had the whisky."

Weston sat thoughtfully silent a minute or two. It seemed to him that
while the result of the course his comrade advocated might well prove
to be disastrous, as it had certainly done in his particular case,
there was a warranty for it. If it were true that practically nothing
could be obtained without cost, it was clear that the excess of
prudence which shrank from incurring the latter could lead only to
aridity of life. The thoughtless courage which snatched at what was
offered seemed a much more fruitful thing, though one might afterward
bear the smart as well as enjoy the sweet. To accomplish or obtain
anything one must at least face a risk. He remembered how, when he
clung hesitating to the slippery rock, Ida Stirling had bidden him
jump. He was, however, not a moralist, but a man with a simple code
which, a few hours ago, had proved singularly difficult to adhere to.
He had then seen something in Ida Stirling's eyes that set his nerves
tingling, but he could not take advantage of the momentary reaction of
relief at his escape. He wondered, though, why Grenfell had spoken as
he had, until the latter turned to him again.

"You mentioned that you nearly pulled Miss Stirling in when she held
out that rod," he said. "You didn't notice that she showed any signs
of letting it go?"

"I don't think she did."

"You don't think so!" laughed Grenfell. "That girl would have gone
right down the fall before she let you go. She's the kind that sees
things through. I wonder whether she said anything in particular
afterward?"

Weston's face hardened as he looked at him out of half-closed eyes.

"She did not. What makes you suggest it?"

"Well," said Grenfell, reflectively, "she's flesh and blood like the
rest of us. She's also a girl with courage enough not to hesitate. I'm
not sure"--and he spread out his hands--"that I couldn't have made
better use of your opportunities."

Weston said nothing, though he was hot with anger; and just then
Kinnaird, who appeared in the lighted doorway of the house, moved in
their direction. He stopped close beside them.

"I think I would better tell you now that we have decided to leave
this place early next week," he said. "You can see about getting the
surplus stores and some of the baggage down the lake to-morrow."

Weston fancied that he looked at him rather hard; but, though the
unexpected news had filled him with dismay, he sat very still until
Kinnaird, who said