"We saved him from a raft out on the lake just before that fearful storm," Glen faintly replied. "He was almost dead, and in a minute more he would have been drowned. Oh, it was terrible! He is now at Sconda's."
"Another miner's trick, I suppose, to get here," Weston growled. "It has been tried before, but with scanty success. This must be one more fool who was trying the same game."
"He is not a fool," Glen stoutly protested, lifting her eyes defiantly to her father's face. "Mr. Reynolds is a gentleman. He is different from the rest of the miners."
"What was he doing out on the lake?" her father asked.
"He got lost in the hills, and nearly died. He drifted down the Tasan
River on a raft which he built. He was almost starved to death."
"And what was he doing in the hills?"
"Prospecting, so he told me. He was with Frontier Samson, and, going after a moose, lost his way."
"H'm," Weston grunted. "A trumped-up yarn, no doubt. Don't you think it looks rather suspicious?"
"It might if it were someone else. But he is different, and I believe he told me the truth."
"Well, we shall soon find out, Glen. If he begins any of his lies or fancy tales to me, he will learn his mistake. I am not going to have any young man wandering about this region, let me tell you that. It has been tried too often already, so we might as well make a special example of him in order to warn others. It's the 'Ordeal' for him, all right."