ful!"

"Where was the hunter from, Glen?"

"From Big Draw mining camp, so I understand."

"Were you talking to him?"

"Yes, just for a few minutes."

"And have you seen him since?"

Glen's eyes dropped and the flush left her cheeks. Her father noted
this, and he laid his right hand suddenly upon her arm.

"Speak, Glen, and tell me at once whether you have seen him since."

Something in her father's voice startled the girl, and she looked up
quickly into his face.

"Tell me," he again demanded. "What is the matter? Have you seen that
man lately?"

"Yes, I have."

"Where?"

"Here."

"At Glen West? He has been here, and you have seen him? Are you sure?"

"I am certain. I was with him this afternoon in the canoe. But,
daddy, what is the matter? Oh, don't get angry. I didn't do anything
wrong."

Jim Weston had risen to his feet, and was looking down upon his
daughter. He was a powerfully-built man, of more than ordinary height.
The northern winter was in his thick hair and heavy moustache, while
his steady light-blue eyes and firm, well-built chin betokened a strong
will power of unyielding determination. Glen had often expressed her
unbounded admiration for her father, and believed him to be the most
handsome man in the world. But now he seemed like an avenging god,
about to visit upon her the force of his wrath. For the first time in
her life she cowered before him, and hid her face in her hands.

"And you say that your rescuer is here?" Weston at length asked. "When
did he come, and where is he staying?"

"We saved him from a raft out on the lake just before that fearful
storm," Glen faintly replied. "He was almost dead, and in a minute
more he would have been drowned. Oh, it was terrible! He is now at
Sconda's."

"Another miner's trick, I suppose, to get here," Weston growled. "It
has been tried before, but with scanty success. This must be one more
fool who was trying the same game."

"He is not a fool," Glen stoutly protested, lifting her eyes defiantly
to her father's face. "Mr. Reynolds is a gentleman. He is different
from the rest of the miners."

"What was he doing out on the lake?" her father asked.

"He got lost in the hills, and nearly died. He drifted down the Tasan
River on a raft which he built. He was almost starved to death."

"And what was he doing in the hills?"

"Prospecting, so he told me. He was with Frontier Samson, and, going
after a moose, lost