Before he had gone much farther a man came forth with a dog to meet him.
The two men had seen one another before, in the days when the neighbourhood had turned out in the fruitless search for Cameron's daughter and for Cameron himself.

At that time a fevered eye and haggard face had been the signs that Bates was taking his misfortune to heart; now Trenholme looked, half expecting to see the same tokens developed by solitude into some demonstration of manner; but this was not the case.
His flesh had certainly wasted, and his eye had the excitement of expectation in it as he met his visitor; but the man was the same man still, with the stiff, unexpressive manner which was the expression of his pride.
Bates spoke of the weather, of the news Trenholme brought from Turrifs Settlement, of the railway--all briefly, and without warmth of interest; then he asked why Trenholme had come.
"You haven't been able to get any one yet to fell your trees for you ?" Bates replied in the negative.
"They think the place is dangerous," said the other, as if giving information, although he knew perfectly that Bates was aware of this.

He had grown a little diffident in stating why he had come.
"Fools they are!" said Bates, ill-temperedly.
Trenholme said that he was willing to do the work Bates had wanted a man for, at the same wages.
"It's rough work for a gentlemany young man like you." Trenholme's face twitched with a peculiar smile.

"I can handle an axe.

I can learn to fell trees." "I mean, the living is rough, and all that; and of course" (this was added with suspicious caution) "it wouldn't be worth my while to pay the same wages to an inexperienced hand." Trenholme laughed.