The fellow had a dark, sullen face and wore an old gray shirt and ragged overalls.

He walked with a slight limp, in consequence of getting his foot frost-bitten on a winter journey, but he was an expert trapper and had penetrated far into the wilds.

When skins were scarce he worked at the mine, but generally left his employment after a drunken bout.
"I wonder whether Driscoll believes in Strange's lode," Scott resumed as the man went by.

"He knew him better than anybody else.

They went North together once or twice, and had been away some time when Strange was drowned coming back." "Strange wouldn't tell Black Steve where he thought the lode was," Thirlwell objected.