Strange was young then, and was probably frank and enthusiastic about
his find. I daresay he gave the agent all the particulars he could
recollect when he saw the fellow doubted his tale. His memory was, no
doubt, pretty good, since he'd seen the lode a week or two before."

"They have pulled down the factory and I expect the agent's dead,"
Thirlwell replied. "If not, he must be an old man and I don't know where
he is. I'm not persuaded yet that Strange did find the ore; but if it
hadn't snowed, I'd have followed Stormont's trail. It would be
interesting to know where he means to look."

He frowned as he lighted his pipe, because it was too late to satisfy
his curiosity. The prospectors had vanished into the trackless
desolation, and now deep snow had fallen the wilds would hide them well.
Scott pondered for a few minutes and then resumed: "You mean to help
Miss Strange put this matter over, although you don't believe in the
lode?"

"Yes," said Thirlwell, "I've promised her."

"Then you're up against two hard men who have got a start, and one of
them is dangerous."

"Black Steve? Well, I believe he meant to leave Father Lucien to starve,
but I don't see why."

"You need help yourself," Scott rejoined dryly. "When Driscoll was ill
and delirious he talked in a curious way, and when he got better may
have had some recollection of being badly scared. If so, I expect he
imagined he said more than he did and had, so to speak, given himself