A shadowy form appeared against the gleaming water and stopped.

"What do you want?" Carnally asked. "Are you alone?"

"Something to eat," said the stranger. "There's n.o.body with me."

"One of the Mappin crowd, I guess. Where's the rest of you?"

"I don't know. It's three or four days since I left them."

"Then you can come along. I see you have a gun. If you're wise, you'll keep it at the trail."

"Don't be scared," said the other, advancing, "I'm not looking for trouble."

In a few moments he entered the firelight and stopped at a motion from Carnally--a ragged and very weary man, with a pinched and eager look in his face.

"Now," said Carnally, "what brought you here?"

"I'm starving," the man replied; and Andrew thought his appearance bore it out.

He sat down, with the rifle he had carried across his arm, and Carnally indicated the frying-pan.

"There's a bannock and some pork yonder. It won't take long to warm up, but before you get any, we must have a talk. Why did you leave the rest of Mappin's hobos?"

"We wrecked our canoe in a rapid and lost all the grub. There was some trouble about it, and when the others turned back to make the cache I allowed I'd follow you. Missed your trail once or twice, but I figured on the line you'd take and picked it up again."

Andrew thought the tale was plausible, and a bruise on the man's face seemed to corroborate it, as it hinted at the reason for his leaving his comrades.

"Will they follow us up?" he asked.

"Can't tell," said the stranger. "They'd be mighty hungry when they made the cache. Anyhow, I'd had enough of them."

"Give him some supper," said Andrew.

Graham put on the frying-pan, and in a few minutes the man fell upon the food ravenously. When he had finished he felt for his pipe and ruefully put it back. Andrew laughed and threw him a pouch of cut tobacco.

"You're white," said the stranger with a curious look.

While he lighted his pipe Carnally, leaning quickly forward, picked up his rifle and flung it into the lake.

"Why did you do that?" the fellow asked in anger.

"You'll have something else to carry and one gun's enough for this crowd," Carnally significantly replied.

"Then you don't mean to fire me out?"

"Oh, no! I guess we'll engage you as packer, but I must speak to the boss first," and Carnally led Andrew a short distance back into the shadow.

"Is it wise to take the rascal with us?" Andrew asked.

"It seems the only thing to do. You don't want him to starve?"

"Certainly not; but couldn't we give him a few provisions and let him go?"

"If he had a little grub to go on with, he might catch a trout in the shallows or snare something that he could eat. Then he'd either follow us or join his friends and put them on our track. I prefer to have him under our eye."

"But he'll see where the lode is!"

"Sure! I'll take care he does no prospecting. Three claims on the best of the vein will give you all you want to work, and as soon as your record's filed you'll have prospectors coming up by dozens."

"Well," concluded Andrew, "you must do what you think fit."

They went back to the fire, and Carnally turned to the stranger.

"Your engagement begins to-morrow. If you do your work, you'll get your grub, and nothing else." Then he added: "If that doesn't seem good enough, you can quit when you like."

It was, as both recognized, an impossible alternative, because if the fellow left their service he must starve.

"Call it a deal," he said. "You have got me safe."

"That's so," said Carnally. "You want to remember that the moment you give us any cause for suspicion you get fired. Now what about your partners? How long would it take them to make the cache?"

"Two or three days."

"Then they'd have to come back and find our trail. I reckon we're six days ahead, and that ought to be enough. You have a blanket; you can choose your place and sleep when you like."

The man, who was obviously worn out, gathered some spruce twigs and lay down on them, but the others sat a while beside the fire before they followed his example.

CHAPTER XXVII

ANDREW STAKES HIS CLAIM

Soon after daybreak they launched the canoe, and though she was now rather deeply loaded they made good progress down the outflowing creek. When it was necessary for one to wade and check her with the tracking line, their new companion was allotted the task, and at the portages Carnally took care to give him the heaviest load. Though it was obvious that he had not recovered from his long, forced march, he seemed a good-humored rascal and resigned himself to the situation philosophically.

In the afternoon they came to a rapid and spent some time hauling the canoe round it, and then they went back for the stores. Turner, as the newcomer was called, was first despatched with a load which contained nothing eatable, and Andrew was the last to set off. Dark spruces on the high bank cut off the wind, the sun was very hot, and the perspiration dripped from Andrew as he floundered across the stones.

They were large and uneven, and he had to proceed cautiously to save himself from falling into the hollows between. Graham and Carnally were some distance ahead, but after a while he overtook Turner, who was moving slowly. Shortly before Andrew came up the man dropped the things he carried and turned with signs of distress in his hot face.

"I'm not trying to kick," he said. "Guess you've got a pull on me and I have to work, but I'm a bit played out yet, and your partner piled more weight on me than I can stand."

"Stop and take a smoke," said Andrew, handing him his tobacco pouch.

"I don't feel very fresh, but I could carry those blankets. Let me have them."

"I'll have to do that or leave them. It was a tough march I made with nothing to eat." He filled his pipe before he resumed: "There's no meanness in you."

"Never mind that. What was Mappin to give you for this job?"