Esmond was not at the outpost when the messengers reached it, nor was
the corporal there, and it was two troopers to whom the miners delivered
the dead lad. This fact, however, appeared to afford Sewell a certain
satisfaction, and he and Tomlinson went back with Ingleby through the
growing darkness to Leger's shanty. It was once more raining hard when
they reached it, and when Hetty had set a kettle of coffee before them
they sat steaming in the little log-walled room with the door shut. Each
of them was aware that there was a good deal to be said, and in all
probability little time in which to say it; but the subject was
difficult, and Hetty had cleared the table when Sewell turned to
Tomlinson.
"There's a plant in this country whose leaves the Indians believe are
efficacious in stopping blood," he said. "I wonder if you could tell me
where to find it?"
Tomlinson looked up with evident astonishment.
"If there is, I never heard of it," he answered. "I've no use for
worrying 'bout any plants just now."
Then he glanced round at the faces of the rest, and his eyes rested a
moment upon Hetty. "I'm in a tight place, but you don't believe I did
the thing?"
"Of course not!" said Hetty, with a little flash in her eyes. "Why don't
you answer him, some of you?"
Ingleby would have spoken, but Sewell held up his hand. "I'm not sure
you know how tight the place is, Tomlinson. If you'll listen I'll try to
show you."
He spoke for two or three minutes, and even Ingleby, who had long looked
up to him as a man of brilliant ability, was a trifle astonished at the
acumen which marked every point of the tersely logical exposition. It
apparently left no loophole for doubt as to who had killed Trooper
Probyn, and once or twice Leger moved uneasily. There was, however, a
little incredulous smile in Hetty's eyes.
"Now," said Sewell incisively, "have you anything to tell us?"
Tomlinson sat gazing at them stupidly, with the veins on his bronzed
forehead swollen, and a dusky hue in his face. Ingleby was troubled as
he watched him, and Leger leaned forward in his seat as though in a
state of tense expectancy, but still the faint smile flickered in
Hetty's eyes. For almost a minute they could hear the wailing of the
pines and the rain falling on the roof. Then Tomlinson spoke.
"I fired once--at a deer. That's all," he said.
Ingleby was conscious at once of a certain sense of shame and an intense
relief, for he recognized the truth in the miner's voice, and Sewell had
set out with relentless effectiveness the view the prosecution might be
expected to take. The latter laughed as he glanced at Hetty.
"You would not have believed he did it if I had talked for hours?" he
asked.
"No," said Hetty simply.
Sewell made her a little inclination, and then turned to the rest with a
smile.
"We have only reason to guide us, and we argue clumsily," he said.
"Women, we are told, have none--in their case it apparently isn't
necessary. They were made differently. Insight, it seems, goes along
with the charity that believes no evil."
It was not evident that Hetty quite understood him, for she sat looking
at the fire with hands crossed in her lap, and Sewell turned to
Tomlinson.
"I think the boys would believe you, as we do, but that, after all,
scarcely goes very far. We have Esmond and the corporal to consider, and
they are certainly not troubled with instinctive perceptions or any
excess of charity. What is more to the purpose, they wouldn't try you
here."
Tomlinson made a little forceful gesture. "Now, if I'd nobody else to
think of I'd stop right where I am; but there's an old woman back there
in Oregon who's had trouble with the rest of us--'most all she could
bear--and half of what I took out of the claim was to go to her. She was
just to sit still and be happy, and never work any more. I guess it
would break her heart if they hung me here in Canada."
He stopped a moment, and glanced at Hetty. "Still, she'd never believe I
did it. She's like you."
There was very little on the face of the statement, but a good deal lay
behind it, as Hetty apparently realized, for a flush spread across her
cheek for a moment and then faded away.
Tomlinson turned to the others with a gesture that was merely clumsy
now. "I'm going away, boys, and I want a partner to hold my claim for
me. If I leave it without an owner it falls to the Crown. You'd do the
square thing by me and a widow woman on a half-share, Mr. Sewell?"
It was an offer most men would have eagerly closed with, but Sewell
shook his head.
"You must ask some one else--it wouldn't do," he said. "I have never
taken a dollar I didn't earn, and, you see, I would scarcely have tried
to show you that you must clear out right away if I had meant to make a
profit by your doing so."
Tomlinson smiled a little. "Is there a man along the Green River who'd
believe that of you?"
"There are," said Sewell drily, "at least a few in other places who
would be glad to make the most of the story. In fact, if certain papers
got hold of it, I'm not sure I could live it down. That wouldn't matter
greatly, only, you see, a professional agitator's character doesn't
belong to himself alone. Still, you are quite right on one point. You
must have a partner--now. The agreement could, perhaps, be upset if it
was made after it was known that there was a warrant out for you."
It appeared to all of them that Sewell had thrown away an opportunity
for winning what might amount to a competence for life; but he only
smiled at Tomlinson, who turned to Ingleby.
"Then it has to be you. A half-share, and you and Leger can work the
thing between you. Neither of you is going to go back on me?"
Ingleby almost gasped, and his face flushed a little. It had seemed
quite fitting that the offer should be made to Sewell, but there was no
apparent reason why it should be thrust on him. He also saw that Leger
was as little anxious to profit by it as he was himself.
"Do you suppose I would take advantage of your necessity by making a
bargain of that kind?" he asked.
Tomlinson made a clumsy gesture. "You'd have to let your own claim go. A
man can't hold two placer claims, and you're on the lead," he said.
"I've got to have a partner, and I guess I'm not offering any more than
the thing's worth to me."
"He's right in one respect," said Sewell. "There are, of course, men in
the valley who would be glad to take the claim on a smaller share--but
they're not here now, and Esmond and his troopers may turn up at any
minute. Besides, the prospects of your finding gold on the claim you
hold are tolerably good."
"I'll be gone in 'bout five minutes," said Tomlinson quietly. "If none
of you will have the claim, it falls to the Crown."
That, at least, was evident, and Leger nodded when Ingleby glanced at
him.
"A half-share is more than you are entitled to, but what you can do for
Tomlinson is, as he pointed out, worth something, and you would have to
let your own claim go," he said.
"Then I'll offer him a thousand dollars for a third share, on condition
that he takes a four months' bill for them. I'll divide the risk and
profit with you, Leger."
Leger smiled. "It seems to me Tomlinson is taking all the risk there is.
If you don't find the money in the mine it's scarcely likely that you
will meet the bill. Still, the notion's a good one. The thing has a more
genuine look when it's based on value received."
The agreement was drawn up hastily on a scrap of uncleanly paper with
Sewell's fountain pen, but he made it hard and fast, while Hetty flitted
busily between the shed and the shanty. Then Sewell carefully wiped and
put away his pen.
"Do you know where you're going, Tomlinson?" he asked.
"No," said the miner simply, "I hadn't quite thought of that."
"Then if you head south for the settlements you will certainly be
overtaken. In fact, I'm not sure the corporal will not have sent a man
along the trail already. You can't live in the ranges with nothing to
eat, and that only leaves Westerhouse. They would never expect you to
strike out for there, but if you will listen for two minutes I'll tell
you the trail."
He was scarcely so long, for time was precious, but, though few men
unused to the wilderness would have understood or remembered most of
what he said, it was quite plain to Tomlinson, who nodded.
"Well," he said, "I'll light out when I've got the major to record the
agreement."
They pointed out that this was not exactly necessary and entailed a
risk, but Tomlinson was quietly resolute.
"I'm going away to save my claim, and I'll make quite sure," he said.
"It's an old woman back in Oregon I want the money for. She hasn't
another son--they're all gone but me. Well, I guess I'm ready. The
troopers would pick up my trail if I took a horse along."
He was scarcely a minute stowing the provisions Hetty thrust upon him
inside two blankets, which he rolled up and lashed with strips of
deer-hide to pack upon his back; and he wasted no time in thanks; but
when Sewell opened the door he walked gravely up to the girl, and laid
both his big hands on the one she held out to him.
"I guess I'm not going to worry you any more. It's scarcely likely I'll
ever come back," he said.
Hetty's face flushed a little, and there was a slight tremor in her
voice.
"It's all my fault," she said.
Tomlinson slowly shook his head. "You couldn't do anything that wasn't
just right if you tried, and you'll think of me now and then," he said.
"I'm going to remember you while I live."
He did not wait for her answer, but turned abruptly away, and Hetty
stood still a moment with hot cheeks and misty eyes. Then she moved
hastily forward, and touched Ingleby's arm as he went out of the door.
"There's one of the horses in the swamp. Couldn't you put the
pack-saddle on him and make a trail down to the ford?" she said. "The
troopers couldn't help seeing it. The ground's quite soft."