,
and hamper the working of one or two companies. He would, so far as he
could see, be a much poorer man in a few months or so, but he fancied
he could gain time to save the reputation that would help him to
commence again, and to men of his attainments there are always
opportunities. Then he sent off a mounted messenger, and rode slowly
back towards Somasco, while Horton spent some time examining a
blotting-pad in his back store.

"I'm kind of sorry I can't make anything of that stuff," said he.
"What's the use of wiring any one the names of cities?"

During the next day Alton drew Deringham into his room, and laid a
document on the table. "I don't know if that's quite the usual thing,
but Horton and I have been worrying over a lawyer's book, and I think
it will hold," he said.

Deringham took up the paper, and again there was the little movement at
the corners of his eye as he read.

"I, Henry Alton, of Somasco ranch, being now in sound health, and as
clear of head as usual, but about to start on a journey to which there
are risks attached, hereby bequeath in the event of disaster overtaking
me the estate of Carnaby, England, with all its rents and revenues of
any kind whatever to which I am entitled, to Miss Alice Deringham,
daughter of ----. In case of my decease during the next six months,
the above-mentioned Ralph Deringham and my partner Charles Seaforth, of
Somasco, British Columbia, will, acting as trustees, either dispose of
the estate for the benefit of Miss Deringham or install her in
possession of it at her discretion."

There was a little more to the purpose, and Deringham read all of it.
"This is very generous," he said.

"No," said Alton, "it's only just, and it can't be very generous,
because Carnaby wouldn't be much use to me if I don't come back. I
could, of course, revoke this thing if I do."

Deringham said nothing. There was a good deal he wished to say, but
for once words failed him, and when he went out with the will in his
pocket his face had grown a trifle grey. Yet though he suffered
grievously in that moment, he was conscious of something in his brain
that throbbed in time to the refrain, "Alice Deringham, mistress of
Carnaby."

CHAPTER XV

ON THE TRAIL

Daylight was just creeping through the rain, and thin mist rolled about
the pines, when early one morning Alton, who was setting out to find
the silver, stood upon the verandah of Somasco ranch. The trickle from
t