Alton laughed, and brushed his fingers across the top of the stove.  “Well, it doesn’t sound quite right, but after all the meaning’s the great thing,” he said.  “This place isn’t warm enough for you, Miss Nellie.”

He turned and walked to the wood-box, and after glancing into it carefully straightened out its covering.  Then he strode towards the door, and stopped a moment before he opened it.  “Excuse!” he said simply.  “No, don’t you worry; I know just where the saw and lantern are, and Charley, who comes from the old country, can talk to you for me.”

He went out in another moment, but the fact that he was very weary did not escape the attention of the girl, who also noticed the absence of any unnecessary questions or explanations.  Alton was, she knew already, one who did things the better because he did them silently.  Still, it was Seaforth whom, when nobody observed her, her eyes rested most upon.

It was half an hour before the former returned with a load of scented firewood upon his back, and, saying nothing, filled the box with it, packing each piece where it best fitted deliberately but swiftly; then he passed through the room into an adjoining one, and returned attired picturesquely in Jack Townshead’s overalls, which were distinctly too small for him.  By this time supper was ready, and Seaforth, also dressed in borrowed garments, seated at the table, but though Miss Townshead had not lost the stamp of refinement she brought with her from England. and her father was dignified and precise, Alton showed no embarrassment.  He also listened patiently to Townshead’s views on ranching and the mining prospects of that region, though he was already looked up to as a master of the former industry, and contrived meanwhile that the girl made a good meal instead of attending to him.  When it was finished he unfolded a carefully wrapped up packet, and took an envelope out of it, though Miss Townshead noticed that several others he laid down were crumpled and wet.

“Here is a letter for you,” he said.

He glanced at the girl questioningly as she took it up, and fingered one of the envelopes upon the table.  “Excuse?” he said.

Nellie Townshead smiled and nodded, and then, knowing that the communication handed her was of no importance, watched him covertly as he tore open a long blue envelope.  There were documents inside it, and the man’s fingers shook a little as he spread out one of them.  Then bewildered astonishment crept into his eyes, and was replaced by a flash of something very like anger, after which his face grew suddenly impassive, and he thrust the documents all together into his pocket.

“Get up, Charley, and bring the tray along,” he said.

Miss Townshead glanced at him sharply.  “What do you wish to do?” she said.

“Wash up,” said Alton simply.  “I don’t know how you fix these things in England, but this is a good Canadian custom.  Stir around, Charley.”