Presently Seaforth descended the stairway with Deringham, Tom of Okanagan moved forward with the horses, and Alton was left alone with Alice Deringham.  Neither of them spoke for a moment, and it was noticeable that the girl, who knew that silence is often more expressive than speech and had acquired some skill in avoiding unpleasant situations, was for the moment unable to break it.  It was, Alton who spoke first, and his voice was a trifle too even.

“You will be gone when we come back?” he said.

The girl noticed he did not look at her, and fancied she understood the reason.  This was a strong man, but it seemed he knew there were limits to his strength.

“Yes,” she said.  “The time we spent at Somasco has passed very pleasantly, but we shall go down to Vancouver in a day or two.”

It seemed very trivial, for Alice Deringham was quite aware that this might be the last time she would look upon her companion, but she had bidden farewell to men of his kind before.  They had worn their nation’s khaki, and Alton wore deerskin and jean, with the shovel girded about him in place of the sword; but she knew there was in him the same spirit that animated them, and that it was a silent spirit made most terribly manifest in action.

“I hope you will have a good time down there,” he said.

The girl glancing at him in sidelong fashion noticed his curious little smile.  “Oh, yes, I think I shall,” she said.  “I shall expect to hear you have come back with the silver.”

Alton nodded.  “Yes,” he said.  “When I come back I shall have found the silver.”

He spoke quietly, and there was nothing unusual in his voice, but glancing at his eyes the girl understood what he had left unspoken.  If this man did not return with his object accomplished, she felt it would be because he would not come back at all.

Then there was another silence more oppressive still, until Alton held out his hand.  “I must be going,” he said.

Alice Deringham was conscious of a little thrill as her fingers rested in his big, hard palm, and when he released them waited for a moment with a curious expectancy.

“You will take my good wishes with you,” she said.

Alton bent his head.  “I am doing this thing because I feel I have to,” he said very slowly.  “I could come and see you at Vancouver when I come back?”

The light was dim, but the girl moved her head a little so that the man did not see her face.  “Yes,” she said; “if it would please you.”

Alton smiled gravely as he swung down his wet hat.  “Then,” he said, “I will come.”

He went down the stairway next moment, there was a soft thud of hoofs splashing in the mud, and in another minute he had gone, and Alice Deringham glancing towards the bush saw only sliding mist and driving rain, until her father stopped close by her.  “There is evidently a good deal in heredity,” he said.  “Our rancher kinsman occasionally makes it very evident that he is Alton—­of Somasco—­but there are also times when he appears to understand what would be becoming in Alton of Carnaby.”