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Updated: June 1, 2025
Agatha tried to brace herself. The disappointment was hard to bear, and for a few moments she engaged in a bitter struggle. If she took the post and went to Europe, she could not go North for a year, and Thirlwell might not be able to help her then. She knew that she had counted on his help, and that without it she could not penetrate far into the wilds.
That was all, for the landscape was blurred to the north, where a vague gray line hinted at another range. "The haze is tantalizing," she remarked by and by. "One could not see when we got here and I have been waiting for the dawn." "I hoped you slept. We made a long march yesterday." "Did you sleep?" "No," said Thirlwell. "Anyhow, not very much." Agatha smiled.
Prospecting a big belt of country is a long job, and if you're away much of the summer, how are you going to keep your engagement with me?" "I have thought of it," Thirlwell replied. "It's awkward " Scott smiled at his embarrassment. "Well, I'll let you go. In fact, I don't mind taking a stake in the expedition, in the way of food and tools." "Miss Strange wouldn't agree." "Very well.
If he let the craft fall off too far, the sail would swing across and she might be capsized by the shock; if he let her swerve to windward, the following wave would break on board and she would be swamped. Thirlwell looked highly strung but very cool. A mistake would have disastrous consequences; if he gave way to the strain for a moment, the canoe would sink.
The fellow's caution had given way; mocked and cheated by the lad he meant to use, he had suddenly become primitive in his disappointed greed and rage. It looked as if Drummond did not know his danger; but as Thirlwell ran forward Stormont lifted the stone and the lad leaped upon him like a wild cat. Thirlwell stopped.
"Jim," said Allott reproachfully, "you're talking like your father, and while airing one's views may be harmless, trying to live up to them doesn't always pay. Taking that line cost him much; I thought you wiser." Thirlwell colored. "My father was an honest man. If I can live as he did, I shall be satisfied."
He went away and Thirlwell, after sitting still for some minutes with a frown, got up and moodily followed the trail to the river bank. Scott had shown him that his friendship with Agatha could not continue on the lines it ran on now. In a way, he had for some time recognized this, but it was not until he found the tobacco-box the truth became overwhelmingly plain.
Thirlwell did not doubt that Stormont knew he was the leader of Agatha's party and she could do nothing without his help. If Driscoll had been with his former confederate, one could have understood the thing. Black Steve had an Indian's cunning and the instincts of a savage animal, but he was dead and Stormont was a rascal of another kind. Steve's primitive methods would not appeal to him.
Had his mood been normal the heat and noise would not have disturbed Thirlwell, but now they jarred. His visit had been a failure, and his employers must develop the mine without the help of the latest machines. He doubted if they could finance the undertaking until they struck the vein. Then it looked as if he had been rash to reject Sir James's offer.
Wreaths of aromatic smoke slowly drifted past and faded in the mist. "One feels spring coming," said Father Lucien. "We have had a foretaste to cheer us while winter lasts. The sun is moving north, and up here, it always thrills me to watch the light drive back the dark. One could make a homily on that." "The dark soon returns," Thirlwell remarked, "I hate the long nights."
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