"But you don't believe I shall find the lode. Why do you want to come?"
"I know the bush," Thirlwell answered with a smile. "So far I've been prudent and stuck to my job, but I've felt the pull of the lone trail like other men. In fact, I'd rather like to do something rash, for a change."
"Have you never done anything rash?"
"Only once, I think. It needed all my pluck; but the curious thing is that it's now turning out better than I hoped."
Agatha pondered and then looked up. "It would be an advantage to have somebody I could trust to look after the packers and canoes; but the journey must be made at my cost. I couldn't let another undertake my duty."
"Then I may come? It's a promise?"
"Yes," said Agatha quietly; "when I am ready I will let you know. Now, however, we must get back to the hotel."
Thirlwell dipped the paddle, the canoe lurched, and her bow rose at his next vigorous stroke. The ripples she threw off widened into a fan-shaped wake that trailed away and was lost in a glitter of moonlight. The black pines on the point rose higher, resinous smells came out of the dark, and presently a row of lights twinkled ahead. Thirlwell ran the canoe alongside the landing and when they reached the veranda Agatha gave him her hand.
"You start early, I think," she said. "I have much to thank you for and am glad we have met."
He let her go and afterwards leaned against the rails. She had made him a promise and when they next met it would be beside a river of the North. But this was twelve months ahead; he felt it was a long time to wait.