rning
his fate.

When a man has set himself to anything, he generally sticks to it, for a
time at least; this seemed to be the largest reason that Trenholme had
the first four weeks for remaining where he was. At any rate, he did
remain; and from these unpromising materials, circumstance, as is often
the case, beat, out a rough sort of friendship between the two men. The
fact that Bates was a partial wreck, that the man's nerve and strength
in him were to some extent gone, bred in Trenholme the gallantry of the
strong toward the weak--a gallantry which was kept from rearing into
self-conscious virtue by the superiority of Bates's reasoning powers,
which always gave him a certain amount of real authority. Slowly they
began to be more confidential.

"It's no place for a young man like you to be here," Bates observed with
disfavour.

It was Sunday. The two were sitting in front of the house in the
sunshine, not because the sun was warm, but because it was bright;
dressed, as they were, in many plies of clothes, they did not feel the
cold, in flat, irregular shape the white lake lay beneath their hill. On
the opposite heights the spruce-trees stood up clear and green, as
perfect often in shape as yews that are cut into old-fashioned cones.

"I was told that about the last place I was in, and the place before
too," Trenholme laughed. He did not seem to take his own words much to
heart.

"Well, the station certainly wasn't much of a business," assented Bates;
"and, if it's not rude to ask, where were ye before?"

"Before that--why, I was just going to follow my own trade in a place
where there was a splendid opening for me; but my own brother put a stop
to that. He said it was no fit position for a young man like me. My
brother's a fine fellow," the young man sneered, but not bitterly.

"He ought to be," said Bates, surveying the sample of the family before
him rather with a glance of just criticism than of admiration. "What's
your calling, then?"

Alec pulled his mitts out of his pocket and slapped his moccasins with
them to strike off the melting snow. "What do you think it is, now?"

Bates eyed him with some interest in the challenge. "I don't know," he
said at last. "Why didn't your brother want ye to do it?"

"'Twasn't grand enough. I came out naturally thinking I'd set up near my
brother; but, well, I found he'd grown a very fine gentleman--all honour
to him for it! He's a good fellow." There was no sneer ju