said. "Alton of Somasco is good enough for me."

"But," said Deringham quietly, "I have come to talk things over with
you. Tristan Alton left you Carnaby."

Alton straightened himself a little and flung out an arm, while
Deringham recognized the Alton pride as with a sweeping gesture he
pointed to wide lake, forest-shrouded hillside, and the clearing in the
valley.

"He turned out my father because he knew his mind, and now when there
is no one else leaves me the played-out property. Thank God, I don't
want it, while that's all mine," he said. "What brings you here to
talk of Carnaby?"

Deringham smiled a little. "The executor sent me, and I have come a
long way," said he. "When I tell you that I am Ralph Deringham you
should know me."

Alton nodded gravely. "Then you can tell me all about it after supper,
and we'll have plenty time for talking, because you'll stay a while
with me," he said. "If you'll go back to the house you'll find some
cigars that might please you in the bureau. Sorry I can't come with
you, but I'm busy. Are you ready, Tom?"

He turned, and swung up the axe while the big bushman swept his blade
aloft, and Deringham watched them curiously. Alton swayed with a
steely suppleness from the waist, and the broad wedge of steel flashed
about his head before it came down ringing. The man had a few inches
of springy wood which bent and heaved beneath him to stand upon, but