and fight his fears."

"I'd like to know what Driscoll's object is. Since the night in his
shack, when the fellow was sick, I've wondered why Strange's canoe
capsized. Strange was a clever _voyageur_; so's Black Steve."

Father Lucien looked at him curiously and there was a hint of shrinking
in his eyes. "I cannot tell; perhaps we shall never know! But if there
was foul play, what would Driscoll gain?"

"It's hard to see," Thirlwell agreed. "I could understand it if Steve
had afterwards staked a claim, but nobody has found the ore yet. There's
another curious thing; I don't see what he'd gain by leaving you to
starve, as I think he meant to do."

"No," said Father Lucien sharply, "that is impossible! Besides, Driscoll
was trapping some distance off."

"A white man stood looking down at you and then stole away, although he
saw you had no camp outfit," Thirlwell insisted.

"He may have been short of food and came to borrow. Seeing I had none,
he was perhaps afraid to share any he had left with me."

Thirlwell shook his head. "I haven't met a prospector who would let a
white man starve; they're a rough but generous lot. In fact, the only
man I know who's capable of the thing is Driscoll."

Father Lucien did not answer and presently lay down, but Thirlwell sat
for a time, thinking while he dried his moccasins. The missionary was