The rickety stairway seemed to creak with surprise at the slowness
of his feet as Trove descended. It was circus day, and there were
few in the street. Neither looking to right nor left he hurried to
the bank of Hillsborough and left his money. Then, mounting his
mare, he turned to the wooded hills and went away at a swift
gallop. When the village lay far behind them and the sun was low,
he drew rein to let the mare breathe, and turned, looking down the
long stairway of the hills. In the south great green waves of
timber land, rose into the sun-glow as they swept over hill and
mountain. Presently he could hear a galloping horse and a faint
halloo down the valley, out of which he had just come. He stopped,
listening, and soon a man and horse, the latter nearly spent with
fast travel, came up the pike.
"Well, by Heaven! You gave me a hard chase," said the man.
"Do you wish to see me?" Trove inquired.
"Yes--my name is Spinnel. I am connected with the bank of
Hillsborough. Your name is Trove--Sidney Trove?"
"Yes, sir."
"You deposited three thousand dollars today?"
"I did."
"Well, I've come to see you and ask a few questions. I've no
authority, and you can do as you like about answering."
The man pulled up near Trove and took a note-book and pencil out of
his pocket.
"First, how came you by that money?" said he, with some show of
excitement in his manner.
"That is my business," said Trove, coolly.
"There's more or less truth in that," said the other. "But I'll
explain. Night before last the bank in Milldam was robbed, and the
clerk who slept there badly hurt. Now, I've no doubt you're all
right, but here's a curious fact--the sum taken was about three
thousand dollars."
Trove began to change colour. He dismounted, looking up at the
stranger and holding both horses by the bit.
"And they think me a thief?" he demanded.
"No," was the quick reply. "They've no doubt you can explain
everything."
"I'll tell you all I know about the money," said Trove. "But come,
let's keep the horses warm."
They led them and, walking slowly, Trove told of his night in the
sugar-bush. Something in the manner of Spinnel slowed his feet and
words. The story was finished. They stopped, turning face to face.
"It's grossly improbable," Trove suggested thoughtfully.
"Well, it ain't the kind o' thing that happens every day or two,"
said the other. "If you're innocent, you won't mind my looking you
over a little to see if you have wounds or weapons. Understand,
I've no authority, but if you wish, I'll do it."
"Glad to have you. Here's a hunting-knife, and a flint, and some
bird shot," Trove answered, as he began to empty his pockets.
Spinnel examined the hunting-knife and looked carefully at each
pocket.
"Would you mind taking off your coat?" he inquired.
The young man removed his coat, uncovering a small spatter of blood
on a shirt-sleeve.
"There's no use going any farther with this," said the young man,
impatiently. "Come on home with me, and I'll go back with you in
the morning and prove my innocence."
The two mounted their horses and rode a long way in silence.
"It is possible," said Trove, presently, "that the robber was a man
that knew me and, being close pressed, planned to divert suspicion."
Save that of the stranger, there was no sleep at the little house
in Brier Dale that night. But, oddly, for Mary and Theron Allen it
became a night of dear and lasting memories of their son. He sat
long with them under the pine trees, and for the first time they
saw and felt his strength and were as children before it.
"It's all a school," said he, calmly. "An' I'm just beginning to
study the Book of Trouble. It's full of rather tough problems, but
I'm not going to flunk or fail in it."