t had kept
trace in the same way and with the same secrecy of many other
people--of about a score of people. When Alan thought of Corvet, alone
here in his silent house, he must think of him as solicitous about
these people; as seeking for their names in the newspapers which he
took for that purpose, and as recording the changes in their lives.
The deaths, the births, the marriages among these people had been of
the intensest interest to Corvet.

It was possible that none of these people knew about Corvet; Alan had
not known about him in Kansas, but had known only that some unknown
person had sent money for his support. But he appreciated that it did
not matter whether they knew about him or not; for at some point common
to all of them, the lives of these people must have touched Corvet's
life. When Alan knew what had been that point of contact, he would
know about Corvet; he would know about himself.

Alan had seen among Corvet's books a set of charts of the Great Lakes.
He went and got that now and an atlas. Opening them upon the table, he
looked up the addresses given on Corvet's list. They were most of
them, he found, towns about the northern end of the lake; a very few
were upon other lakes--Superior and Huron--but most were upon or very
close to Lake Michigan. These people lived by means of the lake; they
got their sustenance from it, as Corvet had lived, and as Corvet had
got his wealth. Alan was feeling like one who, bound, has been
suddenly unloosed. From the time when, coming to see Corvet, he had
found Corvet gone until now, he had felt the impossibility of
explaining from anything he knew or seemed likely to learn the mystery
which had surrounded himself and which had surrounded Corvet. But
these names and addresses! They indeed offered something to go upon,
though Luke now was forever still, and his pockets had told Alan
nothing.

He found Emmet County on the map and put his finger on it. Spearman,
Wassaquam had said came from there. "The Land of the Drum!" he said
aloud. Deep and sudden feeling stirred in him as he traced out this
land on the chart--the little towns and villages, the islands and
headlands, their lights and their uneven shores. A feeling of "home"
had come to him, a feeling he had not had on coming to Chicago. There
were Indian names and French up there about the meetings of the great
waters. Beaver Island! He thought of Michabou and the raft. The
sense that he was of