"I asked you what brought you here," said Hetty severely.
Sewell made a little expressive gesture. "Between friends—I think I can go so far?" he asked, and it was Hetty alone he looked at. "You see, I met your brother and Mr. Ingleby in Vancouver."
Hetty regarded him silently for a moment or two. He was a well-favoured man with a curiously pleasing manner. "Yes," she said. "I think you can."
"Then I came here to see what I could do at mining—I have really used the shovel oftener than you seem to fancy—and, when it is necessary, go through by the Indian trail to the camps between this country and the Yukon. Though they will probably work on quietly while the ground is soft, they're not pleased with the mining regulations yonder."
He looked out into the soft blue darkness which now veiled the great white peaks that lay between him and the vast desolation of the Northwest, and the smile died out of his eyes. A few moments slipped by before Leger broke the silence.
"I believe that trail is scarcely practicable to a white man. Only one or two have ever tried it," he said.
"That is so much the better. I am, however, certainly going in."
There was a little silence, and then Ingleby said suggestively, "They have been sending a good many of the Northwest Police into that country."
Sewell smiled. "From one point of view I think they were wise. It's not the contented that one usually finds mining in the wilderness. The soil, of course, is British, but that, after all, does not imply very much."
"You mean that the men up there have no country?" asked Leger.