"I'm not to be played so easily as I was when I first met you," he said. "Of course, in a sense, the pay's no great inducement to me; it's the idea of being offered it. I'm going to advise old Barnes, my trustee; he was fond of saying that I was fortunate in being left well off because I'd never earn sixpence as long as I lived, until I stopped the thing by offering him ten to one I'd go out and make it in a couple of hours by carrying somebody's bag from the station. Anyhow, this is the first move." "Then you're going farther?" "Quite so," was the cheerful answer. "I'll be a director of this company before I've finished. You can't stop my buying shares when I come into my property." Lisle was conscious of some relief. It was a laudable ambition and Crestwick promised to be much less of a responsibility than he had once anticipated. "I've a letter from Bella," Lisle told him. "She still desires to be informed if you're getting along satisfactorily. I think I can tell her there's no cause for uneasiness." "Bella's a good sort," returned Crestwick. "She'll stop asking such questions by and by. At least, I think she'll have some grounds for doing so." They went out into the city and a week afterward they sailed together for the North. It was still winter in the wilds, and though that made Lisle's work a little easier, because rivers and lakes and muskegs were frozen, he found it sufficiently arduous. He had to survey and break new trails suitable for the conveyance of heavy machinery, up rugged valleys and over high divides, and to arrange for transport--canoes here, a log-bridge there, relays of packers farther on. No man's efforts could be wasted, for time was precious and wages are high in the wilderness. Then, when at last the frost relaxed its grip and rock and snow and loosened soil came thundering down the gullies in huge masses, the work grew more difficult as he began to build a dam. Some of the men sent up to him, artizans from the cities, sailor deserters, dismayed by the toils of the journey and the nature of their tasks, promptly mutinied on arrival. Others dispatched after them failed to turn up, and Lisle never discovered what became of them. The camp-site was a sea of puddled mire with big stones in it; tents and shacks were almost continuously dripping; and every hollow was filled with a raging torrent. Nobody had dry clothes, even to sleep in; the work was mostly carried on knee-deep in water, and at first things got little better as the days grew warmer. The hill-benches steamed and clammy mists wrapped the camp at night; the downward rush of melting snow increased, and several times wild floods swept away portions of the dam and half-built flume.