"One of Mr. Clark's prospectors, Fisette." "And who told you?" "Mr. Clark himself." The girl had a sudden sense of discomfort. Why was Belding so inquisitive? "I haven't heard anything about it," he said shortly. "No one has outside of the office, except myself." "But why should Clark tell you?" "I don't know. Why shouldn't he?" Belding thrust the legs of his instrument into the ground. "I have an idea that he's telling you too much." The young man's eyes were hot with resentment. "Jim, how dare you!" "Well, where do I come in? You haven't been much interested in me the last year or so." She flushed. "That's not fair. You know how fond I am of you." "But Clark doesn't need you--and I do." "Do you object to my having friends?" she said tremulously. "Elsie, will you marry me to-morrow?" Belding's voice was shaky but in deadly earnest. "What nonsense." He shook his head. "It isn't to me,--I mean it. There is no one else. There never will be. Can't you realize that?" "I don't want to be married--now--" she said slowly. He snatched up his transit. "Thanks, I thought it would come to that." He took off his hat very formally and strode on. In his angry brain burned the thought that the sooner Clark came to grief, the sooner Elsie would get rid of this illusion. And then, as always, the brave and loyal soul of him sent out a silent protest. By now the wires were humming, and through St. Marys the news ran like quicksilver. In years past there had been individual discoveries by wandering bushmen, but none of them of value. Tales were afloat that old Shingwauk down at the settlement knew of a gold bearing vein, and that the knowledge would die with him. But at the formal announcement that the Consolidated had found gold, it was universally believed that it was of a necessity a bigger and better thing than ever before, and carried with it all the reputation of Clark's immense undertaking.