"I fancied it might be something of that description," said Mr. Oliver. "She'd soon have taken you up to Seattle, and nowadays it's a very short run to Chicago, where you could get on to one of the Atlantic flyers. I suppose you feel that you'd like to make the journey?" "I did--for a minute or two," Frank confessed with an embarrassed smile. "Then, of course, I realized that it was impossible." Somewhat to his astonishment, Mr. Oliver laid a hand upon his shoulder. "The wish was very natural, but stay where you are, my lad. There's more room out here in the Western bush, and you're making progress. This is going to be a great country, and you won't be sorry you came out in a few more years." "I'm not sorry now," Frank answered sturdily, with a flush in his face. Mr. Oliver turned away as the agent opened the door of his shack, and they went into the little, untidy office. "I want to send a message south," said Mr. Oliver, writing something on a form. "It's a code address. I suppose I could get an answer in an hour or so?" "Oh, yes," said the agent. "They'll be beginning to move about in Seattle now, and if the man's in his office there'll be no delay. In the meanwhile they would give you a good breakfast at the hotel." Mr. Oliver thanked him, and as they left the depot two men whom they had not noticed hitherto met them. Mr. Oliver glanced at them sharply, but he did not speak, and a few minutes later they sat down to an excellent meal in the primitive wooden hotel. When they had finished the proprietor strolled in and sat down for a chat with them. "Is there much going on about the place?" Mr. Oliver asked, offering him a cigar. "Yes," said the hotelkeeper, accepting the proffered cigar with alacrity, "we've struck quite a boom. There's a man clearing a lot of ground for a fruit ranch and putting up a smart frame house. Then they're cutting a couple of new trails. The boys are making good wages and they're all of them busy." "I saw two men just now who didn't seem to have much to do," said Mr. Oliver carelessly, and Harry gave his companion a nudge with his elbow. "They don't belong here," was the answer. "One of them lives down the beach and does some fishing with his boat. The other man came in from the South yesterday on the cars, and I don't know what he's after. I told him I could put him on to a job and he said he didn't want it." "As they're together, he's probably going in for fishing with the first one," Mr. Oliver suggested. The hotelkeeper pursed his lips and looked as if he were solving a hard problem. "It's a puzzle to me how Larry makes a living. It's only now and then he sends a little fish away, and I can't see what he'd do with a partner." Then he changed the subject. "You're thinking of buying land?" "No," said Mr. Oliver, "I sailed over in my boat to dispatch a wire. It was much easier than riding a long way to the nearest office now that the trails are soft."