Presently the man stooped, as if to pick up something, and Thirlwell,
stealing forward, sank down among the willows. They rustled as he crept
between their stems, but the fire was snapping furiously and after he
had gone a few yards he thought he was near enough. Rising nearly
upright, he pushed the dry branches aside. Since they broke his outline,
it would be hard to see him by the unsteady light.

The flames tossed and wavered, throwing a fierce red glow about the
camp. Pine-trunks and snow-bank stood out sharply from the shadow, and
faded again. The light played on the men's faces for a few moments and
then left them blurred and dim. Thirlwell waited until one threw on some
branches and a blaze and cloud of sparks sprang up. The glare touched
the fellow's face and Thirlwell thrilled with excitement as he saw it
was Driscoll.

He did not know the others, but one had a rather pale color, as if he
had come from the cities, and his fur-coat looked new and good. The
sledge carried an unusually heavy load, and among the provision bags he
noted some iron drills and a small wooden box such as giant-powder is
packed in. It was a prospecting party and he had seen enough.

Creeping back into the scrub, he set off for camp. When he got there
Father Lucien was asleep, and when they resumed the march next morning
Thirlwell told him nothing about the other party. He thought the
missionary had difficulties enough of his own without being involved in
the trouble that seemed to follow all who had anything to do with
Strange's silver lode.