"I suppose you want to satisfy your curiosity first," Farnam suggested.
"We're not going to talk about mining," Mrs. Farnam rejoined. "However, I must do you justice; you took Agatha's side from the first. After all, your judgment's good now and then."
She took Agatha away and when they had gone George remarked: "I can't grip the thing yet. It's hard to get rid of a fixed idea you've had from boyhood. Still I ought to have known that Agatha wouldn't undertake a job she couldn't put over."
It was getting dark when Mrs. Farnam and the girl came back, and George said, "Now I want to know all about your trip. Begin where you left the cars and go right on."
"That will take some time," Mrs. Farnam interposed. "Shall I light the lamp in the room?"
"I think not," said Agatha, and smiled. "My story goes best with the twilight in the open. We had no lamps and pretty furniture in the bush."
She was silent for a few moments, looking across the orchard. The fruit trees were blurred and dim and the pines were black, but the sky shone softly red and green above their ragged tops. Then she began to talk; disjointedly at first, but the scenes she recalled got clearer as she went on, and she forgot her audience. It was her business to make things plain; she had studied this part of her vocation and unconsciously used her power to seize and hold the other's interest, but she did not know that she was drawing a lifelike portrait of her guide. Mrs. Farnam knew, and with a tactful question here and there led the girl forward.
It was, however, impossible to relate her journey and leave Thirlwell out. He took the leading part that belonged to him, and his character was firmly outlined by her memory of the things he had said and done. With something besides artistic talent Agatha unconsciously developed the sketch, dwelling upon his cheerfulness, courage, and resource. She told the others how he had nerved her to resolute effort when they had difficulties to overcome, sympathized when she was tired, and held the confidence of his men. Moreover, she made it obvious that there had been no romantic philandering. He had given her an unselfish, brotherly protection.
The narrative lost something of its force after she came to the finding of the broken range. She saw she had been franker than she thought, and the change in Thirlwell could not be talked about. It was dark now, the red and green had faded above the trees, and she was grateful for the gloom. She was not afraid of George and Farnam, but did not want Mabel to study her. Only the latter noted that she paused awkwardly now and then and added a rather involved explanation. The men were engrossed by Thirlwell's efforts to find the ore. When she stopped they were quiet for a few moments.
Then George said: "You would never have struck the lode without that man." He turned to the others. "Some story of a prospecting trip! What do you think?"