er to offer impracticable advice or to predict
his failure, and Geoffrey listened quietly, answering that in time it
would be proved which was right. Sometimes, he tramped through scented
shadow to Graham's homestead and discussed crops and cattle with the
rancher. On these occasions, he had long conversations with Helen
Savine, who, finding no person of liberal education thereabouts, was
pleased to talk to him. There was nothing incongruous in this, for
petty class distinctions vanish in the bush, where, when his daily task
is done, the hired man meets his master on terms of equality.

At last the day on which Thurston's work was to be practically tested
arrived, and most of the ranchers drove over to witness what they
regarded as a reckless experiment.

Jean Graham and Helen Savine stood a little apart from the rest on the
edge of the forest looking down on the glancing water and talking with
the experimenter. The rich wet meadows were heavy with flag and
blossom to the edge of the driftwood frieze, and the splash of rising
trout alone disturbed the reflection of the mighty trunks and branches
crowning a promontory on the farther side.

"It is very beautiful, and now you are going to spoil it all, Mr.
Bransome," said Helen.

The rancher glanced at her with admiration in his eyes. Helen was
worthy of inspection. Her thin summer dress, with the cluster of
crimson roses tucked into the waist of it, brought out her rich beauty
which betokened a Latin ancestry.

"Yes, it's mighty pretty; a picture worth looking at--all of it," he
said, and there was a faint smile on Helen's lips as she recognized
that the general tribute to the picturesque was as far as Bransome
dared venture in the direction of a compliment. He was not a diffident
person, but he felt a wholesome respect for Helen Savine.

"Mighty pretty, but what's the good of it, and I'm not farming for my
health," he continued. "It's just a beautiful wilderness, and what has
a man brains given him for, unless it's to turn the wilderness into
cheese and butter. It has broken one man's heart, and my thick-headed
neighbors said a swamp it would remain forever, but a stranger with
ideas came along, and I told him, 'Sail ahead.'"

"I did hear you told him not to be a--perhaps I had better say--a
simple fool," Helen answered mischievously; and Bransome coughed before
he made reply.

"Maybe!" he acknowledged. "I didn't know him then, but to-day I'm
ready to