He went on, pondering the matter with some curiosity.  Since the miners were in camp, he imagined the man he had seen was Driscoll, who lived alone in a log shack near the bank.  But, if this were so, what was Driscoll’s object for wading among the reefs, and why had he stolen away when he thought he was watched?  Thirlwell could not solve the puzzle, but he could find out if the fellow were Driscoll or not, because the trail passed his shack.

He walked faster, making as little noise as possible, and by and by reached a belt of thinner forest.  He passed a fallen pine, from which he knew the shack was visible in daylight, and resolved to see if Driscoll was at home.  If not, Thirlwell thought it would be safe to conclude that he had seen him among the reefs.  A few moments later a light flashed among the trees, flickered once or twice, and then burned steadily.  Thirlwell knew it came from the window of the shack, but it was curious that Driscoll had lighted his lamp.  In summer, miners and prospectors went to bed at sunset, and Driscoll read no books or newspapers.  Besides, if he wanted a light, why had he not got it before?  It, however, looked as if the man had not been at the rapid and when Thirlwell passed the shack he saw his dark figure at the door.

“Who’s that?” he asked, and when Thirlwell answered, added:  “Watch out as you go down the gulch.  There’s a rampike across the trail.”

When Thirlwell came to the burned pine he stopped abruptly as a thought struck him.  Driscoll’s voice had sounded breathless; perhaps the fellow had overdone his part.  It might have been wiser for him to be silent.  Driscoll often went fishing and knew the river well; now the water was low he could have saved some distance by crossing the uncovered reefs instead of scrambling along the curved bank.  Besides, he had had a few minutes’ start.  After all, he might have been at the rapid and have hurried back in order to deceive the man who had disturbed him.  Moreover, he had learned who the man was.

This, however, did not take Thirlwell far and he resumed his walk, wondering what Driscoll had been doing and why he feared to be disturbed.  It was plain that he had taken some trouble to put Thirlwell off the track and might have succeeded had not the hoarseness of his voice given the latter a hint.  Thirlwell felt puzzled, but could find no clue, and deciding that the matter was not important presently dismissed it.  For all that, he resolved to watch Driscoll, but saw nothing to excite his suspicions for the next week or two.  Then the man bought all the provisions Scott would let him have and loading his canoe started for the North.

CHAPTER V

A NIGHT’S WATCH

Winter began unusually soon and a blizzard raged about the shack one evening when Scott and Thirlwell sat near the stove.  The small room smelt of hot-iron and the front of the stove glowed a dull red, but the men shivered as the bitter draughts swept in.  Thirlwell watched the skin curtain he had nailed across the window bulge while the snow beat savagely against the glass, and then picked up a book.  Presently Scott hung a bearskin on the back of his chair.