Reynolds smiled as he thrust the letter into his pocket, The editor called his trip north a “wild-goose chase.”  He little knew that it was a chase of a different kind, and the bird was a fascinating girl.  “I guess I shall have to tell Harmon that the bird I’m after is not a wild goose, but a new species, found solely up here, and with only one known specimen in existence.  But I must write to him, anyway, and tell him something about my doings and the life at Big Draw.”

In an adjoining room men were playing cards.  Reynolds entered and stood watching them, especially Curly, who was deep in a game.  He was evidently losing heavily, and he was in a bad frame of mind.  As Reynolds stood and watched him, he began to wonder when the fellow had first met Glen.  Was it on the trail, or had Curly ventured beyond the Golden Crest?  It pleased him to know that the girl disliked the man, and how she wished that the fog-bank had not lifted just when it did.  He longed to know what was in Curly’s mind.  Would he attempt to meet the girl again?  That he was capable of the basest villainy, he had not the shadow of a doubt.  Frontier Samson had told him as much, and the old prospector apparently knew whereof he spoke.  It was not safe for Glen to travel alone among the hills, he mused.  She was in danger of meeting a worse brute than the raging grizzly she had encountered that afternoon.

As Reynolds thought of these things he kept his eyes fixed intently upon Curly’s face, not realising that he was staring so hard.  But Curly did, and glancing up several times from his cards, he met those steady, inscrutable eyes.  At first it annoyed him, making him nervous and impatient.  He wondered what the quiet, reserved fellow meant by looking at him in such a manner.  At length he became angry, and noticing that the eyes never left his face, he leaped to his feet with a savage oath, and moving over to where Reynolds was standing, demanded of him an explanation.

Brought suddenly to earth, Reynolds started, and asked what was the trouble.

“Trouble!” Curly roared.  “You’ll d——­ soon find out if you don’t mind your own business.”

“Why, I have been doing nothing,” and Reynolds looked his surprise.  “I was merely watching the game.”

“No, you weren’t.  You were watching me like a cat watches a mouse, and I want to know what you mean.”

Reynolds laughed.

“I didn’t realise I was watching you,” he explained.  “My mind was elsewhere.  I was thinking of more important things.  You seem to be looking for trouble.”

“I am, and you’re the trouble, d——­ you.  You’ve made me lose my game.”

“H’m, you needn’t accuse me.  It must be your own conscience.  I am not looking for a quarrel, even if you are.  I shall leave at once if my presence is so objectionable to you.  I’m rather fond of my own company.”

“Coward!”

Reynolds had partly turned as this word smote him like a knife.  He wheeled in an instant and faced Curly.