Half the day had slipped by. The breeze freshened further and the sun broke through. The sloop was then rolling wildly as she drove along with the peak of her mainsail lowered down before a big following sea. The combers came up behind her, foaming and glistening blue and green, with seamy white streaks on their hollow breasts, and broke about her with a roar. Then they surged ahead while she sank down into the hollow with sluicing deck and tilted stern. Vane's face was intent as he gripped the helm; three or four miles away a head ran out from the beach he was following, and he would have to haul the boat up to windward to get around it. This would bring the combers upon her quarter, or, worse still, abeam. Kitty Blake was below; and Mrs. Marvin had made no appearance yet. Vane looked at Carroll, who was standing in the well.

"The sea's breaking more sharply, and we'd get uncommonly wet before we hammered round yonder head. There's an inlet on this side of it where we ought to find good shelter."

"The trouble is that if you stay there long you'll be too late for the directors' meeting. Besides, I'm under the impression that I've seen you run an open sea-canoe before as hard a breeze as this."

"They can't have the meeting without me, and if it's necessary they can wait," Vane answered impatiently. "I've had to. Many an hour I've spent cooling my heels in corridors and outer offices before the head of the concern could find time to attend to me. No doubt it was part of the game, done to impress me with a due sense of my unimportance."

"It's possible," Carroll laughed.

"Besides, you can drive one of those big Siwash craft as hard as you can this sloop; that is, so long as you keep the sea astern of her."

"Yes; I dare say you can. After all, you hadn't any passengers on the occasion I was referring to. I suppose you feel you have to consider them?"

Vane colored slightly.

"Naturally, I'd prefer not to land Mrs. Marvin and the child in a helpless condition; and I understand they're feeling the motion pretty badly."

Kitty Blake made her appearance in the cabin entrance, and Vane smiled at her.

"We're going to give you a rest," he announced. "There's an inlet close ahead where we should find smooth water, and we'll put you all ashore for a few hours until the wind drops."

There was no suspicion in the girl's face now. She gave him a grateful glance before she disappeared below with the consoling news.

A quarter of an hour later Vane closed with the beach, and a break in the hillside, which was dotted with wind-stunted pines, opened up. While the two men struggled with the mainsheet, the big boom and the sail above it lurched madly over. The sloop rolled down until half her deck on one side was in the sea, but she hove herself up again and shot forward, wet and gleaming, into a space of smooth green water behind a head. Soon afterward, Vane luffed into a tiny bay, where she rode upright in the sunshine, with loose canvas flapping softly in a faint breeze while the cable rattled down. They got the canoe over, and when they had helped Mrs. Marvin and her little girl, both of whom looked very wobegone and the worse for the voyage, into her, Vane glanced around.

"Isn't Miss Blake coming?" he asked.

"She's changing her dress," explained Mrs. Marvin, with a smile. She glanced at her own crumpled attire as she added: "I'm past thinking of such things as that!"

They waited some minutes, and then Kitty appeared in the entrance to the cabin. Vane called to her.

"Won't you look in the locker, and bring along anything you think would be nice? We'll make a fire and have supper on the beach—if it isn't first-rate, you'll be responsible!"

A few minutes later they paddled ashore, and Vane landed them on a strip of shingle. Beyond it a wall of rock arose, with dark firs clinging in the rifts and crannies. The sunshine streamed into the hollow; the wind was cut off; and not far away a crystal stream came splashing down a ravine.

"There's a creek at the top of the inlet," Vane told them, as he and Carroll thrust out the canoe, "and we're going to look for a trout. You can stroll about or rest in the sun for a couple of hours, and if the wind drops after supper we'll make a start again."

They paddled away, with a fishing-rod and a gun in the canoe, and it was toward six o'clock in the evening when they came back with a few trout. Vane made a fire of resinous wood, and Carroll and Kitty prepared a bountiful supper. When it was finished, Carroll carried the plates away to the stream; Mrs. Marvin and the little girl followed him; and Vane and Kitty were left beside the fire. She sat on a log of driftwood, and he lay on the warm shingle with his pipe in his hand. The clear green water splashed and tinkled upon the pebbles close at his feet, and a faint, elfin sighing fell from the firs above them. It was very old music: the song of the primeval wilderness; and though he had heard it often, it had a strange, unsettling effect on him as he languidly watched his companion. There was no doubt that she was pleasant to look upon; but, although he did not clearly recognize this, it was to a large extent an impersonal interest that he took in her. She was not so much an attractive young woman with qualities that pleased him as a type of something that had so far not come into his life; something which he vaguely felt that he had missed. One could have fancied that by some deep-sunk intuition she recognized this fact, and felt the security of it.

"So you believe you can get an engagement if you reach Vancouver in time?" he asked at length.

"Yes."

"How long will it last?"

"I can't tell. Perhaps a week or two. It depends upon how the boys are pleased with the show."

Vane frowned. He felt very compassionate toward her and toward all friendless women compelled to wander here and there, as she was forced to do. It seemed intolerable that she should depend for daily bread upon the manner in which a crowd of rude miners and choppers received her song; though there was, as he knew, a vein of primitive chivalry in most of them.

"Suppose it only lasts a fortnight, what will you do then?"

"I don't know," said Kitty simply.

"It must be a hard life," Vane broke out. "You must make very little—scarcely enough, I suppose, to carry you on from one engagement to another. After all, weren't you as well off at the restaurant? Didn't they treat you properly?"

She colored a little at the question.

"Oh, yes. At least, I had no fault to find with the man who kept it or with his wife."

Vane made a hasty sign of comprehension. He supposed that the difficulty had arisen from the conduct of one or more of the regular customers. He felt that he would very much like to meet the man whose undesired attentions had driven his companion from her occupation.

"Did you never try to learn keeping accounts or typewriting?" he asked.

"I tried it once. I could manage the figures, but the mill shut down."

Vane made his next suggestion casually, though he was troubled by an inward diffidence.

"I've an idea that I could find you a post. It looks as if I'm going to be a person of some little influence in the future, which"—he laughed—"is a very new thing to me."

He saw a tinge of warmer color creep into the girl's cheeks. She had, as he had already noticed a beautifully clear skin.

"No," she said decidedly; "it wouldn't do."

Vane knit his brows, though he fancied that she was right.

"Well," he replied, "I don't want to be officious—but how can I help?"

"You can't help at all."

Vane saw that she meant it, and he broke out with quick impatience:

"I've spent nine years in this country, in the hardest kind of work; but all the while I fancied that money meant power, that if I ever got enough of it I could do what I liked! Now I find that I can't do the first simple thing that would please me! What a cramped, hide-bound world it is!"

Kitty smiled in a curious manner.

"Yes; it's a very cramped world to some of us; but complaining won't do any good," She paused with a faint sigh. "Don't spoil this evening. You and Mr. Carroll have been very kind. It's so quiet and calm here—though it was pleasant on board the yacht—and soon we'll have to go to work again."

Vane once more was stirred by a sense of pity which almost drove him to rash and impulsive speech; but her manner restrained him.

"Then you must be fond of the sea," he suggested.

"I love it! I was born beside it—where the big, green hills drop to the head of the water and you can hear the Atlantic rumble on the rocks all night long."

"Ah!" exclaimed Vane; "don't you long for another sight of it now and then?"

The girl smiled in a way that troubled him.

"I'm wearying for it always; and some day, perhaps, I'll win back for another glimpse at the old place."

"You wouldn't go to stay?"

"That would be impossible! What would I do yonder, after this other life?
Once you leave the old land, you can never quite get back again."

Vane lay smoking in silence for a minute or two. On another occasion he had felt the thrill of the exile's longing that spoke through the girl's song, and now he recognized the truth of what she said. One changed in the West, acquiring a new outlook which diverged more and more from that held by those at home. Only a wistful tenderness for the motherland remained. Still, alien in thought and feeling as he had become, he was going back there for a time; and she, as she had said, must resume her work. A feeling of anger at his impotence to alter this came upon him.

Then Carroll came up with Mrs. Marvin and Elsie, and he felt strongly stirred when the little girl walked up to him shyly with a basket filled with shells and bright fir-cones. He drew her down beside him with an arm about her waist while he examined her treasures. Glancing up he met Kitty's eyes and felt his face grow hot with an emotion he failed to analyze. The little mite was frail and delicate; life, he surmised, had scanty pleasure to offer her; but now she was happy.

"They're so pretty, and there are such lots of them!" she exclaimed.
"Can't we stay here just a little longer and gather some more?"

"Yes," answered Vane, conscious that Carroll, who had heard the question, was watching him. "You shall stay and get as many as you want. I'm afraid you don't like the sloop."

"No; I don't like it when it jumps. After I woke up, it jumped all the time."

"Never mind, little girl. The boat will keep still to-night, and I don't think there'll be any waves to roll her about to-morrow. We'll have you ashore the first thing in the morning."

He talked to her for a few minutes, and then strolled along the beach with Carroll until they could look out upon the Pacific. The breeze was falling, though the sea still ran high.

"Why did you promise that child to stay here?" Carroll asked.

"Because I felt like doing so."

"I needn't remind you that you've an appointment with Horsfield about the smelter; and there's a meeting of the board next day. If we started now and caught the first steamer across, you wouldn't have much time to spare."

"That's correct. I shall have to wire from Victoria that I've been detained."

Carroll laughed expressively.

"Do you mean to put off the meeting and keep your directors waiting, to please a child?"

"I suppose that's one reason. Anyway, I don't propose to hustle the little girl and her mother on board the steamer while they're helpless with seasickness." A gleam of humor crept into his eyes. "As I think I told you, I've no great objections to letting the gentlemen you mentioned await my pleasure."

"But they found you the shareholders, and set the concern on its feet."

"Just so. On the other hand, they got excellent value for their services—and I found the mine. What's more, during the preliminary negotiations most of them treated me very casually."

"Well?"

"There's going to be a difference now. I've a board of directors—one way or another, I've had to pay for the privilege pretty dearly; but it's not my intention that they should run the Clermont Mine."

Carroll glanced at him with open amusement. There had been a marked change in Vane since he had located the mine, though it was one that did not astonish his comrade. Carroll had long suspected him of latent capabilities, which had suddenly sprung to life.

"You ought to see Horsfield before you meet the board," he advised him.

"I'm not sure," Vane answered. "In fact, I'm uncertain whether I'll give Horsfield the contract, even if we decide about the smelter. He was offensively patronizing once upon a time and tried to bluff me. Besides, he has already a stake in the concern. I don't want a man with too firm a hold-up against me."

"But if he put his money in partly with the idea of getting certain pickings?"

"He didn't explain his intentions; and I made no promises. He'll get his dividends, or he can sell his stock at a premium, and that ought to satisfy him."

"If you submitted the whole case to a business man, he'd probably tell you that you were going to make a hash of things."

"That's your own idea?"

Carroll grinned.

"Oh, I'll reserve my opinion. It's possible you may be right. Time will show."

They rejoined the others, and when the white mists crept lower down from the heights above and the chill of the dew was in the air, Vane launched the canoe.

"It's getting late and there's a long run in front of us to-morrow," he informed his passengers. "The sloop will lie as still as if moored in a pond; and you'll have her all to yourselves. Carroll and I are going to camp ashore."

He paddled them off to the boat. Coming back with some blankets, he cut a few armfuls of spruce twigs in a ravine and spread them out beside the fire. Then sitting down just clear of the scented smoke he lighted his pipe and asked an abrupt question.

"What do you think of Kitty Blake?"

"She's attractive, in person and manners."

"Anybody could see that at a glance!"

"Well," Carroll added cautiously, "I must confess that I've taken some interest in the girl—partly because you were obviously doing so. In a general way, what I noticed rather surprised me. It wasn't what I expected."

"You smart folks are as often wrong as the rest of us. I suppose you looked for cold-blooded assurance, tempered by what one might call experienced coquetry?"

"Something of the kind," Carroll agreed. "As you say, I was wrong. There are only two ways of explaining Miss Blake, and the first's the one that would strike most people. That is, she's acting a part, possibly with an object; holding her natural self in check, and doing it cleverly."

Vane laughed scornfully.

"I've lived in the woods for nine years, but I wouldn't have entertained that idea for five seconds!"

"Then, there's the other explanation. It's simply that the girl's life hasn't affected her. Somehow, she has kept fresh and wholesome. I think that's the correct view."

"There's no doubt of it!" declared Vane.

"You offered to help her in some way?"

"I did; I don't know how you guessed it. I said I'd find her a situation.
She wouldn't hear of it."

"She was wise. Vancouver isn't a very big place yet, and the girl has more sense than you have. What did you say?"

"I'm afraid I lost my temper because there was nothing I could do."

Carroll grinned.

"There are limitations—even to the power of the dollar. You'll probably run up against more of them later on."

"I suppose so," yawned Vane. "Well, I'm going to sleep."

He rolled himself up in his blanket and lay down among the soft spruce twigs, but Carroll sat still in the darkness and smoked out his pipe. Then he glanced at his comrade, who lay still, breathing evenly.

"No doubt you'd be considered fortunate," he said, apostrophizing him half aloud. "You've had power and responsibility thrust upon you. What will you make of it?"

Then he, too, lay down, and only the soft splash of the tiny ripples broke the silence while the fire sank lower.

They sailed the next morning, and when they arrived in Victoria the boat which crossed the straits had gone, but the breeze was fair from the westward, and, after despatching a telegram, Vane sailed again. The sloop made a quick passage, and most of the time her passengers lounged in the sunshine on her gently slanted deck. It was evening when they ran through the Narrows into Vancouver's land-locked harbor and saw the roofs of the city rise tier on tier from the water-front. Somber forest crept down to the skirts of it, and across the glistening water black hills ran up into the evening sky, with the blink of towering snow to the north of them.

Half an hour later Vane landed his passengers, and it was not until he had left them that they discovered he had thrust a roll of paper currency into the little girl's hand. Then he and Carroll set off for the C.P.R. hotel, although they were not accustomed to a hostelry of that sort.