"I haven't quite got used to the situation yet," Thirlwell answered awkwardly. "You see, I never expected to find the ore." "That was rather obvious," Agatha rejoined with some dryness. "But if you thought we would be disappointed, why did you come?" Thirlwell was silent. He did not mean to admit that he had thought a sharp disappointment would be good for her and might save her worse pain. It was difficult to state this properly. Then if he owned that he had come for the pleasure of her society, she might misunderstand him and he might say too much. Agatha was half amused by his embarrassment, but was moved all the same, for she understood more than he knew. "We'll let it go," she resumed. "Still, I don't see why you should be disturbed by my success." "One often feels sorry when one finishes a big job. It means one has come to the end of things one has got used to and likes." "But this is rather the beginning than the end." "No," he said moodily. "We have had a glorious trip, but it's done with. You will go back to the cities; there are only two or three months when a civilized girl can live in the woods. The trail we have broken stops here." "But what do you mean to do?" "Help Scott at the Clermont, until he's forced to give up." "Sit down and light your pipe," said Agatha. "We must talk about this." He obeyed and picked up his pipe. Although he did not light it, its touch was soothing and he wanted to keep cool. Agatha sat down opposite on a fallen trunk and presently went on: "To begin with, the mine must be worked, not sold, and I need help." "You can get a good manager for the wages you'll be able to pay." Agatha's color was higher, but she gave him a steady look. "I want a man I know and trust. There are many ways in which I shall need advice, because I cannot take this fortune without its responsibility. The mine must be worked to the best advantage and the people I employ treated well. I mean to build good houses for them, not rude shacks, make it possible for them to lead happy lives, and see they get the best, not the worst, that our cities can send them when a settlement springs up." "It's a fine ambition," Thirlwell remarked. "However, it will cost you something, and you'll find some resistance from the people you want to help; but if the ore's as good as we think, you'll be able to carry out your plans." "Do you think I could trust this work to a stranger? A man hired for wages, who might have no sympathy with my aims?" Agatha asked. "Then, if when I've done all I mean, I'm rich, somebody must help me to use the money well." She turned her head for a moment, and then resumed: "Can't you see that it's daunting to feel I may have to struggle alone with a task I'm hardly fit for--to know I'll make mistakes?" "There is your brother." Agatha smiled.