Another realistic story of the Northwest, taking us into a British Columbian wilderness and showing us what it is like to make long journeys through a trackless, inhospitable, and perilous waste. The hero of the story is a thoroughly likable young man--strong, clean, fearless, and self-reliant--whose mission is to restore the good name of a member of his family by disproving a charge of cowardice and inhumanity brought against the man after his death.
"You called me an honest man; you have my word--I'll see the right done."
Quietly as it was spoken, Lisle recognized that it was no light thing his companion promised him. In the Dominion, caste stands by caste, and Lisle, having seen and studied other Englishmen of his friend's description, knew that the feeling was stronger in the older country. To expose a man of one's own circle to the contempt and condemnation of outsiders is, in any walk of life, a strangely repugnant thing.
"Well," he said, "to-morrow we'll pull out and portage across the divide to strike the Gladwynes' trail. And now I'll fry the trout and we'll have supper."
They let the subject drop by tacit agreement during the meal, and soon after it was over a shout from the crest of the ridge above, followed by a smashing of underbrush, announced that their packer was making for the camp. Lisle answered, and a cry came down:
"Got a deer, and there are duck on the lake ahead! We'll try for some as we go up!"