given me a character that I've got to live up to."

"You mean—" the light came back to her face—"you do mean you are not going to let it make any difference between us."

"Of course. Why should it? Only—tell me this—" the rock was smooth and difficult; he watched her footing—"is there some one else?"

"No, there is no one else—yet."

She paused on the word, for suddenly, lifting her glance beyond Forrest's shoulder, she saw the stranger she had met at the creek on the school trail. He stopped a few yards from the boulder, and, dismounting, took the chestnut's halter, and, making it fast to a sapling, stood waiting.

Forrest gave him a straight look and slight nod, and would have passed directly on, but the man smiled and held out his hand. "I hope you have not forgotten me," he said. "I am Stratton, lately of Victoria. I met you with the Kingsleys, when you came over to see the new mills at Seattle."

Forrest gave him another look from under slightly knotted brows. "I remember. You were going on a cruise with the Captain in the Phantom. I've heard, too, of you through my friend Bates, of the Customs Service."

Stratton dropped his disregarded hand. A wave of color swept his face, and the latent heat flared and died in his eyes. Then he said, evenly, "I am out here on a little hunting trip, and, incidentally, to see what can be picked up in the way of furs. I am interested in the trade, as you probably know, and I find Laramie has been taking some prime beaver." His glance had moved to Alice; apparently the explanation was meant for her, and she looked at Forrest, waiting for the obvious introduction.

It was withheld.

"But," Stratton went on after a moment, and he moved a few steps in the direction of the gorge, "I was stopped just now at this windfall. Myers told me the trail was impassable, and he spoke of a curious old tower worth turning aside here to see."

"Yes," answered Forrest, "it's the most prominent landmark in these hills." And he walked on towards his horse.

Alice went with him, and directly Stratton halted to send a look after them. "So," he said softly, "so it is what you have heard, through Bates, against the friend of a Kingsley. But you were rash to show your hand, young fellow, you were rash." Then his glance rested on the girl and he smiled. "I never yet wanted to know a pretty woman," he added, "that I could not find a way."

He turned and walked out to the cliff. He stood for an interval under the stunted fir, and scanned the gorge, bluff after bluff, down to the tower; afterwards he went along the precipice a short distance and climbed a bald knob of rock. He waited again, posed, with his head and shoulders etched on the sky, while he searched the opposite heights, the walls of the canyon; then, with a sweeping glance behind him, he looked once more in the direction of the leaning bastion. Presently he drew a handkerchief from his pocket and held it by one corner at arm's length to the breeze. In a little while a thread of smoke rose from the rear of the tower. He took out another handkerchief, a black one, and repeated the signal, twice. Almost directly the smoke ceased. He left the place then, and went back to his horse. Picking up the trail, he rode along the front of the windfall, on over the shoulder of the hill which he had lately climbed, and returned towards the settlement.