and herds of cattle all your
own, and by and by the railroad coming through to bring you the long
dreamed of prosperity. It's alluring, Harry?"

The glint was a trifle plainer in Alton's eyes, and his lean fingers
were closed together. "I don't quite see where that trail leads to,"
he said quietly.

Seaforth laughed a little. "It is good to rise when the sun is
creeping above the firs and plunge down into an ice-cold pool. Better
still to lie on the verandah, tired in body, tranquil in mind, when the
snows are fading and your work is done, knowing that every redwood hewn
and new plough-furrow driven has been so much added to the prosperity
of this province and the Dominion. It isn't a bad life--this one you
were meant for, Harry."

"No," said Alton slowly. "There are times when I'm a very thankful
man."

"Well, there is another one, and I have seen very tired men playing at
being amused by the trifles that sickened them. They had, however,
kept up the game so long that the manhood they were once proud of was
only a memory. There are a good many of them in the old country, and
some of them have sacrificed all they had for the one thing that wasn't
good for them. It was too late when they found it out, Harry."

Alton's face was grim. "It would," he said, "be a pity if you and I
fell out, Charley."

Seaforth laughed in a curious fashion. "It would, but I scarcely think
we shall. You and I are partners, and a little more, and I will keep
silent now I have spoken."

Alton said nothing, but sat smoking and staring at the fire, until
Seaforth rolled himself in his damp blankets and sank into not
altogether refreshing sleep. A misty light was creeping into the tent
when he was awakened by the thudding of his companion's axe, and rising
stiffly with the ache at the hip-joint which every bushman knows, went
out shivering.

"Coffee!" said Alton. "I left it in the deerhide bag in the canoe."

Seaforth's limbs were too stiff to be much use to him yet, and he
blundered amidst the boulders, falling over one or two, before he
reached the shingle where they had partly drawn out the canoe. Then he
stood still, staring about him, and saw only the green-tinted water
sliding by under the uncertain light, and the pines on the other side
growing a trifle plainer through the mist. Turning, he hastened along
the shingle until a shelf of rock shut it in, and then back to the tent
again. Alton laid down the axe, for