tter come over and see us."

"I'll try, but I'm rushed to get back," replied Oldham formally.

"How's the work coming on?" asked Plant. "When you going to start
fluming 'em down?"

"As soon as we can get our permit," replied Bob.

Plant chuckled.

"Well, you did get in a hole there, didn't you? I guess you better go
ahead. It'll take all summer to get the permit, and you don't want to
lose a season, do you?"

Astonished at the effrontery of the man, Bob could with difficulty
control his expression.

"We expect to start to-morrow or next day," he replied. "Just as soon
as we can get our teams organized. Just scribble me a temporary permit,
will you?" He offered a fountain pen and a blank leaf of his notebook.

Plant hesitated, but finally wrote a few words.

"You won't need it," he assured Bob. "I'll pass the word. But there you
are."

"Thanks," said Bob, folding away the paper. "You seem to be comfortably
fixed here."

Plant heaved his mighty body to its legs. His fat face beamed with
pride.

"My boy," he confided to Bob, laying a pudgy hand on the young man's
shoulder, "this is the best camp in the mountains--without any
exception."

He insisted on showing Bob around. Of course, the young fellow,
unaccustomed as yet to the difficulties of mountain transportation,
could not quite appreciate to the full extent the value in forethought
and labour of such things as glass windows, hanging lamps, enamelled
table service, open fireplaces, and all the thousand and one
conveniences--either improvised or transported mule-back--that Plant
displayed. Nevertheless he found the place most comfortable and
attractive.

They caught a glimpse of skirts disappearing, but in spite of Plant's
roar of "Minnie!" the woman failed to appear.

"My niece," he explained.

In spite of himself, Bob found that he was beginning to like the fat
man. There could be no doubt that the Supervisor was a great rascal;
neither could there be any doubt but that his personality was most
attractive. He had a bull-like way of roaring out his jokes, his orders,
or his expostulations; a smashing, dry humour; and, above all, an
invariably confident and optimistic belief that everything was going
well and according to everyone's desires. His manner, too, was hearty,
his handclasp warm. He fairly radiated good-fellowship and good humour
as he rolled about. Bob's animosity thawed in spite of his half-amused
realization of what he ought to feel.