arranged to meet. They had corresponded and he had brought a photograph
he thought she would like to see, but on the whole he would sooner she
had not asked for the interview. She might find it painful to hear the
story he had to tell, and the thing would require some tact, more
perhaps than he had.

In the meantime he wondered what she was like. Her letters indicated a
cultivated mind, and he knew she had a post at a Toronto school; but one
could not expect much from the daughter of the broken-down prospector he
had met in the North. Strange had worked spasmodically at the mine,
where he was employed because labor was scarce. He was not a good
workman, and when he had earned a small sum generally bought provisions
and went off into the bush to re-locate a silver lode he claimed to have
found when he was young. He came back ragged and disappointed, and when
liquor could be got indulged freely before he resumed his work.

Nobody believed his tale; Strange's lode was something of a joke. The
miners called him a crank, and Thirlwell had doubted if he was quite
sane, but he persisted in his search and sometimes Black Steve Driscoll
went North with him. It was suspected that Driscoll made an unlawful
profit by selling the Indians liquor, which perhaps accounted for his
journeys with Strange. As they returned from the last expedition their
canoe capsized in a rapid near the mining camp, and although Driscoll
reached land exhausted, Strange's body was never found. Thirlwell knew
his daughter's address, and sent her news of the accident, which led to
an exchange of letters. Now he would shortly see her, give her the
particulars she wanted, and then their acquaintance would end, although
he liked the hotel and might stay for a few days' fishing.

His pipe went out and he was half asleep when a girl crossed the lawn.