"Thank you, sir," she said. "There's not many men wad carry four bushel up a bank like that."

Vane laughed.

"I'm used to it. Now I think that we can face the hill."

He seized the rein, and after a flounder or two the pony started the load and struggled up the ascent. Leaving the woman at the top, voluble with thanks, Vane came down and sauntered on again with Mabel.

"I made sure you would drop that bag until I saw how you got hold of it, and then I knew you would manage," she informed him. "You see, I've watched the men at Scarside mill. I didn't want you to drop it."

"I wonder why?" laughed Vane.

"If you do, you must be stupid. We're friends, aren't we? I like my friends to be able to do anything that other folks can. That's partly why I took to you."

Vane made her a ceremonious bow and they went on, chatting lightly. When they came to a sweep of climbing moor, they changed companions, for Mabel led Carroll off in search of plants and ferns. Farther on, Evelyn sat down upon a heathy bank, and Vane found a place on a stone beside a trickling rill.

"It's pleasant here, and I like the sun," she explained. "Besides, it's still a good way to the top, and I generally feel discontented when I get there. There are other peaks much higher--one wants to go on."

Vane smiled in comprehension.

"Yes," he agreed. "On and always on! It's the feeling that drives the prospector. We seem to have the same thoughts on a good many points."

Evelyn did not answer this.

"I was glad you got that cart up the hill. What made you think of it?"

"The pony was played out, though it was a plucky beast. I suppose I felt sorry for it. I've been driven hard myself."

The girl's eyes softened. She had seen him use his strength, though it was, she imagined, the strength of determined will and disciplined body rather than bulk of muscle, for the man was hard and lean. The strength also was a.s.sociated with a gentleness and a sympathy with the lower creation that appealed to her.

"How hard were you driven?" she asked.

"Sometimes, until I could scarcely crawl back to my tent or the sleeping-shack at night. Out yonder, construction bosses and contractors'

foremen are skilled in getting the utmost value of every dollar out of a man. I've had my hands worn to raw wounds and half my knuckles bruised until it was almost impossible to bend them."

"Were you compelled to work like that?"

"I thought so. It seemed to be the custom of the country; one had to get used to it."

Evelyn hesitated a moment; though she was interested.

"But was there nothing easier? Had you no money?"

"Very little, as a rule; and what I had I tried to keep. It was to give me a start in life. It was hard to resist the temptation to use some of it now and then, but I held out." He laughed grimly. "After all, I suppose it was excellent discipline."

The girl made a sign of comprehending sympathy. There was a romance in the man's career which had its effect on her, and she could recognize the strength of will which had held him to the laborious tasks he might have shirked while the money lasted. Then a stain on the sleeve of his jacket caught her eye.

"You have hurt your hand!" she exclaimed.

Vane glanced down at his hand, which was reddened all over.

"It looks like it; those slates must have cut it."

"Hadn't you better wash it and tie it up? It seems a nasty cut."

He dipped his hand into the rill, and was fumbling awkwardly with his handkerchief when she stopped him.

"That won't do! Let me fix it for you."

Rolling up her own handkerchief, she wet it and laid it on his palm, across which a red gash ran. He had moved close to her, stooping down, and a disturbing thrill ran through him as she held his hand. Once more, however, he was troubled by a sense of compunction as he recalled his interview with Chisholm.

"Thank you," he said abruptly when she finished.

There were signs of tension in his face, and she drew a little away from him when he sat down again. For a few moments he struggled with himself.

They were alone; he had her father's consent; and he knew that what he had done half an hour ago had appealed to her. But he felt that he could not plead his cause just then. With her parents on his side, she was at a disadvantage; and he shrank from the thought that she might be forced upon him against her will. This was not what he desired; and she might hate him for it afterward. She was very alluring, there had been signs of an unusual gentleness in her manner, and the light touch of her cool fingers had stirred his blood; but he wanted time to win her favor, aided only by such gifts as he had been endowed with. It cost him a determined effort, but he made up his mind to wait; and it was a relief to him when the approach of Mabel and Carroll rendered any confidential conversation out of the question.

CHAPTER X

WITH THE OTTER HOUNDS

A week or two had slipped away since Vane cut his hand. He lounged one morning upon the terrace, chatting with Carroll. It was a heavy, black morning; the hills were hidden by wrappings of leaden mist, and the still air was charged with moisture.

Suddenly a long, faint howl came up the valley and was answered by another in a deeper note. Then a confused swelling clamor broke out, softened by the distance, and slightly resembling the sound of chiming bells. Carroll stopped and listened.

"What in the name of wonder is that?" he asked. "The first of it reminded me of a coyote howling, but the rest's more like the noise the timber wolves make in the bush at night."

"You haven't made a bad shot," Vane laughed. "It's a pack of otter hounds hot upon the scent."

The sound ceased as suddenly as it had begun; and a few moments later Mabel came running toward the men.

"I knew the hounds met at Patten Brig, but Jim was sure they'd go down-stream!" she cried breathlessly. "They're coming up! I think they're at the pool below the village! Get two poles--you'll find some in the tool-shed--and come along at once!"

She climbed into the house through a window, calling for Evelyn, and Carroll smiled.

"We have our orders. I suppose we'd better go."

"It's one of the popular sports up here," Vane replied. "You may as well see it."

They set out a few minutes later, accompanied by Evelyn, while Mabel hurried on in front and reproached them for their tardiness. Sometimes they heard the hounds, sometimes a hoa.r.s.e shouting that traveled far through the still air, and then sometimes there was only the tremulous song of running water. At length, after crossing several wet fields, they came to a rushy meadow on the edge of the river, which spread out into a wide pool, fringed with alders which had not yet lost their leaves and the barer withes of osiers. There was a swift stream at the head of it, and a long rippling shallow at the tail; and scattered along the bank and in the water was a curiously mixed company.

A red-coated man with whip and horn stood in the tail outflow, and three or four more with poles in their hands were spread out across the stream behind him. These, and one or two in the head stream, appeared by their dress to belong to the hunt; but the rest, among whom were a few women, were attired in every-day garments and were of different walks in life: artisans, laborers, people of leisure, and a late tourist or two.

Three or four big hounds were swimming aimlessly up and down the pool; a dozen more trotted to and fro along the water's edge, stopping to sniff and give tongue in an uncertain manner now and then; but there was no sign of an otter.

Carroll looked round with a smile when his companions stopped.