they maintain the required grade for the road. When he had gone McDuff turned to Gordon.
"Well, I'm stumped. Stevens gets through this ridge not ten miles above here and he don't have to dig much either, if his altitudes are right, and David, who is about the best bushman I've ever knocked into, swears it's north, not south, we've got to swing.
"To-morrow," he continued, "you take David and an outfit and go up-river a week and see what you can find. I'll swing north. I'm inclined to think that we've stumbled upon the first bad blunder Stevens ever made. He was in here when the country was freezing up, and starved out in the bargain. That may account for it."
While the engineers still argued the pros and cons of the problem before them, a swarthy face appeared in the tent-opening.
"Meester MeecDuff, I wesh to spik somet'ing wid you," was whispered.
It was one of the half-breed voyageurs.
"Well, what d'you want? Haven't I ordered you to keep away from this tent? If you've got any kick to make, take it up with David. He's your boss!"
The half-breed waited until McDuff finished, his beady eyes wandering from the maps on the rough slab table to the faces of the white men; then he said in a low, insinuating tone:
"Eet ees about Daveed dat I spik. He lie to you. Dees bed over dere," waving his hand to the west, "a beeg river come tru, a day polin' up de Flamin'.
