some of them retain a whimsical
toleration for those of weaker fiber.

"It's a bush camp?" Weston asked.

Stirling smiled good-humoredly.

"They call it that," he said. "It cost me quite a few dollars. You'll
see when you get there."

Weston was somewhat relieved when they safely accomplished the first
stage of the journey, and, turning the team over to a man by the
waterside, paddled off to a big, half-decked boat beautifully built
and fitted in Toronto. Stirling, who admitted that he knew nothing
about such matters, sat down aft and lighted a cigar, while Weston
proceeded to get the tall gall mainsail and big single headsail up. He
was conscious that his companion was watching him closely, and when he
let go the moorings and seated himself at the tiller the latter
pointed up the lake.

"About a league yet--round that long point," he said.

A moderately fresh breeze came down across the pines, and when Weston,
getting in the sheet, headed her close up to it, the boat, slanting
sharply, leaped forward through the smooth water. He sat a little
farther to windward, and the slant of deck decreased slightly when
Stirling did the same.

"You can't head there straight?" the latter asked.

"No," said Weston, "not with the wind as it is. She'll lie no higher."

"Well," observed Stirling, "she's going, anyway. That pleases me. It
helps one to get rid of the city. We'll have a talk, in the meanwhile.
I sent for you before. Why didn't you come?"

It was somewhat difficult to answer, and Weston wrinkled his forehead,
stiffening his grasp on the tiller.

"I was fortunate enough to be of some little service to Miss
Stirling's friends on the range, and I fancied that because of it you
meant to offer me promotion of some kind," he said.

"Well?" queried Stirling, with his eyes fixed on his companion's face.

Weston hesitated. He could not very well tell this man that a vein of
probably misguided pride rendered him unwilling to accept a favor from
Ida Stirling's father.

"I don't think there was any obligation, sir," he said.

"That," remarked Stirling dryly, "is a kind of feeling that may trip
you up some day. Still, you came this time."

"I did," said Weston. "You see, the case was rather different. You
offered to hire me to do a thing I'm accustomed to. It's my
occupation."

His companion made a little sign of comprehension, though there was a
faintly whimsical smile in his eyes.

"Now, you're wondering why I