gave him a level glance. "I suppose you knew my father well?"

"I knew him in a way," Thirlwell answered cautiously, because he did not
want to talk about Strange's habits. Perhaps the girl knew her father's
weakness, and if not, it was better that she should think well of him.
Yet Thirlwell imagined she understood something of his reserve.

"Ah!" she said, "you knew him in the bush, but not when he lived at home
with us. I should like to tell you his story."

"Not if it is painful."

"It is painful, but I would sooner you heard it," she replied. "For one
thing, you have been kind--" She paused, and when she resumed there was
a faint sparkle in her eyes. "I want you to understand my father. He was
my hero."

Thirlwell made a vague gesture. He had seen Strange, half drunk, reeling
along the trail to the mine, but this did not lessen his sympathy for
the girl. He hoped she had taken his sign to imply that he was willing
to listen.

"To begin with, do you believe in the silver lode?" she asked.

"One disbelieves in nothing up yonder," Thirlwell tactfully replied.
"It's a country of surprises; you don't know what you may find.
Besides, there is some silver--I'm now sinking a shaft--"

Agatha smiled and he saw she had the gift of humor. The smile softened
her firm lips and lighted her eyes.