A few moments later a light flashed among the trees, flickered once or twice, and then burned steadily.
Thirlwell knew it came from the window of the shack, but it was curious that Driscoll had lighted his lamp.

In summer, miners and prospectors went to bed at sunset, and Driscoll read no books or newspapers.
Besides, if he wanted a light, why had he not got it before?
It, however, looked as if the man had not been at the rapid and when Thirlwell passed the shack he saw his dark figure at the door.
"Who's that ?" he asked, and when Thirlwell answered, added: "Watch out as you go down the gulch.

There's a rampike across the trail." When Thirlwell came to the burned pine he stopped abruptly as a thought struck him.

Driscoll's voice had sounded breathless; perhaps the fellow had overdone his part.

It might have been wiser for him to be silent.
Driscoll often went fishing and knew the river well; now the water was low he could have saved some distance by crossing the uncovered reefs instead of scrambling along the curved bank.