“I wouldn’t like to say at present.  That remains to be seen.”

“Is this Jim Weston a desperate character?”

“The ones who have tried to fool with him say he is, an’ I guess they ought to know.  He’s a holy terror when he gits goin’, ’specially when anyone’s after that lass of his.”

“The men up here all know about her, I suppose?”

“Should say so.  They’re about crazy over her.  She’s been the cause of many a row, an’ several shootin’ rackets.”

“Does she favor anyone?”

“Not as fer as I know.  She’s in a class all by her lonesome, an’ well able to take care of herself.  She’s not anxious fer lovers, so I understand, at least, not the brand ye find up here.  She’s some lass, all right, an’ whoever succeeds in winnin’ her’ll be a mighty lucky chap.”

“What does her father do?  Is he a miner?”

“It’s jist hard to tell what Jim Weston does an’ what he doesn’t do.  No one seems to know fer sartin.  He lives like a lord on Big Lake, way over yonder,” and Samson motioned to the east.  “All the folks know that he lives thar with his lass, guarded by a hull pack of Injuns.  But what he does an’ what he doesn’t do is a mighty problem.”

“His daughter travels, though, and alone at that, doesn’t she?” Reynolds queried.

“Occasionally.  Jim’s givin’ her an eddication, so I hear.  She must be comin’ back now, as this is vacation time.”

“But what happened to her, do you suppose, after the dance that night?” Reynolds asked.  “She disappeared as if by magic, and I believe the big Indian had something to do with it.”

“How d’ye know she disappeared?” was the sudden and somewhat embarrassing question.

Reynolds laughed, and his face flushed.  He knew that he had betrayed himself, and that the prospector noted his confusion.

“Oh, I didn’t notice her in town,” he explained, “and I saw by the register that she had left the hotel.”

“So you’re interested in her, too, are ye, young man?”

“I certainly am,” was the candid confession.  “From the moment that I first saw her at a street crossing in Vancouver she has been hardly out of my mind.  I never saw any girl who affected me so much, and she is the reason why I am here now.”

“Ye don’t tell!” Samson tapped the ashes out of his pipe, and then stretched himself full length upon the ground.  “Make a clean breast of it, young man,” he encouraged.  “I’m an old hardened chap meself, but I do like to hear a real interestin’ heart-story once in a while.  I git sick an’ disgusted listenin’ to brutes on two legs, callin’ themselves men when they talk about women.  But when it comes to a clean young feller, sich as I take you to be, tellin’ of his heart-stroke, then it’s different, an’ I’m allus pleased to listen.”

And make a clean breast of it Reynolds did.  He was surprised at himself for talking so freely as he told about his indifference to life until he first saw Glen Weston.  It was easy to talk there in the silence of the great forest, with the shadows of evening closing around and such a sympathetic listener nearby.  He felt better when his story was ended, for he had shared his heart feeling with one worthy of his confidence, so he believed.