irlwell sat on one of the hearth-logs and lighted
his pipe. Agatha was pleased that he did so. While they were in the bush
their relations must be marked by an informal friendliness, as if she
were a comrade and partner and not a girl. Anything that hinted at the
difference in their sex must be avoided.

"You'll get used to camp-life in a few days," he remarked by and by. "At
first I expect you'll find it a change from, the cities. Things are
rudimentary in the bush."

"Nothing jars, except the mosquitoes," Agatha replied. "I have no sense
of strangeness; in fact, I feel as if I had been here before and
belonged to the woods."

"After, all, you do know something about them. I think you said you had
camped in the timber."

"That was different. It was a summer camp, organized by the railroad,
and supplied with modern comforts. You bought a ticket and a gasolene
launch took you up the lake. Then the men wore smart flannels and the
girls new summer clothes. In the evenings one sang and played a banjo,
another a mandolin."

Thirlwell laughed. "You don't like music?"

"I love it; but not ragtime and modern coon songs in the bush. No doubt
the people who went there had earned a holiday, but it would have been
different had they gone to fish or hunt. They went to loaf, play noisy
games, and flirt. Indeed, I used to think we jarred as much as the
horrible dump of old fruit and meat cans among the willows."

"I think I know what you mean. Man makes ugly marks on the wilderness
unless he goes to farm. A mine, for example, is remarkably
unpicturesque."

"But it stands for endeavor, for something useful done."

"Not all mines. A number stand for wasted money."

"And vanished hopes," said Agatha. "Do you think I shall find the lode?
I want you to be frank."

Thirlwell hesitated. "On the whole, I don't think so, but my judgment
mayn't be sound and my employer, Scott, does not agree. Anyway, I'll
help you all I can."

For a moment or two Agatha studied him. His face was brown and rather
thin and had a hint of quiet force; his easy pose was graceful but
virile. Somehow he did not clash with the austerity of the woods; nor
did the other men, who now sat, smoking, round the larger fire. Agatha
liked their quietness, their slow, drawling speech and tranquil
movements. She knew she could trust Thirlwell, but remembering a remark
of Mabel Farnam's, she asked herself why he had offered his help. She
could find no satisfactory