"If you make any fresh trouble here, you know what's coming to you," Scott remarked. "Steve is a good miner and it won't pay us to keep you and let him go." "I guess you won't find the boys are sorry he lit out. There's something wrong about the man." "If that's so, it's not your business," Thirlwell rejoined. "But why did you tell him he was scared of the rapid?" Drummond sat down on a fir-stump and grinned with frank amusement. He had finished his duty until the next shift went under ground and in the meantime his employers had no authority over him. Indeed, he felt that he had conceded something by coming when he was sent for, and he might not have done so had he not liked Thirlwell. "Because Steve certainly _was_ scared," he replied. "How do you know this?" "Well, I s'pose I've got to put you wise. I go fishing evenings, when the trout are on the feed just before it's dusk, and I'd seen Steve prospecting round the pools among the reefs. Struck me as kind of curious, because if he was looking for something, he'd do better in daylight." Scott glanced at Thirlwell, who remembered having come upon Driscoll when he was apparently engaged in searching the pools. It was obvious to him, and he thought to Scott, that the fellow had chosen the twilight in order to avoid being seen. "Did Driscoll see you?" Thirlwell asked. "I don't know; the boys tell me he's a trapper," Drummond answered with a smile. "I suppose that means you kept out of sight and watched? But go on with your tale." "One evening I was sitting among the rocks. It was very calm and getting dark when I heard a rattle and a splash. I reckoned Steve was looking hard for something if he trod on a loose stone." Thirlwell nodded. Driscoll was a skilful trapper and a trapper does not disturb loose stones. Since he had made a noise, it was obvious that he was very much occupied, and thought himself alone. In a way, it was curious that he imagined there was nobody about; but although Driscoll had studied wood-craft, Drummond had, no doubt, inherited the ability to lurk unseen in the bush. Thirlwell could picture the lad crouching in the gloom of the dark pines. "After a piece," Drummond resumed, "I got his figure against the sky, and reckoned, because he looked short, he was wading in a pool. Felt I had to see what he was looking for, but knew I couldn't get near him along the bank. There are patches of gravel among the rocks, and the brush grows pretty thick where it gets the light at the edge of a wood." "Willows, for the most part; they're green, and soft, just now," Scott remarked. "You can't crawl through green brush without making some noise. If you watch your arms and shoulders, you can't watch your feet." "How'd you know that? Gone hunting often?" "Never owned a gun," said Drummond "Still I did know." "It doesn't matter. Go on," said Scott, who looked at Thirlwell meaningly.