The girl seated herself on a stone in the shade of a stunted fir, and Forrest, a little worn from the long tramp, threw himself on the ground, putting aside his hat and resting his head on his hand, his elbow on the earth, while he looked off down the gorge. "Somewhere in there," he said, "beyond that curve, I ought to find my lost prospect. The mother lode should crop out in one of those lower bluffs towards the Des Chutes. The thunder of the river reached me not long before,—I remember that clearly,—but I wish the place I staked that day had only been in range of that fine old landmark, the tower." She looked down thoughtfully into the wooded gorge. "In such a tangle you might pass the place a dozen times. Your stakes must have been overgrown in a few weeks with fern and salal, or shoots of alder. It’s really beginning again." "Almost." He set his square jaw and a vertical line deepened between his eyes. "Still, it’s there and sooner or later I’ll find it. But I must make the most of this trip; I can’t hope for many days off at the Freeport mills. That’s the worst of it,"—he smiled, shaking his head,—"no more timber-cruising; nothing to take me out-of-doors." "Do you know, I can’t think of Tumwater, the mills, the falls, the ridge road, without remembering you? You’ve been a part of it, Paul; the spirit of it all." "That’s nice of you." He gave her a swift look of appreciation. His eyes, a deep, clear hazel, were his most expressive feature; they put weight and character into his slightest remark. "But a man must step out of his cradle, sometime, and Judge Kingsley has made me a fine offer. He is sure to gain the election,—no man is better known, or as popular in the whole territory; no one has the interests of the country more at heart. And when he goes to Congress he means to leave the Freeport mills under my management altogether; that is with the co-operation of Philip." "The co-operation of Philip? Do you think because Phil Kingsley has put his money into that property it will make any difference?" "The Judge thinks it will be the making of him." "Phil Kingsley’s gain," she said slowly, "is always someone else’s loss. You ought to know it." Forrest laughed, his short, pleasant laugh. "I think," he said, "you can trust me to take care of myself. Of course you know," he went on presently, "Phil means to live at the mills. His uncle opposes it. If he goes to Washington the house at Olympia will have to be leased to strangers or closed, and it will be a miserable place, at the mills, for your sister and little Si. She had better take a house over the harbor at Seattle. But she is going to live at Freeport. Like you she is determined." "Freeport is different. It’s just a bleak, wind-swept beach, shut off from the green earth by a towering bluff. Indeed, I wouldn’t live there. Here, I have the woods and mountains all around. And I love the Nisqually. It’s freedom."