Something about Davies' manner hinted that the girl and he were good friends, and Jim was sorry Carrie was not there, since he wanted to see how she accepted the fellow's statement. For no very obvious reason, Davies jarred him.
"Looking for a wagon road line is a different job from keeping store," he remarked.
"I did keep store, but I've had other occupations and know the bush. If I didn't know it, they would have no use for me in the Martin gang."
Jim nodded. The fellow was plausible, and in British Columbia a man often puts his talents to very different uses. He thought Davies had talent, although perhaps not of a high kind. By and by the latter got up.
"If the boys are going fishing, I'll try my luck with them," he said. "I'd like a few gray trout and have brought a pole."
Two or three of the men picked up rods they had made from fir-branches, and when the party set off Jim walked across to the fire where Carrie was sitting.
"Davies has gone off to the river," he remarked. "It's curious!"
"Why do you think this curious?"
Jim hesitated, feeling that tact was needful. He was not jealous about Davies. Carrie and he were friends; he liked her much, but she had not inspired him with romantic sentiment. His imagination dwelt upon the girl he had met at the Montreal restaurant. For all that, he was puzzled.
"Well," he said, "it looks as if he had come out of his way in order to see you."