Vane made her a ceremonious bow and they went on, chatting lightly. When they came to a sweep of climbing moor, they changed companions, for Mabel led Carroll off in search of plants and ferns. Farther on, Evelyn sat down upon a heathy bank, and Vane found a place on a stone beside a trickling rill.
"It's pleasant here, and I like the sun," she explained. "Besides, it's still a good way to the top, and I generally feel discontented when I get there. There are other peaks much higher—one wants to go on."
Vane smiled in comprehension.
"Yes," he agreed. "On and always on! It's the feeling that drives the prospector. We seem to have the same thoughts on a good many points."
Evelyn did not answer this.
"I was glad you got that cart up the hill. What made you think of it?"
"The pony was played out, though it was a plucky beast. I suppose I felt sorry for it. I've been driven hard myself."
The girl's eyes softened. She had seen him use his strength, though it was, she imagined, the strength of determined will and disciplined body rather than bulk of muscle, for the man was hard and lean. The strength also was associated with a gentleness and a sympathy with the lower creation that appealed to her.
"How hard were you driven?" she asked.
"Sometimes, until I could scarcely crawl back to my tent or the sleeping-shack at night. Out yonder, construction bosses and contractors' foremen are skilled in getting the utmost value of every dollar out of a man. I've had my hands worn to raw wounds and half my knuckles bruised until it was almost impossible to bend them."