"But there is no mineral, to my knowledge, on this tract; though beyond, somewhere, in these hills, I have heard—there are indications."
"Then," and he waived that possibility, "it is enough that it is one of the best timbered sections in the Puget Sound Basin. These are fine old trees. And"— He paused to fleck an ant from his sleeve—"I have friends at court."
"Doubtless." Her patience was exhausted. "Such as those irreproachable men of whom Phil Kingsley once told us." She flashed him a look with that swift uplifting of her chin, and turned her face to the high shoulder of the hill. Her lips closed firmly; her breath came a little hard and quick; the ready color burned in her cheek.
Her retort brought the steel to his own eyes, but he had no answer. Her glance returned. "How could you find a timber claim desirable in this mountainous place? Twenty miles from a railroad, and on the Des Chutes, where to raft logs, or even dream of it, is sheer madness?"
"But suppose I should wish to put up a sawmill, and cut the timber right here on the ground? It would be a great thing for the settlement." His smile, which always hinted of mockery, lingered, and he watched her with the quiet enjoyment of the true angler, who is sure, but plays cautiously, to lose nothing of the sport.
"It might benefit the settlement," she said, and flashed him another look of fine scorn, though he saw her lip tremble, "but it would be years before you could hope for returns on the investment."
At this he laughed outright. "I withdraw," he said, "I withdraw. You are in fighting trim to your fingertips. You know too much about land law, Miss Hunter; the Judge has been a thorough instructor, and what you do not know about logging and milling, I am inclined to think is not worth knowing. But the homestead is yours. Now please establish a record for hospitality. I've had a long ride since breakfast."
"Do you mean—" She paused, flushing, then lifted her face to him all sudden brightness and charm. "Oh, you do mean it; I see—I see. You were only teasing me. It's hard, sometimes, to tell just where your jest breaks off—or begins. But did you really want this section?
"Yes, I looked it up at the Land Office, as I came through Olympia, intending to make a timber entry, and found the homestead filing under your name." He had followed her to the table, taking the seat beside her. And he stopped a moment, while he divided a roasted pheasant which he shared with her, then he said, "I do not pretend to fathom your reasons for burying yourself here in the wilderness; it is enough for me to know that you want this land. And the next quarter, on the other side of the cataract, is vacant. It is unsurveyed, but the squatter's right will serve me as well. I only want the place now for a sort of shooting-box; somewhere to stay in the hunting and fishing seasons, and, incidentally, to carry on a little traffic with Laramie and one or two other trappers, who have shown me already some very good furs."
She looked him over interestedly from this new point of view. "So," she said, "So, you are to be my nearest neighbor, with just the river between. Last autumn I thought I should have all the big heart of the hills to myself, but since Christmas Mill Thornton has taken up the next section but one on the school trail, and now you follow. The country is being settled very fast." She turned her eyes again to that high spur. After a moment she asked, "Have you been in Seattle lately, or at the mills?"