But this was going too far, and she resolutely pulled herself up.

She had not found the vein and was perhaps thinking about Thirlwell oftener than she ought.

Feeling for the hooks, she fastened the tent door and soon afterwards went to sleep.
They launched the canoes in the cool of the morning, while the mist drifted among the pines and the sun came up behind the forest.

The stream ran fast and as they toiled up river a brawny half-breed waded through the shallows with the tracking line.

Thirlwell stood in the stern, using the pole, and Agatha noted the smooth precision of his movements.