esented his
airs of one-sided proprietorship and were trying to decide with herself
to tolerate no more of it.

"I tried to veer round to the subject with Joe once, but he swore an
oath and told me to mind my own affairs. What Joe Clark needs is
opposition. Yet Joe is a good fellow, strong and daring as a lion and
aggressive to a degree."

I was deeply interested as the old minister told the story, and it was
like bringing me up suddenly when he stopped. I had no idea how fast
the time had been passing.

Well I could understand now why this Rita Clark intuitively hated The
Ghoul Rock. Who, in her place, would feel otherwise?

The Rev. William Auld rose from the table.

"I must go now, my son, for the way is long. Thanks so much for the
rest and for your hospitality. My only exhortation to you is, stand
firm by all the principles you know to be true; never lose hold of the
vital things because you are here in the wilds, for it is here the
vital things count, more than in the whirr of civilisation."

"Thank you, sir. I'll try," I said. "You will come again, I hope."

"Certainly I shall. Even if you did not ask me, for that is my duty.

"If you accompany me as far as Jake's cove, where my launch is, I think
I can furnish you with a paper from your countryside. I have friends
in the city, in the States and in England, who supply me, every week,
with American and Old Country papers. There are so many men from both
lands in the camps and settled along the coast and they all so dearly
love a newspaper. I generally try to give them what has been issued
nearest their own home towns."

I rowed Mr. Auld over to his launch and wished him good-bye, receiving
from his kindly old hands a copy of _The Northern Examiner_, dated
three days after I had left Brammerton.

It was like meeting with an old friend, whom I had expected never to
meet again. I put it in my inside pocket for consideration when I
should get back to my bungalow with plenty of time to enjoy it.

I dropped in to Jake's shack, for I had not seen him all the sleepy
day. I found him sitting in perfect content, buried up over the eyes
in a current issue of _The Northern Lights_,--a Dawson newspaper, which
had been in existence since the old Klondike days and was much relished
by old-timers.

The dog was curled up near the stove, sleeping off certain effects;
Jake was at his second cup of whisky. I left them to the peace and
sanctity of their S