ome hundreds of miles to aid the
company in its extraordinary and wholly inexplicable game.

Personally it grieved me to think that my plan of returning to Black
Rock could never be carried out. It was a great compensation, however,
that the three men most representative to me of that life were soon to
visit me actually in my own home and den. Graeme's letter said that in
one month they might be expected to appear. At least he and Nelson were
soon to come, and Craig would soon follow.

On receiving the great news, I at once looked up young Nelson and
his sister, and we proceeded to celebrate the joyful prospect with a
specially good dinner. I found the greatest delight in picturing the
joy and pride of the old man in his children, whom he had not seen for
fifteen or sixteen years. The mother had died some five years before,
then the farm was sold, and the brother and sister came into the city;
and any father might be proud of them. The son was a well-made young
fellow, handsome enough, thoughtful, and solid-looking. The girl
reminded me of her father. The same resolution was seen in mouth and
jaw, and the same passion slumbered in the dark grey eyes. She was not
beautiful, but she carried herself well, and one would always look at
her twice. It would be worth something to see the meeting between father
and daughter.

But fate, the greatest artist of us all, takes little count of the
careful drawing and the bright colouring of our fancy's pictures, but
with rude hand deranges all, and with one swift sweep paints out the
bright and paints in the dark. And this trick he served me when, one
June night, after long and anxious waiting for some word from the west,
my door suddenly opened and Graeme walked in upon me like a spectre,
grey and voiceless. My shout of welcome was choked back by the look in
his face, and I could only gaze at him and wait for his word. He gripped
my hand, tried to speak, but failed to make words come.

'Sit down, old man,' I said, pushing, him into my chair, 'and take your
time.'

He obeyed, looking up at me with burning, sleepless eyes. My heart was
sore for his misery, and I said: 'Don't mind, old chap; it can't be so
awfully bad. You're here safe and sound at any rate,' and so I went on
to give him time. But he shuddered and looked round and groaned.

'Now look here, Graeme, let's have it. When did you land here? Where is
Nelson? Why didn't you bring him up?'

'He is at the station in his