"Yes; it's remarkably nice after living for nine years in the wilderness,
with only an occasional visit to some little wooden town."

A fresh dish was laid before him, and his companion smiled.

"You didn't get things of this kind among the pines."

"No," laughed Vane. "In fact, cookery is one of the bushman's trials;
anyway, when he's working for himself. You come back dead tired, and
often very wet, to your lonely tent, and then there's a fire to make and
supper to get before you can rest. It happens now and then that you're
too played out to trouble, and you go to sleep instead."

"Dreadful!" sympathized the girl. "But you have been in Vancouver
before?"

"Except on the last occasion, I stayed down near the water-front. We were
not provided with luxurious quarters or with suppers of this kind there."

"It's romantic; and, though you're glad it's over, there must be some
satisfaction in feeling that you owe the change to your own efforts. I
mean it must be nice to think one has captured a fair share of the good
things of life, instead of having them accidentally thrust upon one.
Doesn't it give you a feeling that in some degree you're master of your
fate? I should like that"

It was subtle flattery, and there were reasons why it appealed to the
man. He had worked for others, sometimes for inadequate wages, and had
wandered about the Province, dusty and footsore, in search of employment,