The moon was high above the white peaks, and a stinging frost was in the
air, when Ingleby and Leger sat a little apart from a snapping fire
behind a great redwood trunk that had been felled across the trail in
the constricted entrance to the canyon. It was wide of girth, and lay
supported on the stumps of several splintered branches breast-high above
the soil, with the rest of its spreading limbs piled about it in
tremendous ruin. On the side where the fire was some of them had been
hewn away, and a handful of men lounged smoking in the hollow between
them and the trunk. Another man stood upon the tree, apparently looking
down the valley, with his figure cutting blackly against the blueness of
the night.
Sewell leaned against a shattered branch a few feet away from Ingleby,
gazing about him reflectively. He noticed that the great butt of the fir
was jammed against the slope of rock that ran up overhead, too steep
almost for the snow to rest upon it, and that the top of the tree was in
the river some twenty yards away. The stream frothed and roared about it
in a wild white rapid, though long spears of crackling ice stretched out
behind the boulders, and there was a tremendous wall of rock on the
farther side. It was absolutely unscalable, and from the crest of it
ranks of clinging pines rolled backwards up a slope that was almost as
steep.
It was evident that nobody coming from the police outpost or the
commissioner's dwelling could approach the fallen tree except by the
trail in front, and on that side the branches formed an entanglement an
agile man would have some difficulty in scrambling through, even if
nobody desired to prevent him, while two or three of the men beside the
fire had rifles with them. The rest had axes. Sewell, who noticed all
this, glanced towards them thoughtfully. He could not see their faces,
but their silence had its significance, and there was a vague suggestion
of resolution in their attitudes. Most of them were men of singularly
unyielding temperament, who had grappled with hard rock and primeval
forest from their youth up.
"It is a tolerably strong position, and it's the strength of it that
particularly pleases me," he said. "If there were any prospect of his
getting in Esmond would no doubt try it. As it is, he will probably find
it advisable to stop outside and compromise."
"I'm glad you're satisfied," said Leger. "Still, it's a little
unfortunate you were not here this morning. In that case we might have
found some other means of getting over the difficulty, though I'm not
sure that there was any."
Ingleby glanced sharply at Leger. His face was clear in the moonlight,
and it was expressionless, but his tone had been suggestively dry, and
for just a moment an unpleasant fancy flashed upon Ingleby. It was
certainly unfortunate that Sewell, whom everybody looked to for
guidance, had been away that day, and the fact might have had
significance for any one who doubted him. Ingleby, however, had unshaken
confidence in the man and thrust the thought from him. Sewell smiled as
he turned to Leger.
"I was looking for a deer," he said. "Anyway, you had Ingleby."
"Ingleby," said Leger, "is usually where he's wanted. Some men have that
habit. It's a useful one, though I'm afraid I haven't acquired it. In
fact, I fancy I'm rather like Trooper Probyn. He was addicted to turning
up just when it would have been better for everybody if he had stayed
away."
He turned from them somewhat abruptly and strolled towards the men about
the fire, while Sewell looked thoughtful as he filled his pipe.
"Leger doesn't appear to be in a particularly pleasant mood, but he's
right in one respect," he said. "It would have been a good deal better
if he and Hetty had been anywhere else when Esmond turned up at the
bakery. Of course, they couldn't help it, but the result of it is going
to be serious. It is not exactly convenient that the thing should have
happened now."
Ingleby made a gesture of comprehension as he glanced towards the men
about the fire. Their big axes gleamed suggestively, and the rifle of
the man upon the tree twinkled coldly where the moonlight rested on the
line of barrel.
"It's all of it unfortunate," he said deprecatingly. "I suppose I'm
responsible--but I don't quite see what else anybody could have expected
me to do. I couldn't leave Hetty in Esmond's hands. It was out of the
question. The police wouldn't have much difficulty in making her out an
accessory."