"In some ways, you're not a fool," Jake remarked with a twinkle. "I've known judgments you hadn't much ground for turn out sound. Very well; we come to the big contractors. Did they hire somebody to stop you?"
"It looks like that, but I imagine Martin's playing straight and he declared the Cartner people wouldn't use a crooked plan."
"Then who did try to stop you?"
Jim shrugged and his face got hard. "I don't know yet. We must wait."
"Very well," said Jake. "We'll trust our luck and hold on while we can, although I expect it won't be very long."
Jim did not answer. He was tired and now the reaction from the strain had begun, was glad to indulge his bodily and mental lassitude. The springy branches on which he lay were comfortable and the camp, with the red firelight flickering on the trunks and Carrie sitting by the hearth-logs, had a curious charm. She, so to speak, dominated the tranquil picture and gave her rude surroundings a homelike touch. On other expeditions, when Carrie was not there, Jim had thought about his camp as a place at which one slept. Now it was something else; a place from which one drew strength and cheerfulness. There was something strangely intimate about it; he was glad to get back.
CHAPTER XI
A CONFIDENTIAL TALK
Shortly after Jim's return, a prospector stopped one evening at the camp.