“That,” said Thirlwell, “is, no doubt, where the rampikes stood.  They’ve gone, and young willows have sprung up.  Yonder’s the low cliff.  It looks as if we had arrived!”

Agatha stopped for a few moments and felt her heart beat.  The dream she had first dreamed long since had come true, but she knew it might not have done so had she not had Thirlwell’s help.  In the meantime, the scene impressed itself upon her brain, so that she could long afterwards recall it when she wished—­the nearly level sunbeams falling across the trees and turning their bark fiery red, the gleam of water, and the figures of the men plodding slowly downhill with their loads.  Their faces glowed like polished copper in the searching light, their overalls were ragged and stained, and one stumbled and lurched wildly down a slope with a rattle of rolling stones.  Then she glanced at Thirlwell, who stood close by, watching her with a sympathetic smile, though his pose was rather strained.

“Ah,” she said, “you have brought me here!  Just now I cannot thank you as I ought.”

“We’ll go on,” he answered quietly.  “I’d like to fire a shot or two before it’s dark, and we’ll need some time to drill the holes.”

Agatha gave him a quick look.  “You are nothing if you’re not practical, but perhaps that’s fortunate.  One trusts practical people when there are things that must be done.”

The sunshine had faded when they reached the bottom of the hill and the hollow was shadowy and cool.  Thirlwell ordered the men to make camp and then went with Agatha to the foot of the cliff.  The creek that flowed past the rock ran clear and low, and he got across by jumping from ledge to ledge.  Then, as he scrambled among the boulders towards a spot he had marked he heard a splash, and looking round saw that Agatha had slipped into the stream.  She waded across, with the water rippling round her long boots, and when she joined him trembled with suspense.

“You needn’t have come over,” he said, smiling as he indicated a band of darker color that seamed the ragged face of the gray stone.  “That’s all there is to see!  Hardly looks as if it was worth your coming so far to find it?  It was a lucky accident the color caught your father’s eye; the vein’s only distinct for a few yards where the frost has brought down the cliff.  I think we’ll find it dips.”

Agatha noted that his tone was very matter-of-fact, although his face was set, and thought she had better follow his lead.

“Then the ore must once have outcropped.  It’s a good example of denudation.”

“Yes; it probably ran out some distance back.  You can see how the creek has cut down the rock, but frost and snow have helped.  One can’t tell yet whether the best or worst has been lost; but to begin with, we’ll look for the discovery post.”