man from the cities.

"Which of you is Mr. Thirlwell?" he asked.

"I am," said Thirlwell. "Who are you?"

"Ian Drummond; the boys call me Jake. A son of Hector Drummond's of
Longue Sault factory."

"Ah," said Scott, "this gets interesting! Did Hector Drummond send
you?"

"No; he died nine years since."

Scott gave Thirlwell a meaning look, and turned to the young man.

"Then what do you want?"

"To begin with, I want a job."

"A job?" said Scott with some surprise. "What can you do?"

"I know nothing about mining, but I'm pretty strong," Drummond answered,
giving Scott a deerskin bag. "Anyhow, Mr. Thirlwell had better read his
letter before you hire me. Antoine, the _patron_, brought up your mail."

"Very well," said Scott. "The cook will give the boys supper soon and
you had better go along. Come back afterwards."

When the lad had gone, Thirlwell felt pleasantly excited as he opened a
letter Scott took out of the bag, for he saw it was from Agatha. She
told him that Drummond had met her in Toronto and related how Stormont
had victimized him. The young man stated that he wanted to see the North
and would like to get work where he could watch for the prospecting
party he thought Stormont would send up.

"I warned him that you may not be able to give him employment, but he is
keen about going and willing to take the risk," she said. "We can, I
think, trust him to some extent, and perhaps he knows enough about my
father's journey to be useful; but I cannot tell if it would be prudent
to offer him a reward. I am glad to feel I can leave this to you, and
will, of course, agree to the line you think it proper to take."

Thirlwell read part of the letter to Scott, who said, "Miss Strange
seems to have a flattering confidence in your judgment. Do you want me
to hire the fellow?"

"I don't know yet. I wouldn't ask you to engage him unless he could be
of use."

"You needn't hesitate on that ground, since we're two men short," Scott
answered, smiling. "Well, suppose we wait until we have talked to him. I
guess you know this silver-lode is getting hold of me."

"I wonder why!"

Scott laughed. "You understand machines and rocks; to some extent I
understand men. Anyhow, I find them interesting, and perhaps other
people's firm belief in the lode influences me."

By and by Drummond came back and Scott studied him as he advanced. He
saw the lad had a strain of Indian blood, and he knew something about
the half