rich pocket. His
companions had agreed that he should have the next best location after
Agatha's, and followed his advice about staking their claims. The
half-breeds had, however, declined to exercise their rights; they were
trappers and _voyageurs_, and stated that they had no use for mines.

Thirlwell thought there was no more ground worth recording, and doubted,
for that matter, if his and the others' claims were worth much, but it
was prudent to keep intruders out. Disputes often rose about the
application of the mining laws, and it might be dangerous to have a rich
and unscrupulous antagonist. His companions went away feeling puzzled by
his coolness. On the journey he had encouraged the party with humorous
banter, and made a joke of their difficulties; now he was quiet and
reserved.

When they had gone Thirlwell sat down and lighted his pipe, for he knew
he must grapple with his trouble before it mastered him. Looking back,
he saw that he had been strangely pleased by Agatha's letters, and when
he met her had at once felt her charm. This, however, was all; he
frankly enjoyed her society and thought she liked his, but he was not
romantic and was satisfied that they should drift into a close and
confidential friendship. It was obvious now that he had been remarkably
dull; Scott had seen how things were going.

Then he had taken it for granted that Agatha would not find the vein,
and had helped her because he thought it better she should convince
herself that Strange had been the victim of his imagination. He had
honestly thought this when they started, but now recognized that he had
unconsciously had another object: he wanted her society and to earn her
gratitude.

A light began to dawn on him when he found Strange's tobacco-box, but he
had, so to speak, evaded full illumination until it became obvious that
they were near the vein. Then the truth could no longer be denied. He
was in love with the girl, and had unconsciously loved her from the
first. In a sense, this looked ridiculous; but there it was and he must
face it. If she had been poor, he would have urged her to marry him,
although it might have exposed her to some risk of hardship. But she was
rich, and the best he could hope for was a post at a mine like the
Clermont.

He had no ground for imagining that Agatha would be willing to marry
him; but if she were, it would look as if he meant to share her riches
when he offered his help. In fact, it would l