"Any heirs?" asked Bruce.

"Heirs? To the partners? Yes, one. A girl, noo. Ye'll be kenin' the lass
thet helps in the boardin' shack where you and the bosses eat?"
"La Vaune?" grinned Barney, poking Bruce in the ribs. "Do you _know_
her?" La Vaune, the little black-eyed French Canadian, had taken quite a
liking to her handsome young fellow-countryman, Bruce.

"Well, noo," said the old Scotchman. "Thet's the lass noo. An' should you
find the money noo, it will all be hers. An' ye'll be lookin' fer it noo,
won't ye? Many's the time I took a wee snack and a blanket an' made a wee
pack an' gone into the woods to find him. But I hae never seen track o'
him. He'll nae be by Lake Athapapukskow, fer there's folks there; not by
Lake Weskusko neither, fer I been there, but som'ers in the woods Timmie
is, an' if he's dead his shack'll be there an' the money, fer he never
coom out o' th' woods again, thet shamed he was."

The boys promised to keep an eye out for Timmie, if ever they went
into the unknown wilderness, and left the old man with a new hope
shining in his eyes.

For a long time after reaching the office the boys worked in silence. At
last Barney straightened his tired shoulders and glanced at Bruce. He was
in a brown study.

"What's on your mind, Bruce?" he asked. "That money?"

"Thinking what it would do for La Vaune; five thousand seven hundred and
twenty-four dollars." Bruce rolled the words out slowly. Though they said
no more about it, the old man's story was the inspiration of many a wild