ds a dam?"

Nasmyth frowned, though she saw a little glow kindle in his eyes. "I'm
by no means sure that I possess any of those desirable qualities.
Besides, there's a rather serious objection--that of finance."

Then Laura Waynefleet made it clear that she had considered the
question, and she favoured the man with a glimpse of the practical
side of her character.

"The stores give long credit, and partial payments are generally made
as a work of that kind goes on. Then it is not a very unusual thing
for workmen to wait for their wages until the contract is carried
through."

Nasmyth lay still for at least another minute. He had gradually lost
his ambition during the few years he had wandered through the Bush of
British Columbia. The aimless life was often hard, but it had its
compensations, and he had learned to value its freedom from
responsibility and care. When he did not like a task he had
undertaken, he simply left it and went on again. Still, he had had
misgivings now and then when he noticed how far some of his comrades
had drifted. Presently he rose slowly to his feet.

"Well," he said, "you're right, I think, and, if I'm given an
opportunity, I'll undertake the thing. The credit will be yours if I'm
successful."

The girl rose. "Then," she admonished, with a faint smile, "don't tell
me that you have failed."

She turned away and left him somewhat abruptly, but Nasmyth did not
resume his fishing, though he could hear the big trout splashing in
the pool as the sunset light faded off the water. He lay down among
the wineberries, which were scattered among the glossy leaves like
little drops of blood, to think harder than he had thought for a
considerable time. An hour ago, as he had told Laura Waynefleet, he
would have been well content to stay on at the ranch, and, though she
had roused him, he knew that it would cost him an effort to leave it.
He was not, he fancied, in love with her. Indeed, he now and then
admitted that she would probably look for more from the man who won
her favour than there was in him, but the camaraderie--he could think
of no better word for it--that had existed between them had been very
pleasant to him.

He realized that he was in one sense hers to dispose of. She had, in
all probability, saved his life, and now she was endeavouring to
arouse his moral responsibility. She was sending him out to play a
man's part in the battle of life. He admitted that he had shrunk from
it,