Dad Seddon was delighted with the part Nance had taken in the drama which had just been enacted. His eyes beamed with admiration, and the somewhat surly expression vanished entirely from his face.

"By the horns of a moose!" he exclaimed, turning toward the young woman, "I did feel mighty sore that first night ye beat me at chess. It was a great come-down, so I thought, to be licked by a woman. But I fergive ye now, fer ye've done a deed this mornin' which makes us all proud of ye."

"How would you like another game?" Nance laughingly replied. "We haven't had one for some time."

"What! this mornin'?"

"Certainly. Right away."

"It's a go. I'm there every time. Bring on the weapons of war, an' we'll have a royal battle."

Tom and the rest smiled good naturedly at the old prospector's enthusiasm. They stayed for a while watching the two facing each other across the little deal table. Then, after a few words with Pete, they swung away from the cabin toward the river.

"We've important business over yon," Tom had explained. "We may be needed there jist at present."

All through the day Martin's mind was much concerned about the incident of the morning. He tried to reason out why The Twins should wish to take possession of his property when there was so much unclaimed land lying all around on that side of the river. He thought of the gold buried behind the house, and wondered if in any way the secret had become known. But who was there to tell the white men? he asked himself. Nance had not done so, he was quite sure of that. Then the Indians suddenly flashed into his mind. Perhaps they had been questioned as to the old diggings up the Quaska. The natives, no doubt, well remembered how he had dug there years ago. He at once thought of Taku. This Indian had been down the river among the miners at the time of the great stampede, and he might have told them something.

Acting upon the impulse of the moment, he seized his hat and hurried over to the Indian encampment, straight toward Taku's house. He found the native and his wife at work upon the fish they had recently taken from the lake.

"Doing a good business, Taku, eh?" Martin asked, sitting down upon a stone nearby.

"Ah, ah," was the reply.

"White men take all you catch, eh?"

"Ah, ah."

"Did the white men pay you well for your trip down the Heena this spring?" Martin further questioned.

"Ah, ah. Good. Tobac, tea, gun, coat."

"You were there when they got back from the Quaska?"

"Ah, ah. Beeg tam."

"What did they say about the gold, Taku?"

The native paused at his work, and mused for a while.

"Talk moche," he at length slowly replied. "No savvey beeg hole."

"What hole?"

"Up Quaska."

"They asked you, did they? You told them?"

"Ah, ah."

"That I made the holes?"

"Ah, ah."

"And did you tell them where I put the gold?"

"Ah, ah. Me tell two," and the Indian held up the fore and middle fingers of his left hand.

"Oh, I see!" Martin responded, more to himself than to the native.

He now comprehended everything, and how The Twins had learned about the hidden treasure. But how could he blame Taku? The Indian had not been told to keep the matter a secret. In fact, it had been of little importance to him then, as at that time he had no idea of the value of the gold the white man had unearthed.

Leaving the encampment, Martin walked slowly back to his own house. He now understood the purpose of the two men who had staked their claims upon his land. It was the gold they wanted and nothing else. He was surprised, too, for he had often heard of the code of honour among miners and prospectors. Gold was seldom meddled with, and cabins were always left unlocked. A sneak-thief was looked upon with contempt, and considered the very essence of abomination.

Martin stayed close around the house all day. He discussed with Nance what he had learned from Taku.

"I do not feel safe, little one," he said. "Our house will be watched day and night."

"Never fear, daddy," Nance replied. "Those two men will hardly venture back again. Most likely when the other miners hear of it they will drive them out of the place."

It was only when Dick came over in the evening that they first learned what had happened in the mining town. The young man was much animated this evening, and told in an amusing way the whole story.

"Tom is really a brick," he declared. "I knew that he was all gold, as the miners say, but it takes something out of the ordinary to stir him up. Then when he is once aroused it will be well for his opponents to be on their guard."

"What has he been doing now?" Nance queried, unable to restrain her eagerness to hear about what had taken place over the river.

"Well, as soon as we had left here this morning Tom got busy, and gathered most of the men together, and told them in his own quaint way about what had happened to The Twins."

"Were they present?" Martin asked.

"Indeed they were not. They kept pretty close to themselves all through the day, and didn't show their mean faces in public once. Tom was the orator, and the impression that he left upon his hearers was wonderful. He told in a most graphic manner how The Twins had pulled up the stakes at the point of a rifle, and how back of the rifle was a woman. You should have heard the miners laugh and jeer. Some were for stringing The Twins up to the nearest tree; while others wished to drive them out of the place at once. But Tom thought it best for all to agree to ask The Twins whenever they met them about the claims they had staked, and when they intended to begin work upon them. He suggested that they might mention as well about the beautiful moonlight nights, what shy creatures women are, and so on. He certainly did set it off in glowing colours, and the men were wildly excited over the idea. They agreed that it would be greater fun for themselves, and a severer punishment for the two rascals than driving them away from Quaska."

"But will it be safe, do you think?" Nance asked. "The Twins might be so angry that they might do some harm."

"Where are their revolvers?" and Dick's eyes twinkled.

"Oh, they are safe," Martin laughed.

"No; they won't shoot," Dick continued; "they are too cowardly for that. They are not only cowards but idiots as well to do what they did last night. Now, if some men had been in their place I doubt whether you would have got off as easily as you did. They would have done some mischief. But The Twins were too much afraid of their skins after you got the rifle levelled upon them."

"Where did they stay while the meeting was going on?" Nance asked.

"In their own tents. They must have known that something was astir, and that it was better for them to keep close."

"And they didn't venture out for the rest of the day?"

"No; stuck close at home. When the meeting was over several of the miners strolled by their tent and made some pretty pointed remarks, which The Twins must have heard and understood. It is evident that they can't stay hidden all the time, and they will certainly receive a bombardment when they do come out."

"Has Tom gone back up river?" Martin asked.

"Yes; on special business."

"Special business? Of what nature?"

"It concerns the building of a hospital. It will mean quite a cost in money and labour, and Tom and I have had several long serious talks over it of late. Before the miners dispersed this morning Tom sprang a surprise upon them as well as upon me. He told in a few plain words how very necessary it is that there should be a hospital built at Quaska for the sick and injured men. He referred to what you have been doing over here, and at that the miners gave a rousing cheer. I wish you could have heard them, it would have done you good. All agreed that Tom's suggestion was an excellent one, and they at once volunteered to help with the hospital as much as they could."

Dick did not tell Martin and Nance of the little speech he had made, in which he had promised to give his services free, and how a nurse was expected on one of the incoming steamers. All this appealed strongly to the miners, and they had expressed their approval in no uncertain manner.

Martin listened to all that Dick had to say about the hospital which was to be built, and his plans for the future. He noted the animated look upon the young man's face, and the old longing came back into his own heart to be up and doing at a similar undertaking. The missionary had much to live for, and the love which he had for his work was great. But what was there for him to do? he asked himself. Always a voice whispered in his ear, "Thou shalt not!" There was a barrier which separated him from that field of sacred work to which he had pledged himself years before.

As the days passed this longing instead of subsiding increased. The fire of anger and rebellion, which for years had burned so fiercely in Martin's heart, died down. No longer did he look upon the Church as his great enemy, and all clergymen as bound menials. He saw things in a different light, and realised as never before that the beam was in his own eyes which had distorted his vision. In the past he had the spirit of pride and anger to sustain him. These were the crutches upon which he had depended. Though wounded, he had held up his head and stood upon his feet. The Church then was the overbearing monster, and there was a certain grim satisfaction in the thought that he had cast it off forever, and that it could affect him no longer. But now that these props had been removed, upon what could he depend? If at times during the past years of his exile he had suffered, it was as nothing to what he now endured. He fled to the hills under the pretence of hunting the mountain-sheep, and there he wrestled with the spectres of his shame and despair, which were his constant companions. At night he would return to his home, creeping along the trail with head bent, and face drawn and haggard. But as he neared his house his form would always straighten, his step quicken, and his eyes brighten as Nance came forth to greet him. In her presence he always tried to be cheerful. But at times he would forget himself, and while at supper he would slip back into the old mood which had held him in thrall throughout the day. Then as he crouched there with the wan dejected look upon his face Nance would watch him with apprehension, and sometimes would speak to him, asking if he felt ill. This would always startle Martin from his reverie, and with an effort he would make some excuse for his strange behaviour. Although Nance pretended not to see anything amiss with her father, she was, nevertheless, much concerned. Why did he leave her so often? she asked herself, and why those strange spells of absent-mindedness, and the haggard expression upon his face?

After supper Martin would sit quietly by himself listening to the story of the hospital, for Dick came every evening, and he always had much to tell about his work during the day. Nance's eyes beamed with interest as he told of the cutting of the logs, floating them down the Quaska, and the struggle they had in dragging them up the bank to the right spot near the river where they were to erect the building.

Dick worked as hard, if not harder, in fact, than any one else. He not only chopped, hewed, tugged and lifted all day, but he did all the planning as well, besides encouraging his co-workers. The miners took turns at the work, and every day there were several new volunteers. How full of thankfulness was the missionary's heart when at length the exterior of the building was almost completed. Of course there was much work still ahead of him. There were the walls to be chinked with moss and mudded; there were doors and windows to be made; the floor to be built; partitions to be put up; cots, tables, shelves, and other things to be constructed, which would take weeks of steady work. All this he expected to do himself, except for the occasional assistance he was sure to receive from Tom, Dad, and a few others.

But what pleased the missionary more than anything else was the good will of the miners, and the hearty spirit in which they assisted him. He had been brought into close contact with a number of them, and they had all voted him a real good fellow.

As Dick talked each night of the work done throughout the day, and what he hoped to do on the morrow, Nance would listen with the deepest interest. Martin would sit and smoke without saying a word. It was impossible for him not to like the young man, who was so thoroughly in love with his work. But the more Martin heard of the progress of the hospital, the deeper the iron entered into his soul. He did not actually envy the missionary, but how he longed to be full of such enthusiasm, and to be doing a work of a like nature. But this he knew could never be. Not for him could there be a return through that door which had closed to him forever. And as he watched the two happy ones before him he felt like a monster of deception. He presented to them the life of trust and honour, but they could not remove the veil and behold that other old life, which was ever grinning horribly upon him, giving him no rest day or night. How long could he keep this up? he asked himself. Would some one unmask him, or would he be forced to do it himself, that he might find the peace of mind which he so ardently desired?