Two craft drew out of the shadow of the pines, slid down the swift current, and presently grounded on a gravel beach.  They were of the canoe type, but larger, and their bottoms were flat, since they were rather built for carrying goods than paddling fast.  There was a good water route to the rocky height of land, across which the cargo was brought on the freighters’ backs from a river that joined the wagon trail to the settlements.  As soon as they landed, the crews began to carry up boxes and packages, but a young man left the group and came towards the shack.  He wore neat store-clothes that were not much the worse for the journey, and although his skin was somewhat dark, looked like a young business man from the cities.

“Which of you is Mr. Thirlwell?” he asked.

“I am,” said Thirlwell.  “Who are you?”

“Ian Drummond; the boys call me Jake.  A son of Hector Drummond’s of Longue Sault factory.”

“Ah,” said Scott, “this gets interesting!  Did Hector Drummond send you?”

“No; he died nine years since.”

Scott gave Thirlwell a meaning look, and turned to the young man.

“Then what do you want?”

“To begin with, I want a job.”

“A job?” said Scott with some surprise.  “What can you do?”

“I know nothing about mining, but I’m pretty strong,” Drummond answered, giving Scott a deerskin bag.  “Anyhow, Mr. Thirlwell had better read his letter before you hire me.  Antoine, the patron, brought up your mail.”

“Very well,” said Scott.  “The cook will give the boys supper soon and you had better go along.  Come back afterwards.”

When the lad had gone, Thirlwell felt pleasantly excited as he opened a letter Scott took out of the bag, for he saw it was from Agatha.  She told him that Drummond had met her in Toronto and related how Stormont had victimized him.  The young man stated that he wanted to see the North and would like to get work where he could watch for the prospecting party he thought Stormont would send up.

“I warned him that you may not be able to give him employment, but he is keen about going and willing to take the risk,” she said.  “We can, I think, trust him to some extent, and perhaps he knows enough about my father’s journey to be useful; but I cannot tell if it would be prudent to offer him a reward.  I am glad to feel I can leave this to you, and will, of course, agree to the line you think it proper to take.”

Thirlwell read part of the letter to Scott, who said, “Miss Strange seems to have a flattering confidence in your judgment.  Do you want me to hire the fellow?”

“I don’t know yet.  I wouldn’t ask you to engage him unless he could be of use.”

“You needn’t hesitate on that ground, since we’re two men short,” Scott answered, smiling.  “Well, suppose we wait until we have talked to him.  I guess you know this silver-lode is getting hold of me.”