad until a week to-day, and do you think there will be anything left over to keep us for a little in Vancouver?"

Townshead glanced at her querulously. "Somebody will take us in," said he. "I should have fancied, my dear, that you would have seen I am sufficiently distressed and unwell to-day without having to anticipate further difficulties. There will, I hope, be a balance. What is the bidding now?"

The girl listened, but for a few moments there was a significant silence, and her heart sank when a single voice rose. One or two others joined in, and there was silence again until the auctioneer repeated the offer. Then she turned quivering towards her father.

"You heard him?" she said.

Townshead groaned despondently, "I am afraid the prospect of a balance is very small," he said.

Again there was a stillness in the clearing, until the auctioneer's voice rose raucously expostulating. "It is really preposterous, gentlemen," he said. "I'm giving the place away."

"Well, I'll go ten better," said somebody, and the girl held her breath,

"Twenty!" said another man, and there was a laugh.

"Then that takes me. You can have the ranch."

The voice of the auctioneer rose again. "Nobody to follow him? Your last chance, gentlemen. He's getting it for nothing. Too late in a moment. Going—going."

Nellie Townshead closed her hands and turned her head away, then sprang up quivering with the revulsion from despair to hope. Through the silence she heard a faint drumming down the valley.

"He is coming. Stop them, father," she said.

Nobody else apparently heard the sound. The eyes of all in the clearing were fixed upon the auctioneer, and while Townshead rose from his chair he brought down his hand.

"It's yours, sir," he said, "I'll take your cheque, or you can fill this contract in if you're bidding for the smaller lots."

Nellie Townshead grew white in face as she glanced towards her father. Townshead stood still, gripping the back of his chair.

"We are homeless now," he said.

It was five minutes before the girl looked out again, and then in spite of every effort her eyes grew hazy, but it was a long time before she forgot the scene, for the groups of bronzed men in jean, cattle, clearing, and the tall firs behind them burned themselves into her memory. Hallam stood smiling close by the auctioneer's table with a cigar in his hand, and another man from the cities was apparently replacing a roll of paper dollars in his wallet. That impressed her even more than the sympathetic faces turned towards the house, for it was a token that the sale was irrevocably completed. Then the group split up as a man rode at a gallop straight towards the table. He was breathless, the horse was smoking, and there were red smears upon its flanks as well as flecks of spume. He swung himself from the saddle, and there followed the sound of an altercation while a noisy group surged about the table. It opened up again, and rancher Alton walked out, pale and grim of face, alone.

"You should have come sooner, Harry," said somebody.

The rancher turned, the group closed in again, and the girl did not see Alton stride up to a big man, and laying a hand upon his shoulder swing him round. "Tom," he said with a curious quietness, "there was a message you did not give me, you drunken hog."

The man shook his grasp off, glanced at him bewilderedly, and then while the bronze grew a little darker in his face doubled a great fist.

"If I take a little more than is good for me now and then, that's my lookout," he said. "Now I don't want any trouble with you, Harry, but I'll not take that talk from any man."

Alton's face was almost grey and his eyes partly closed, but there was a steely glint in them as he said, "Did you bring me the message Miss Townshead gave you?"

"I did the next thing," said the man. "When I couldn't find you I gave it to the lady. She promised to tell you."

"Tom," said Alton slowly, "you are worse than a drunken hog, you are——"

A man stepped in front of him before the word was spoken, while another pinioned the culprit's arm.

"We've no use for that kind of talk and the fuss that follows it," said the first one. "Anyway, if Tom mixed things up it was my fault and Dobey's for giving him the whisky. We'd sold some stock well and we rushed him in. Well, now, if you still feel you must work it off on somebody you've got to tackle Dobey and me!"

Alton let his hands drop. "Do you know what you have done?" said he.

"It wasn't very much, anyway," said the other man. "Tom didn't want to come in; told us he'd a message for you. But we made him, and were sorry after, because when he got started he left us very little whisky."

Alton glanced at him a moment, and the man grew embarrassed under his gaze. Then he smiled wryly. "And this is what you have brought Townshead and his daughter to, and there is more behind. What you have made of me counts for little after that," he said.

Some time had passed when he walked quietly into the house. Nellie Townshead rose as he entered and stood looking at him very white in face.

"I wonder if you will believe what I have to tell you, Miss Townshead," he commenced, and stopped when the rancher turned towards him,

"My daughter has, I think, been taught that it is unwise to place much confidence in any one," he said.

Alton glanced at the girl, and stood silent a moment when she made a little gesture of agreement. "I am afraid appearances are against me," he said.

"Yes," said the girl. "So are the facts."

"Well," said Alton grimly, "the latter are of the most importance, but I think you should hear me."

"There is," said Miss Townshead, "no reason why I should. You made me a promise—why I do not know, any more than I do why I allowed you—but I was very anxious just then. No doubt you spoke on impulse, and afterwards regretted it."

"My daughter was a trifle injudicious," said Townshead.

Alton made a last endeavour. "I know what you must think of me, and it hurts," he said. "Still, that is a little thing."

The girl checked him by a gesture, and the man stopped with his meaning unexpressed. "You have made as much evident," she said.

Alton turned towards her father. "I'm afraid the suggestion I wished to make would be out of place just now," he said. "Still, I had ridden over in the hope that you and Miss Townshead would stay with us at Somasco while you decided on your next step."

"We have to thank you for your offer, but your surmise is correct," said Townshead.

Alton said nothing further, but went out into the clearing and stood apart from the rest while the auctioneer disposed of the household effects, until a little cabinet was offered, when he moved up to the table and bid savagely. Hallam for some reason bid against him, and only stopped when he had quadrupled its value. Alton flung down a roll of dollar bills and then turned to a man close by. "Will you take that in to Miss Townshead, and not tell her who bought it?" he said. "It was her mother's, and I believe she values it."

"I'll do my best," said the other man dryly. "Still, I'm not good at fixing up a story, and Miss Nellie's not a fool."

"Well," said Alton simply, "there's another thing. Where is Townshead going?"

The rancher smiled a little. "He's coming home with me. Susie's driving over with the wagon."

Alton nodded. "Now you needn't be touchy, but we've fruit and things at Somasco you haven't got," said he. "Well, I want you to come round with the wagon."

The rancher straightened himself a trifle. "My place isn't Somasco, but it will be a mean day when I can't feed my friends," said he.

Alton laughed softly. "I don't care ten cents about your feelings, Jack," he said. "The girl and the old man might like the things, and there's no reason they should know where you got them."

The other man also laughed. "You ride straight home, Harry, before you make it worse," said he. "One might figure that you'd mixed things up enough already."

Alton turned away, and found Seaforth awaiting him. They mounted, and Alton rode in silence until when they were climbing out of the valley he said, "I wonder, Charley, if there's a man in the Dominion who feels as mean as I do."

Seaforth smiled curiously, and there was bitterness in his voice which Alton was too disturbed to notice. "I think there is," he said. "You haven't asked what kept me, but you will see if you look at the horse's knees. It's a little difficult to understand why he must get his foot in a hole to-day."

It was late that night when they reached Somasco, but Alton found Miss Deringham upon the verandah, and she glanced at him with very pretty sympathy. Still, Seaforth fancied that she seemed a trifle anxious.

"Have you seen the man who brought the message?" she said.

"I have," said Alton. "You were right, of course. He'd had too much whisky."

The girl appeared, so Seaforth fancied, curiously relieved. "I was almost afraid you might think I was in some respects to blame," she said.

"No," said Alton simply, "That was one of the things I couldn't do. It was right out of the question."

He went in, and the warm colour crept into Miss Deringham's face as she presently followed him.



CHAPTER XII

IN VANCOUVER

Autumn was merging into winter when one morning Alton and his comrade strolled along the water-front at Vancouver. It was still early, and the store and office clerks were just hastening to their occupations, but Alton had spent an hour already in a great sawmill. His face was thoughtful, and he seemed to be repeating details of machines and engines half aloud. Presently he stood still and gazed about him, and Seaforth, who followed his gaze, knew there was something working in his comrade's mind. The scene was also inspiriting and suggestive.

Across the wide inlet, mountain beyond mountain towered against the blueness of the north. To the east, sombre forest shut the sheltered basin in, its black ridge serrated by the ragged spires of taller pines, and blurred in places by the drifting smoke of mills. Between them and the water stood long lines of loaded cars, with huge locomotives snorting in the midst of them, and where the metal road which commenced at Quebec ended, the white shape of an Empress liner rose above the wharf, the clasp of the new steel girdle which bound England to the East. Above the pines which shrouded the narrows shone the topsails of a timber-laden barque, and a crawling cloud of smoke betokened a steamer coming up out of the wastes of the Pacific, while four-masted ships lay two deep beneath the humming mills. Then, rising ridge on ridge, jumbled in picturesque confusion, and flanked by towering telegraph poles, store and bank and office climbed the slope of the hill. It was a new stone city which had sprung, as by enchantment, from the ashes of a wooden one, and would, purging itself of its raw crudity, rise to beauty and greatness yet.

Alton glanced towards it with a comprehensive gesture. "What a place this will be by and by," he said. "Sometimes I'm proud I was born in this country. Now I might have been raised back there at Carnaby, and taught it was every man's chief duty to dress and talk nicely, chase foxes, and think about his dinner."

"I fancy there are men who would not have thought that a great misfortune," said Seaforth dryly. "You could also, if you liked it, do so still."

Alton laughed a little grimly. "There are two kinds of men in this world, Charley, and which of them makes it go?" said he. "The ones who have too much to eat and too little to do, or the others who have to keep on doing something because they're hungry? Well, I needn't ask you, because the conundrum was answered long ago, and that kind of talking's no great use to anybody. That was a very fine mill, and I picked up a good deal down there. Still, we will scarcely want such a big one at Somasco."

"No," said Seaforth, smiling. "I don't quite see how we are going to keep the one we have busy."

"Well," said Alton, "you will by and by, and I'm going to buy three or four new saw-fixings to-day. You don't know anything about bookkeeping, Charley?"

"You have surmised correctly," said Seaforth. "I don't know that I want to."

Alton laughed, and presently stopped in front of a building on which a brass plate was inscribed, "Bookkeeping and Shorthand taught efficiently."

"I think you're wrong, and this is the place," said he. "That's a sensible man, and he just puts down what he can do. Go right in, and ask how long he'll take to make a business man of you."

Seaforth stared at him in bewilderment. "You took nothing with your breakfast, Harry?" said he.

Alton smiled a little grimly. "I haven't had any yet. I've been too busy," he said. "Walk in, Charley, while I see whether they'll lend me twenty thousand dollars at the bank yonder."

Seaforth, who, however, knew that there was no use in arguing with his comrade, shook his head. "It's a long rest you want, Harry," he said.

He went in, and Alton, proceeding down the street, presently entered the Bank of Montreal, where he left the manager divided between astonishment and admiration. He, however, came out with just as many dollars as he carried into the building, and lighting a cigar, watched the passers-by gravely as he waited for his comrade. They were of many and widely different types; men with keen, sallow faces from eastern cities hastening as though every moment lost was an opportunity wasted; others moving with the tranquillity which proclaimed them Englishmen; bronzed prospectors, and solemn axemen from the shadowy bush, with the stillness of the forest in their eyes; sailors, Japs, and Siwash sealermen. All of them appeared well fed and prosperous, and Alton was wondering whether there was any one hungry in that city, when a girl came down the stairway of the building Seaforth had entered.

Alton did not at first see her face, but he noticed that her dress was threadbare, and she was walking wearily, while the man who read dejection in her attitude was sorry for her. She stopped in the passage, glancing at the card in her hand, then drew herself up a little and with a quick, nervous movement lifted her head. Alton saw her face at last, and though it had grown a trifle hollow and pale, he recognized Miss Townshead. Then she saw him, and he moved forward hastily.

"This is a pleasure I was not expecting," he said.

He fancied for a moment that the girl would have retreated. She, however, looked at him quietly, though something in her manner checked Alton's outstretched hand.

"Are you staying here?" she said.

"No," said Alton. "I'm going away to-morrow, but I want quite a long talk with you."

"I do not wish to hear anything about Somasco," said the girl.

"Well," said Alton, who understood her, smiling, "we'll let that go by. Now, they begin on time in this city, and as your father doesn't like his breakfast early, I'm figuring you haven't had any. We'll get some together. I've been too busy to think of mine."

Nellie Townshead was afterwards both astonished and angry with herself. She had lost her respect for this man who had, it seemed, betrayed her confidence, and if he had given her a moment's time, would probably have dispensed with his company. As it was, however, Alton drew her out into the street with a swift forcefulness before she could frame an answer. She was also feeling very lonely and downcast then, and it was pleasant to find somebody she knew in the busy city that had apparently no place for her.

"Now," said Alton presently, "we'll go in here. It's nice and quiet for Vancouver, but I expect you know this place."

He realized that he had blundered when he saw the girl's face, but in another second she was laughing a little. "No," she said. "I'm afraid you are forgetting."

Alton apparently misunderstood her. "Well," he said, smiling, "it's quite possible you know another place that's nicer; but sit right yonder while I waken some of these people up."

Now the public breakfast is an institution in Western cities whose inhabitants frequently take no meals at home, and the appearance of the bronzed man and girl together excited no comment, while Alton was able to contrive that they had a table in a corner to themselves. His tastes were, as his companion knew, severely simple, and she wondered a little, because that establishment was one of the most expensive in the city. In the meanwhile, the man talked assiduously, if somewhat at random, and was contented when he found that he could keep the girl's attention occupied so that she scarcely noticed how often he refilled her plate. At last, as he passed a great cluster of fruit across, he said, "It's time you did the talking now. You are going right ahead in this city?"

The girl's face quivered for a second, and her fingers moved nervously, "I am afraid I have not commenced yet," she said.

"No?" said Alton. "Now Susie Thomson told me you were running a typewriter for somebody."

A tinge of carmine flickered into the cheek of his companion and faded swiftly again. "I was," she said. "The commercial school found a place for me, but it was impossible that I should stay there."

Alton half closed his eyes, and the girl noticed his big hand slowly clenched, for he fancied he understood. "It's a pity I wasn't a brother of yours, Miss Nellie. I should like to see those folks," he said. "Still, you have known me a long while, and that's something to go upon."

"I'm afraid it's not sufficient," said the girl hastily, with a little smile.

"Well," said Alton, with a sigh, "you have got hold of something better."

Miss Townshead appeared to make an endeavour to answer hopefully, but again her fingers trembled, and there was a little less courage than usual in her eyes. "Not yet, but I shall soon," she said.

"Of course," said Alton gravely. "Now how long have you been looking for it?"

"A month," said the girl without reflection, and Alton nodded as though in answer to some question he had put to himself.

"And when you went into that place this morning there was nothing again?" he said.

"No," said Miss Townshead, with a trace of despondency she could not quite conceal. "There was a post vacant, but it had some trust attached to it, and nobody knows me."

Now while he talked Alton's eyes had been busy, and he had noticed a curious weariness which he had not seen before in his companion's face. Her fingers, which had grown white, were also very slender, and the well-worn dress, which he remembered, did not seem to hang about her as it had done. Her eyes, however, were brighter, and now and then a little florid colour flushed her cheeks, but that did not please him, for Alton had seen not a little of want and hunger in the snows of the North.

"You mean they want security?" said he.

"Yes," said Miss Townshead hastily. "Still, one of the girls I met at the school told me there was somebody wanted at a big dry goods store, and I think I had better go round and see the people now."

Alton rose, and when they went out together gravely held out his hand. "We used to be good friends, and you were kind to me," said he. "Now is there nothing that I can do?"

"No," said Miss Townshead hastily. "Of course there is nothing, and you will hear that I am prospering presently."

Alton bent a trifle over the little hand in the shabby glove that rested a moment in his palm. "Well, if ever there is anything you will let me know. You are a brave girl," said he.

Nellie Townshead turned and left him, feeling for no apparent reason a slight choking sensation, and Alton, who watched the little figure in the threadbare dress for at least a minute, strode resolutely back to the commercial school.

"I want to see the man who runs this place," he said.

He was shown into an office, where a man, whose face he was pleased with, greeted him. "You taught Miss Townshead here?" he said.

"Yes," said the other. "She is a lady of considerable ability, and I could recommend her with confidence."

Alton stared at him a moment out of half-closed eyes. "Of course you would," he said. "Well now, she has been applying for some place where they want security. Is it fit for a lady?"

"Yes," said the man dryly. "Otherwise I should not have mentioned it to her. The storekeeper having been victimized lately, however, requires a deposit of one hundred dollars."

Alton took out his wallet. "He can have two hundred if he likes. Now I want you to fix it up without telling Miss Townshead or anybody."

"You are a relation of hers?" said the man.

"No," said Alton, "I am a friend."

"Then I'm afraid I can't assist you," said the other man. "It is necessary to avoid any probability of complications in my business."

Again a glint crept into Alton's eyes, but it vanished, and he spoke quietly. "I think you're straight," he said. "Well, I'm direct too, and I'm going right back to my ranch to-morrow. Anybody from that district will tell you all about Alton of Somasco. Now you'll take the dollars, and if you hear of me hanging round this city you can send them back to me."

The man appeared dubious, but finally nodded. "I'll make an exception in your case," he said. "The fact is, I'm sorry for Miss Townshead, because I fancy it is desirable that she should secure an appointment of any kind as soon as possible."

Alton went out contented, having, so he fancied, somewhat skilfully obtained Townshead's address, and found Seaforth awaiting him.

"They could, if I am an apt pupil, turn me out proficient for anything in three months," he said.

Alton laughed. "They'll have to do it in less, and we'll find a use for all they've taught you by and by," he said. "Now I came across Miss Townshead, and she wasn't looking well or happy. We'll call upon her father when we get through what we have to do."

Seaforth, who appeared disturbed, would have gone sooner, but it was afternoon when they strolled round the outskirts of the city, and his face was somewhat grim as they entered the Alsatia, which is the usual adjunct of such places. It would, however, have impressed the unsophisticated Eastern observer as being well painted, respectable, and especially prosperous, for virtue is not the only thing which is rewarded and recognized in a Western city. Finally, after traversing it, they found Townshead in a little wooden house which was apparently occupied by two other families. The remnants of a very meagre meal lay before him, and he sat wearing the red velvet jacket, which looked older and more faded than ever, in a canvas chair. He greeted the two men coldly and somewhat condescendingly.

"We have not been especially fortunate hitherto," he said presently. "In fact, this city seems to be labouring under a commercial depression, and I have been unable to find any of the opportunities I had expected. Nor has my daughter been more successful."

Alton, who had been looking about him in the meanwhile, noticed that although the day was chilly there was no fire in the stove, while glancing at the man who lay, infirm alike in will and body, in the chair, he understood why the girl's fingers had trembled and the mistiness he had for a moment seen in her eyes. He was also wondering by what means he could lessen one difficulty, but it was Seaforth who devised one first.

"Things will get better presently," he said. "Now Harry and I often remember the pleasant evenings we spent at your ranch, and we never got suppers like those Miss Townshead made us, at Somasco."

"My daughter found it necessary to acquire the art of cookery in Canada," said Townshead a trifle distantly.

"Of course," said Seaforth, smiling. "Everybody is compelled to in this country, and I only referred to the subject because Harry seems to fancy it must be difficult to get any of the little things we are used to in the bush in the city, while your kindness to us would justify what might otherwise appear a liberty. We brought a few odds and ends you can't get quite so nice in Vancouver along. Hadn't you better go and bring them in, Harry?"

Alton glanced at him in bewildered astonishment. "Bring them in?" he said.

Seaforth shook his head deprecatingly. "You haven't forgotten already, and you are not going to escape in that fashion," he said. "If you'll ask at the hotel they'll tell you where to find the things."

Alton moved so that Townshead could not see him, and his face was utterly perplexed. "What things?" he said.

"Two or three fowls," said Seaforth reflectively. "There were some eggs, a bag of the big yellow apples, and—now it's curious I forgot the rest."

Alton's eyes twinkled. "Oh, yes," he said. "Some venison. There was the deer you shot in the potatoes, and a bag of dried plums. Our orchard has done very well, Mr. Townshead."

"I wonder if I forgot the Excelsior pears," said Seaforth. "They're as big as your two fists, and Harry's quite proud of them."

Townshead, who was not an observant man, appeared astonished, and also a trifle touched. "I'm afraid I have not always appreciated my bush friends as I should have done, and your kindness will I think lessen my daughter's difficulty respecting the commissariat," he said. "There are, of course, many of the little things we were used to which she feels the loss of."

Seaforth, who read a good deal more than his words expressed in the speaker's face, signed to his comrade, who went out and returned later with a hamper. "Somebody must have forgotten to put the venison in, but the other things are all there," he said.

Townshead assisted them to unpack the hamper, and while they were busy over it his daughter came in. It was apparently raining, for the thin white dress clung about her, and she seemed very white and weary. Darkness was drawing on, the room was dim, and at first she apparently only saw her father as she stood taking off her hat by the window.

"Nothing again to-day, and I am very tired," she said. "Still, I am to call at another store to-morrow, and I was wickedly extravagant. I was kept until it was too late for dinner, and I bought something that will please you for supper."

Then as she turned to lay the wet hat down the blood rushed to her face, for she saw Alton kneeling by the hamper and Seaforth standing in the shadow behind her father's chair. The former did not rise, but his comrade came forward smiling in another moment.

"I am glad we did not miss you, as we were about to go when you came in," he said. "These are one or two trifles Harry fancied might be useful. He is absurdly proud of all the products of Somasco, and seems to think nobody can get anything nice in the city."

Seaforth also talked a good deal, and Miss Townshead smiled now and then at him, but when she went with them to the door he lingered a moment because he felt her eyes were on him.

"Your comrade didn't support you well, and I don't think the expedient would have occurred to him," she said, with a little tremor in her voice. "Still, it was done in kindness—and I am grateful."

Seaforth smiled gravely, though his face perplexed the girl. "A little faith is a good thing, and people should believe what they're told," said he. "Now I wonder if one could take the liberty?"

"No," said the girl. "Even if he had the best intentions. I and my father have not lost our pride."

Seaforth sighed as he turned away, and, when he rejoined Alton, stared at the lights of the city savagely, while as they passed along the water-front he said, "Will you give me a cigar, Harry?"

Alton drew out his cigar-case, glanced at it a moment, and then tossed it across the wharf. "What right have you and I to be going back to dinner when that girl hasn't enough to eat?" he said. "You know what those cigars cost me. Lord, what selfish brutes we are! Now stop right here and tell me what we are going to do!"

Seaforth made a gesture of helplessness. "The difficulty is that one can't do anything," he said. "You see, we can't attempt the hamper trick too frequently, and I scarcely think Miss Townshead would care to be indebted to either of us in any other fashion."

"Well," said Alton simply, "there must be a way somewhere, and I'm going to find it."

"Then," said Seaforth, with a trace of bitterness, "for the sake of everybody's peace of mind I hope you will. You seem especially compassionate towards Miss Townshead."

Alton glanced at him a moment, and then laughed a little. "I suppose you can't help being foolish, Charley, but you should know I've no time to think of anything beyond what I have to do just now," he said. "The biggest contract I've ever taken hold of is waiting for me."

"I am," said Seaforth dryly, "glad to hear you say so, even though your recent conduct would make it somewhat difficult for most people to believe you."

Alton glanced at him very gravely. "I don't like those jokes," he said. "You'll get more sense as you grow up, Charley."



CHAPTER XIII

THE SOMASCO CONSOLIDATED

Alton left Vancouver by the Quebec express next day, found horses waiting at the little station, and only waiting while fresh ones were saddled at a lonely ranch, took the trail again before the first faint light crept out of the east. He also spoke little with Seaforth during the journey, and stared at the latter, who drew rein when the weary horses plodded, steaming and bespattered all over, into the settlement.

"What are you stopping for?" he said.

Seaforth glanced at the wisp of blue smoke which hung about the pines behind Horton's hotel. "It's rather more than twelve hours since I've had a meal," he said. "Don't you ever get tired or hungry, Harry?"

Alton laughed. "Oh, yes; sometimes I do, but not usually when I'm busy. Anyway, if the beasts hold out we'll be getting breakfast at Somasco in two hours or so."

Seaforth groaned inwardly, but, knowing the futility of argument, shook his bridle and rode on, lurching a little in his saddle as the tired horse stumbled into mudholes and, brushed through dripping fern. By and by, however, Alton swung himself down in front of a lonely log-house with a big clearing behind it, where a man took their horses without a word and signed them to enter.

Seaforth stretched his limbs wearily, and would have dropped into a chair but that Alton stood erect until the man came back again, and dusting two seats with his soft hat pointed to them with a gesture of hospitality. His hair and beard were frosted, his face was lean and brown, and there were many wrinkles about his eyes, but he held himself very upright and pointed to the stove.

"Ye'll be in from Vancouver. I'll ready ye some pork and flapjacks?" he said.

Alton shook his head. "Don't worry, I can't wait," he said.

"Ye are very welcome," said the other.

"Of course!" said Alton simply; "still, I can't stop. I'm here to talk business, Callender."

Seaforth noticed that in face of the typical absence of protest or compliment there was nothing the most critical could find fault with in the invitation or the refusal. The old man was dressed in very curiously-patched jean, but he was almost stately in his simplicity, and nothing could have been more apposite than the little nod with which Alton made his affirmation. It implied a good deal more than speech could have done.

"Ye will be asking about the place?" said Callender. "I'm wanting three thousand dollars. It's worth all that."

Alton nodded, and it was evident that the men understood each other, for there was no endeavour to lessen or enhance the value of the property. "It will be worth more presently, but that's about the fair thing now," he said.

"Weel," said Callender simply, "by then I may be dead. Twenty years I've lived on my lone here, and I thought at one time I would be content to lie down by between the bush and the river, but now a longing to see the old land grips me. Ye will not understand it. Ye were born in Canada."

"No," said Alton gravely. "The land that has fed me is good enough for me."

The old man made a little gesture of assent. "Aye," he said. "It's a good country, but I feel the old one calling me. It's just three thousand dollars I'm asking ye."

Alton drew a sheet which seemed covered with calculations from his wallet, and glanced at it silently. Then he looked at the rancher.

"One thousand down, one thousand in six months, and the rest any time in two years, with six per cent," he said. "You might get the dollars in your wallet if you made the deal with a land agent in Vancouver."

"Maybe," said Callender simply; "I can trust ye. I would not sell the place to anybody."

Alton stood up. "You shall have a cheque to-morrow," he said.

They had mounted within another minute, and Alton glanced with a little smile at his comrade as they rode on again.

"That," said Seaforth, "was in a sense a somewhat effective scene, but I'm not sure which of us should go to the business school."

Alton laughed. "I don't often blunder when I deal with a man," said he. "Callender and I wouldn't have been better pleased, or five dollars richer, if we'd talked all day."

Seaforth nodded, though his eyes twinkled. "You don't seem so confident about the other sex?" he said.

Alton gravely pointed to a towering fir. "That redwood would fetch a good many dollars in Vancouver. I wonder when we'll get those saws through," he said.

While he spoke a thud of hoofs grew louder, and presently a man came riding in haste towards them down the trail. He drew bridle when he recognized them, and Seaforth became curious when he saw that it was Hallam. The latter made them an ironical salutation, and sat regarding Alton covertly with his cunning beady eyes until the rancher smiled.

"If you were going down to see Callender, I fancy you're a little too late," he said.

Seaforth wondered whether his comrade saw the wickedness in the other man's face, and the slight closing of his hands upon the bridle. It was very perceptible for a second, and then he made a gesture of resignation.

"I think there was another time you got in ahead of me, and it might be cheaper to buy you off," he said. "You haven't answered my letter asking what you wanted for all you're holding up here, as well as the ranch."

Alton flung his head back a trifle, and Seaforth knew what lay behind his laugh. "No," he said; "I put it in the stove."

A little grey spot appeared in Hallam's cheeks, and once more his fingers closed upon the bridle. "Well, you may be sorry by and by, but as I'm a business man first and last I'll give you another chance," he said. "There's not room for two of us in this valley, and with what I'm holding I can call you any time."

Alton's eyes were half closed now, and there was a glint in them. "I've been figuring on that," he said. "When I'm ready, I'll let you see my hand."

Now if Hallam had been taught his business, which was an especially mean one, in England he might have kept his temper; but he lacked finish, though his abilities were unpleasantly sufficient in the West.

"Then it is to be hoped you'll put up a better game than you did at Townshead's ranch. I was a little sorry for the girl," he said. "Met her once or twice in Vancouver, and she didn't seem well off."

Alton said nothing, but he pressed his heels home, and the big tired horse moved forward. The trail was narrow just there, and wound through a quaggy belt where tall wild cabbage grew out of black depths of mire. There was also no room for Hallam to wheel his horse on the slippery sawn-up logs, and Alton urged his beast on, glancing imperturbably at the man in front of him.

Again the grey crept into Hallam's face, and a very unpleasant look in his eyes, but he drew his bridle, and next moment his horse was floundering in the mire. Alton laughed a little as he rode on without glancing behind him.

"That may have been pleasant," said Seaforth dryly, "but in view of what I saw in Hallam's face I don't know that it was wise."

"Well," said Alton, "I think it was. There's only one way of arguing with a panther, and that beast's a good deal less dangerous than Hallam is. Now you'll ride in to the settlement to-morrow, and put up a notice at the store: 'The ranchers of the Somasco district are requested to attend a meeting at 6.30, Saturday.' At the bottom you'll put a big 'Important.' I've got to have a talk with you to-night."

He made a hasty breakfast when they reached the ranch, and was busy at the sawmill, from which he did not return until supper, all day, so that it was not until that meal was finished and he was waiting for Seaforth that he had speech with Miss Deringham. She sat by the stove apparently occupied with some delicate embroidery, but it was possible that her attention was not confined to the stitches. Alton sat near her, looking straight before him, in a deerhide chair, and it was significant that neither of them found speech necessary. The man's face was somewhat grim, and the girl wondered what he was thinking.

"You apparently did not find Vancouver enlivening," she said.

Alton laughed a little. "I took one or two little worries along, and found another when I got there."

Miss Deringham went on with her embroidery for a While, and then glanced at the man again. "I wonder if any of them were connected with the sale of Townshead's ranch?" she said.

Alton smiled a little. "I'm getting kind of afraid of you," he said. "One of them was."

Alice Deringham laughed prettily, and was inwardly contented. She had been used to influence and admiration, but there was a subtle pleasure in being the recipient of this man's homage, while she surmised that had he not offered her all of it he would not have made the admission concerning Townshead.

"Your recent neighbour is not doing well down there?" she said. "I am sorry for Miss Townshead."

Alton nodded, and his face was sombre as well as pitiful, "It's very rough on a girl of that kind, and she's true grit right through," he said. "I'm thankful you don't know what some women who have to earn their living doing what used to be men's work in the cities have to put up with."

"Still," said Alice Deringham, "I can guess. Miss Townshead was working at something uncongenial for a livelihood, and was not especially cordial to you?"

Alton looked at her gravely. "No," he said. "She hadn't even found that something yet, and she was very kind. That's what made me feel it worse."

"Of course she would not have shown you what she thought," said the girl a trifle dryly. "And you were not responsible in any case."

Alton glanced at her with some bewilderment. "No?" he said. "I'm sitting here with all that a man could wish for, while that girl, who was used to all the good things you have in the old country, walks round and round the city looking for something she can earn a few dollars at, when I might have fixed things differently if it hadn't been for Tom. It's hard to feel there's a meaner man than I am in the Dominion."

Miss Deringham saw the veins rise on his forehead and the glint in his eyes, and shivered a little as she hoped the man would never discover it was not the rancher who had brought the shame upon him.

"Would it have been possible for you to do anything to help them if you had reached the ranch in time?" she said.

"Yes," said Alton simply, "I think it would. And it would have been better for everybody in the district."

Though the girl did not altogether understand him, his very quietness was impressive, for she knew by this time that what he stated was usually rather more than less the fact.

"Well," she said lightly, "it was not your fault, and you will forget it presently."

Alton smiled wryly. "I don't know," he said. "There are some kinds of stains that don't wash out, but you're only wishing to be kind to me because you understand all that better than I do in the old country."

The girl glanced aside and dropped her needle, while when she spoke her voice was a trifle strained. "Do you know that you bushmen have made me ashamed once or twice?" she said. "I am afraid there is a great disappointment waiting for you when you see us as we are."

Alton rose as her father and Seaforth came in, with a curious little inclination of his head which came well from him. "That simply couldn't be," he said. "Well, it's a pity I couldn't tell you all you have done for me already—and that's one reason why I'm so sorry the other thing will not wash out. Now Charley and I have a good deal to do, and you'll excuse me."

He went out with his comrade, and Deringham smiled at his daughter. "He is learning rapidly. Still, I fancy the man will feel it when—and I am of course speaking impersonally—he finds you out," he said.

Alice Deringham laughed, though she was not conscious of much amusement just then, and pointed to the bookcase close by her.

"It is really not his fault, if that is where he gets his fancies from," she said.

"No," said Deringham, nodding. "We grow out of them at sixteen in the old country. Of course, Tennyson, Kingsley, Scott. Now I wonder if he would find Elaine a more common type than Vivienne if he went home to Carnaby. Still, if you look a little more closely, there is literature which might throw a slightly different light upon the man's character. I notice a bulky volume on soft-wooded trees, somebody on trigonometry, geology in relation to mining, and what I recognize as a standard work on finance and banking."

Alice Deringham smiled. "Do you know I fancy that Alton of Somasco would with a little training make his mark at home," she said. "Has he mentioned any intention of returning with you?"

Deringham's face grew a trifle sombre. "He has not. We will talk of something else," he said.

Alton and Seaforth sat up late that night, but what their conversation was did not appear until they walked into a room at the rear of Horton's store just as supper was being cleared away on the Saturday evening. The nights were already growing cold, and a pile of pinewood crackled in the stove, while the light of two big lamps fell upon the bronzed faces of grave jean-clad men, all turned expectantly towards Alton. He sat down at the head of the table, with Seaforth beside him, and Horton, got up in a frayed-out white shirt from which his bony wrists and red neck protruded grotesquely, at the foot. The rest sat on the table and sundry boxes and barrels smoking tranquilly. They were, for the most part, silent men who waged a grim and ceaseless warfare with the forest, and disdained any indication of curiosity. Nobody asked a question, but the steady eyes which watched the convener of the meeting were mildly inquiring when he rose up.

"I sent for you, boys, because it seemed the fairest thing," he said. "Now somebody has got to take hold with a tight grip if the dollars that are coming into it are to go to the men who have done the work in this valley. You have seen what has happened down Washington and Oregon way, and we don't any of us want it here in Canada. When the good time came was it the man who'd put in his twelve hours daily with the axe and crosscut who got the dollars, or the one who lived soft in the cities?"

There was a little growl from several among the assembly, for most of those who sat there realized that it was usually the mortgage broker and speculator who reaped where the toilers with axe and saw had sown.

"There'll have to be laws made to hold them fellows' grip off the poor man." said somebody.

Alton laughed a little. "Well," he said dryly, "it seems to me that the poor man should do a little of the holding off himself. Now I want you to listen carefully. Within twelve months you'll see a new wagon-road cut south towards the big river, and inside two years the surveyors running the line for a new railroad into the Somasco valley."

The men stared at the speaker, and there was a murmur, almost of doubt, and wonder. They knew what that promise meant, and it implied the opening of mines and mills, a market for all they could raise on the spot, and the quadrupling in value of every ranch. Alton sat quietly imperturbable at the head of the table.

"And you believe the thing's going to be?" said somebody.

"I think," said Alton quietly, "I have just told you so."

There was another murmur, of strong and patient men's unexpressed exultation, and Seaforth noticed that they had accepted his comrade's statement, without further question, implicitly. They were in some respects simple, and the complex life of the cities was unknown to most of them, but they had seen human nature stripped of its veneer in the bush and understood it well. It was a delicate compliment they had paid Alton, and the little flush in his face showed that he realized it.

"It's great news," said somebody.

Alton nodded. "Yes," he said. "Now I can't tell you exactly why I know this thing will come, and you wouldn't be any worse off if I were wrong. Further, you see I might have gone ahead and brought you up without speaking a word to you."

A man got up from a barrel. "No, sir," he said. "I'm not going to disturb this meeting, but that's just what you couldn't do. It wouldn't be like Somasco Harry."

There was grave applause, but the glint in the steady eyes was pleasant to see, and Seaforth felt a curious thrill as he glanced at his partner. Alton, however, proceeded quietly.

"I needn't tell you what it means," he said. "It may mean anything, including a wooden city. You know it as well as I do, but I'm going to tell you this. Unless you hold tight to your own, and do a little for yourselves, when the good time comes you'll be left out in the cold. There's a man who sees this better than you or I feeling for a grip on the Somasco valley, and there'll be very little left for the rest of us if he gets it."

"Hallam of the Tyee," a growl ran down the table.

Alton nodded. "Yes," said he. "Now you have seen poor men frozen out of their ranches and claims by men with money in other parts of this country as well as across the frontier, and there's usually only one end to the battle when the man without the dollars kicks against the man with plenty. Stay right where you are with mortgages held open, timber rights that are lapsing because you've done nothing, and undeveloped mineral claims, and the man who sits scheming while you're resting will squeeze you out one by one."

"It has happened before," said somebody, and there was silence for a space. The men had spent the best years of their life hewing the clearings that grew so slowly farther into the virgin forest, faring sparingly, and only quitting that herculean toil to earn sufficient dollars railroad building or working at the mines to feed them when they continued it again. They had sown the best that was in them of mind and body, giving all they had, courage that never faltered, as well as the ceaseless effort of over-strained muscle, and as yet their fee was but the right to hope and toil. And now, they knew, it was once more possible that the full-fleshed taxer of other men's labours would sweep what was theirs into his garner.

"Yes," said Alton. "And what has happened before will happen again—unless you stir round and stop it. That's the only use in remembering things. Standing alone, Hallam and his crowd will squeeze you out one by one; standing fast together for what is your own, you're fit to choke off anybody, and what I've called you here for is to see whether we can't fix up a Co-operative Company!"

A man stood up with a light in his eyes. "Then you've hit the thing plumb where you wanted," he said. "Whose standing in with Alton of Somasco, boys?"

There was a roar this time, and then a silence as if the assembly felt that they had done an unseemly thing, but it was evident that they were all of them ready.

"I figure you've got a programme?" said somebody.

"I have," said Alton. "I'll have a bigger one by and by, but in the meanwhile it includes the selling of timber in place of destroying it, and a doubling right off of the Somasco mill. It also takes in a gristmill, the recording of more timber rights, and most of you getting in on the ground floor of a new silver mine. There's to be an office down in Vancouver, and a desiccated fruit store, and the best men we can get hold of to run them. Now sit still while I read what might do for a scheme."

They sat very still, and even Seaforth, who knew his comrade, wondered a little, for that scheme, while crude in one or two directions, was eminently workable. It provided for a pro rata division of profits and partition of expenses, while each man would retain the control of his own holding, and those who listened nodded now and then as they noted the efficiency of some portion of the plan of co-operation.

"Now," said Alton quietly, laying down the paper. "That's my notion. I'm willing to listen if any man can bring out a better."

There was a silence until Horton rose up at the foot of the table, glass in hand. "I," he said simply, "don't think he can. Every dollar I can raise is going in, and we're all standing in with Alton. Here's the Somasco Consolidated, and to —— with Hallam."

There was a roar louder than the first one, a clink of glasses, and forgetting their reticence for once the big bronzed men thronged about the one who smiled at them from the head of the table.



CHAPTER XIV

THE COMPACT

After the first meeting of the Somasco Consolidated, Alton was frequently absent from the ranch, and spent most of the nights shut up with bulky books, while he also apparently became involved in an extensive correspondence with the cities. There were, however, times when Miss Deringham surprised him standing still and gazing into vacancy, which was distinctly unusual with him, but the girl, who had once or twice noticed his eyes fixed upon her and signs of an inward conflict in his face, was not displeased. She could arrive at a tolerably accurate deduction as well as most young women.

In the meanwhile Seaforth had gone down to Vancouver, and Deringham still appeared content to linger at Somasco. He had, his daughter knew, been ordered a lengthy rest, and it was evident that the tranquillity of the mountain ranch was benefiting him physically, though now and then the girl noticed that his face was anxious when communications from England reached him. She was also, for no reason she was willing to admit, content to remain a little longer at Somasco.

One night when she was sitting meditatively in the room set apart for her use, Alton passed the half-opened door, and noticing the curious slowness of his pace she signed him to enter. She had, somewhat to the indignation of Mrs. Margery, taken the room in hand, and with the aid of a few sundries surreptitiously brought from Vancouver with Seaforth's connivance, made a transformation in its aspect. A red curtain hung behind the door. There were a few fine furs which Seaforth had collected here and there about the ranch upon the floor, and Alton, who had just returned from a ride of forty miles through the mire and rain, stopped a moment upon the threshold. He was a man of quick perceptions, and all he saw seemed stamped with the personality of its occupant.

It was dainty, and essentially feminine, and he became, for perhaps the first time, uneasily conscious of his own solid masculine proportions and bespattered garments as he glanced deprecatingly at the girl. She lay with lithe gracefulness in a basket chair, very collected and very pretty, while he dimly understood that the fact that she did not move but only smiled at him implied a good deal. A brightness flashed into his eyes and sank out of them again.

"Come in and sit down," she said, "I have seen very little of you lately, and you seem tired. Half-an-hour's casual chatter will do you no harm, although it may appear to you a terrible waste of time."

Alton came in and dropped into a chair which creaked beneath him. His face was somewhat weary, and the girl noticed the stiffness of his movements. He also looked about him with a curious expression which seemed to suggest reverence in his eyes.

"No," he said gravely, "it wouldn't be a waste of time."

Alice Deringham smiled a little, and moved one foot a trifle nearer the stove. It was little, and delicately moulded, and lost nothing from being encased in a very open bronze slipper. Alton, noticing the slight rustle of fabric which accompanied the movement, glanced towards it, and then turned his eyes away.

"You see I have been taking liberties," said the girl. "All this is very tawdry, isn't it?"

Alton's eyes were wistful. "No. Do you know, this place has quite an effect on me. It makes me feel—as if I were in church," said he.

Miss Deringham's face was not responsive. There were times when she was sensible of a curious compunction in this rancher's presence. "A sensation of that kind is apt to become oppressive," she said. "When we have gone you will throw these things away."

The man seemed to wince, as though the contemplation of something was painful to him, but he looked at his companion gravely.

"I think I shall screw the door up tight," he said.

Alice Deringham laughed musically. "Now I think that was very pretty," she said. "It seems commonplace to offer you a cup of coffee after it, and no doubt you will consider the indulgence in such luxuries a sign of weakness. I have reasons for believing that Mrs. Margery does."

Alton smiled somewhat grimly. "I'm just about as fond of good things as most other men," he said. "The difficulty was that I seldom had the chance of getting them."

Miss Deringham busied herself with a spirit lamp, and Alton watched her with a little glint in his eyes. Possibly the girl knew that her movements were graceful as she bent over the lamp, and that the light from the one above her struck a fine sparkle from her hair. She may also have been aware that the picture had its attractions for a man who had lived a grim life of toil and self-denial, as this one had done.

"It has occurred to me that this coffee is not the same that we had when we first came to Somasco," she said.

Alton appeared a trifle embarrassed. "I had to go down and worry Horton about one or two little things," he said. "It's good for him occasionally, and he had been sending me flour we couldn't use lately."

Miss Deringham nodded, though she was quite aware that the storekeeper was scarcely likely to supply axemen and ranchers, whose tastes were simple and dollars scarce, with what she guessed by its bouquet was the finest product of Costa Rica. If she had not been, she was capable of deducing a little from the stamp upon the packets she had seen in Mrs. Margery's store, which showed that they had come direct from Vancouver.

Alton took up the cup handed him, and leaned back in his chair with a little gesture of content, while the girl smiled as she glanced at him.



"You bear it very well," she said.

The man looked at her with a bewildered expression for a moment or two. Then he laughed. "No," he said, "I find it wonderfully nice."

There was an underlying sincerity in his voice, and Alice Deringham driven by curiosity went a step farther.

"The coffee?" she said.

She was almost sorry next moment, for she had at other times called up considerably more than she had expected or desired from the unsounded depths of the man's nature. For a second or two there was a great wistfulness, which changed into a little glow she shrank from, in his eyes. He turned them upon her, and then away, and they were once more grave when he looked back again. Still, she guessed what that effort had cost him.