mean?"

"I mean this. You told nobody about the iron, now you go and tell
everybody about the gold. Shout about it. The more you tell the
better. The whole town can prospect on our concession if they want to.
I hope every one of them will find gold. I'll come out myself next
week and see what you've turned up, and of course you get for it what I
gave you for the iron last year. Au revoir, mon vieux, and when you go
to town, talk--talk--talk! But just wait a minute in the outside
office."

Fisette backed silently out, his dark brow pinched into puzzled
wrinkles. He had expected his patron to take the samples and stare at
them and then at him with that wonderful look he remembered so well and
could never forget; a look that had made the breed feel strangely proud
and happy. He had often seen it since when, quite alone in the woods,
he peered through the gray smoke of his camp fire and imagined his
patron sitting just on the other side. And now he was to go into St.
Marys and do nothing but talk! He shook his head doubtfully.

No sooner had the door closed than Clark summoned the superintendent of
his railway department.

"Fisette has found gold out near the line. There's going to be a rush,
and you'd better get ready for it. Also you'd better run up some kind
of an hotel at Mile 61,--it's the jumping off place. That's
all--please send Pender here."

A moment later he turned to his secretary.

"Fisette is waiting outside. Talk to him, he's found gold. Get the
story and give it to the local paper. Say that I've no objection to
prospectors working on our concession, and that I'll guarantee title to
anything they find. Get in touch with the Toronto papers and let them
have it too. That's all."

The door closed again and, with a strange feeling of restlessness, he
walked over to the rapids, seating himself close to their thundering
tumult. What message had the rapids for him now? And just as the
voice of irresistible power began to bore into his brain he noticed a
girl perched on a rock close by. Simultaneously she turned. It was
Elsie Worden.

She waved a hand, and he moved carefully up stream over the slippery
boulders. She looked at him with startled pleasure. It was unlike
Clark to move near to any one.

"I hope I'm not trespassing."

"No," his voice came clearly through the roar of many waters; "do you
often come here?"

She smiled. "It's the most conversational place I know."

T