His companion, Carroll, had lighter hair and grey eyes, and his appearance was a little less vigorous and a little more refined, though he, too, had toiled hard and borne many privations in the wilderness. His dress resembled Vane's. The two had located a valuable mineral property some months earlier, and though this does not invariably follow, had held their own against city financiers during the negotiations that preceded the floating of a company to work the mine. That they had succeeded in securing a good deal of the stock was largely due to Vane's pertinacity, and said something for his acumen; but both had been trained in a very hard school. As the wooden houses ahead rose higher and the sloop's grey hull grew into sharper shape upon the clear green shining of the brine, Vane broke into a snatch of song. "Had I the wings of a dove, I would fly, Just for to-night, to the Old Country." He stopped and laughed. "It's nine years since I've seen it, but I can't get those lines out of my head. Perhaps it's because of the girl who sang them. Somehow, I felt sorry for her. She had remarkably fine eyes." "Sea-blue," said his companion. "I don't grasp the connection between the last two remarks." "Neither do I," Vane admitted. "I suppose there isn't one. But they weren't sea-blue, unless you mean the depth of indigo, when you're out of sounding. They're Irish eyes." "You're not Irish. There's not a trace of the Celt in you, unless it's your habit of getting indignant with the folks who don't share your views." "No, sir," answered Vane. "By birth, I'm North Country--England, I mean. Over there, we're respectable before everything, and smart at getting hold of whatever's worth having. As a matter of fact, you Ontario Scotsmen are mighty like us." "You certainly came out well ahead of those city men who put up the dollars," said Carroll. "I guess it's in the blood, though I fancied they would take the mine from you." Vane brought his paddle down with a thud. "'Just for to-night, to the Old Country,'" he hummed, and added: "It sticks to one." "Why did you leave the Old Country?" "That's a blamed injudicious question to ask, but you shall have an answer. There was a row at home--I was a sentimentalist then and just eighteen--and as the result of it I came out to Canada." His voice changed and grew softer. "I hadn't many relatives, and except one sister, they're all gone now. That reminds me--she's not going to lecture for the county education authorities any longer." The sloop was close ahead, and, slackening the paddling they ran alongside. Vane glanced at his watch when they had climbed on board. "Supper will be finished at the hotel," he remarked. "You had better get the stove lighted. It's your turn, and that rascally Siwash seems to have gone off again. If he's not back when we're ready, we'll sail without him."