“You can trust his Indian instincts,” Scott replied.  “No doubt he’s greedy, but he hates Stormont, and I imagine he’d sooner punish the fellow than find the silver.”  He paused, and looked thoughtful when he went on:  “The other matter’s difficult; but, like Father Lucien, I don’t see what we can do.  It’s possible that Steve drowned his partner, or anyhow, took advantage of an accident to let him drown; but we’re not detectives, and you can’t move against a man without something besides suspicion to go upon.  Then we were under the cracking beam when he fixed the prop that stopped the roof coming down.”

“I suppose, if he’s guilty, that oughtn’t to count?”

“It’s an awkward question,” Scott replied.  “However, we don’t know if he is guilty, and I don’t see much chance of our finding out.  But there’s something else.  Miss Strange had the shock of hearing about her father’s sudden death, and it would not be kind to harrow her again.”

“Certainly not,” said Thirlwell, who felt annoyed because his comrade had guessed his thoughts.

A week later, Thirlwell was walking down the tunnel when he saw one or two of the men and Driscoll shoring up the roof.  Drummond was helping, but a stone fell on him and he sat down.  There was no light except the flicker of the lamps in the men’s hats and they did not see Thirlwell.

“Are you hurt, kid?” one asked Drummond.

“He’s scared,” Driscoll growled.  “Let him get out; this is a man’s job.”

Drummond sprang to his feet, although Thirlwell noted an ugly bruise on his forehead.

“Talk about being scared!” he cried.  “Why you’re ’most scared to death of the rapid!  What d’you reckon lives there that’s going to get you in the dark?”

Driscoll stepped forward.  His face looked gray, but his mouth was hard and his eyes shone with savage rage.  Thirlwell thought the man’s passion was dangerous, and running up, got in front of him and sent Drummond to the shaft.

“Load up that broken rock,” he said.  “If you leave the job and come back here, I’ll fire you out.”

He was disturbed by the quarrel, because he understood something of Driscoll’s feelings when stung by the taunt.  Then he was curious about Drummond’s object for making it, and wondered how much he knew.  He kept them apart and when they stopped at noon Driscoll came up to him.

“I want to quit when the week’s up,” he said.

“Why?” Thirlwell asked, looking hard at him.

“For one thing, I’ve put up most of the new timbers and guess she’ll hold for a while.  Then I sure don’t like that Metis kid.  Reckon I’ll kill him if I stop.”

“Do what you think best,” said Thirlwell, who saw he must get rid of one and would sooner keep Drummond.  “If you come back later, we may find you a job.”

At the end of the week, Driscoll went off into the bush, and after supper Thirlwell sent for Drummond.  Scott was sitting near him outside the shack when the young man came up.