Thirlwell left him and smiled half impatiently as he went back across the rocks.  He had sometimes been puzzled, and sometimes amused, by Agatha’s confidence, and now Drummond, who had given him no help so far, talked about an elusive clue.  It looked as if both allowed their imagination too much rein, and trusted to vague feelings instead of their reasoning powers.  Give him a compass bearing, or a definite base-line to calculate an angle from, and he would engage to take the party to the required spot; but he had frankly no use for the other thing.  Yet he sometimes wondered—­there was a calm assurance in Agatha’s eyes.  If this was not founded on superstition, from what did it spring?

They launched again in the afternoon, and reached the head of the lake wet and tired.  Thirlwell did not talk much after supper, but sat by the fire, smoking, for some time after Agatha went to her tent.  He had, in fact, been rather silent for the last few days.  Now they were near the end of their journey he did not know if he wanted Agatha to find the lode or not.  When they started he had imagined that the search would lead to nothing, and had gone because her society had a charm and he wanted to free her mind of a dangerous illusion.  But he could no longer think the lode an illusion.  The silver was there, and if one searched long enough, could, no doubt, be found.

This was somehow disturbing, but with a half-conscious wish to shirk the truth he would not inquire bluntly why it disturbed him.  He wanted the girl to be happy, and had thought it best for her that she should give up the attempt to find the lode.  Now he must readjust his views, and it was hard to see what place there would be for him in her affairs if she became the owner of a rich mining claim.

Next morning they made a difficult portage to another lake, and launching the canoes at noon found the wind blowing fresh.  The lake was wide, and when by and by an angry sea got up Thirlwell reluctantly steered for the shelter of a rocky point.  They had covered very little ground since they started, and there was only another day of the fortnight left.  After supper some of the men went fishing, and Drummond set off alone along the beach, while Agatha and Thirlwell sat among the rocks where the pungent wood-smoke drifted past and kept the mosquitoes off.  The sun had set and the air was very clear; they could see the ragged pines across the lake, but the trees on the point behind them cut off their view to the north.

Presently Drummond came back, running fast, and stopped in front of Agatha.  His eyes sparkled and the sweat ran down his face.

“What’s the matter?” Thirlwell asked.  “Have the timber wolves got after you?”

“The broken range!” Drummond gasped.  “Get up, Miss Strange, and come right along!”

Agatha looked at Thirlwell, who smiled.  “I don’t know what he means, but perhaps we had better go.”