At length Lisle, securing another trout, waded ashore and glanced with a rueful smile at the dozen this one made. They scarcely averaged half a pound, and he had spent most of a day that could badly be spared in catching them. Plodding back along the shingle with his load, he reached a little level strip beneath a scarp of rock, where a fire blazed among the boulders. A tent stood beneath two or three small, wind-stunted spruces, and a ragged man in long river-boots lay resting on one elbow near the blaze, regardless of the drizzle. He was a few years over thirty, Lisle's age, and he differed from Lisle in that something in his appearance suggested that he was not at home in the wilds. As a matter of fact, Nasmyth was an adventurous English sportsman--which describes him fairly in person and character. "Not many," he commented, glancing at the trout Lisle laid down. "They'll hardly carry us over to-morrow, and I only got a couple from the canoe with the troll. We've gained nothing by stopping here, and time's precious." "A sure thing," Lisle agreed, beginning to clean the trout. "We'll tackle the portage as soon as it's light to-morrow. Where's Jake?" "Gone off to look for a deer," was the answer. "Said he wouldn't come back without one if he camped on the range all night." Lisle made no comment, but went on dexterously with his work, while Nasmyth watched him with half-amused admiration. "You're handy at that and at everything else you do," Nasmyth remarked at length. "In fact, you easily beat Jake, though he's a professional packer and, so to speak, to the manner born." "So am I," said Lisle. It was growing dark, but the coppery glow of the fire fell upon his face, emphasizing the strong coloring of his weather-darkened skin. On the whole, it was a prepossessing face, clearly cut--indeed, it was a trifle thin--with a hint of quiet determination in the clear gray eyes and firm mouth. He looked capable of resolute action and, when it was needed, of Spartan self-denial. There was no suggestion of anything sensual, or even of much regard for bodily comfort. "If you don't mind my being a little personal, I'd better own that I suspected the fact you mention, and it puzzled me," Nasmyth replied. "You see, when I first met you at the Empress Hotel, in Victoria, you were dressed and talked like the usual prosperous business man. Trafford, who introduced us, said that you had a good deal of money in some of the Yukon mines." "Trafford was quite right. The point is that I took a part in locating two of the claims. Before that I followed a good many rough occupations, mostly in the bush. My prosperity's recent." Nasmyth still looked curious, and Lisle smiled. "I can guess your thoughts--I don't speak altogether like a bushman? Well, my father was an Englishman, and my mother a lady of education from Montreal; that was why, at the cost of some self-denial on their part, I was sent East to school."