The stranger, who swept his wide hat off as he turned to Hetty, laughed. "I have just come in. I wonder if I could ask—Mrs. Ingleby, isn't it—for a little supper?"
The request was a very usual one in a country where the stranger is rarely turned away unfed; but Hetty, who seemed to draw a little farther back into the shadow, was a trifle slow in answering it.
"Miss Leger!" she said. "Of course, you shall have supper. Put on two more trout and fill the kettle, Tom."
Sewell gratefully took his place beside the fire, and, for he had an engaging tongue, had almost gained Hetty's confidence, which was not lightly given, by the time the meal was over. Then she looked hard at him.
"What did you come here for?" she asked.
"Wouldn't the fame of the Green River mines be excuse enough?" said the man.
Hetty shook her head. "No," she said, "I don't think it would. People who talk as you do aren't generally fond of digging."
"Then finding I wasn't wanted in Vancouver I went back into the States, and as usual got into a trifling difficulty there. That was in Colorado, where the men and the manager of a certain big mine couldn't come to terms. The manager was, as not infrequently happens, friendly with the constituted authorities, and between them and the men's executive, with whom I managed to quarrel, they made that town unpleasant for me. Of course, one gets accustomed to having his character pulled to pieces and being hustled in the streets, but they go rather farther than that in Colorado."
"And so you ran away?"
Sewell laughed. "I certainly went when it was evident that I could do no good. Still, it was in the daylight, and half the populace came with me to the station."