The Blackguard, coming to the mill at high noon, found it a
smouldering ruin, and the woods above a smoking waste, full of
charred trunks. Going round by way of the Tough Nut Claim, he gained
the upper moorland, wrapped in a choking dry mist, out of which rose
the Throne cabins, gaunt, spectral, desolate. The doors were locked,
the windows barred hastily across with a few rough planks, the stable
empty. Down the hills he rode, his black horse lathered with sweat,
his face haggard as he followed the trail of three riders. Ramsay
had led, Miss Violet followed, Burrows taking the rear, all down the
swaying curves of the steep places, and along the sinuous path
through heavy timber. They had not stayed to even pack their
clothes; they had not watered their horses at the spring; they had
moved before daybreak, to judge by the blundering course, and Miss
Violet had left here and there tokens, as though he needed any
further incentive, shreds of white among fallen leaves, torn from a
handkerchief.
At last the Blackguard drew rein at the foot of the mountains. He
looked towards the camp where lay Arrapahoe Bill, tended by the
Mexican, recovering from an interview with a grizzly bear; he looked
along the trail toward the Mission, whither, to judge by the scraps
of cambric, Miss Violet had been carried much against her will; and
he looked across the valley to where the tents of the Mounted Police
encampment glimmered white in the afternoon sun. It was useless to
trouble the cowboys, useless to ride to the Mission unless he had
some sort of authority for interference; better to get help from the
camp. Trusting that the Padre would have sense enough to delay the
travellers, he set off at a hand-gallop for Wild Horse Creek.
By mid-afternoon he gained the camp, an hour later rode out again on
a fresh horse, accompanied by Dandy Irvine. Both men were armed,
both in uniform, for they rode this time on Her Majesty's service.
"Do you know," said Dandy, while they splashed across the ford, "that
this was to have been your wedding-day?"
"Was to have been? It is my wedding-day."
"Do you know that the Colonel went off alone this morning, bound for
the Mission?"
"To give the bride away," said the Blackguard, grinning. "I knew he
would keep his promise."
Gaining the top of the bench-land, they rode off at a canter across
the valley, through meadows scathed with an early frost, by poplar
bush, where the leaves hung sere and yellow, or fluttered dead to
earth. The wind was keen from the north, the sky was overcast with
wintry cloud, and distant woods loomed faint in a bluish haze.
"How do you know," asked Dandy, "that they fired the mill? It might
have been accident."
"I'm not quite blind," answered the Blackguard. "There was a
five-gallon can of kerosene lying outside the ruins."
"Well?"
"It was empty."
"What of that?"
"It was new, without a dint from being knocked about, or any dirt
from having been used for filling lamps. Whoever burned the mill
poured five gallons of oil over the kindlings, then chucked the empty
can out through the door."
"What else?"
"Beside the can lay a half-burned torch of paper, thrown away as the
blessed incendiary ran for his blessed life."
"Did you keep the torch and can?"
"Left them untouched for evidence. D'ye take me for a two-months'
rootie?"
"No; but I'm just about half sorry for the great inventor."
Night had fallen when the two policemen rode up to the Mission-house.
Within, Miss Burrows, the Colonel, and the Curate were playing an
innocent game of cards; without, in the porch, sat Mr. Burrows and
the Tenderfoot disputing hotly, but they brought their discussion to
an abrupt close at the sight of Mounted Police.
"Good-evening, Mr. Irvine," said Burrows easily, as the Corporal
dismounted, handing his rein to La Mancha. "You'll find your
commanding officer inside the house, playing with my niece a game
called animal grab."
The Tenderfoot was staring hard at La Mancha as he led the horses
away.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Burrows,"--the Corporal produced two blue documents
from his breast-pocket,--"the game I have come to play here is called
human grab. You, Mr. Burrows, and you, Mr. Ramsay, are my prisoners."
"What?"
Dandy Irvine presented the warrants, but the violent expostulations
of the prisoners brought the Curate and the Colonel hurriedly to the
door.
"What's all this?" said the Colonel. "Why, Corporal Irvine, surely
you've made some mistake?"
Dandy saluted. "Will you look at the warrants, sir?"
The Colonel took one, glanced at it by the lamplight within, and
handed it back to Corporal Irvine. "This is very serious, Mr.
Burrows,--a charge of arson cannot be lightly passed over, and
Corporal Irvine has only carried out his orders."
The prisoners were loudly protesting their innocence, Mr. Burrows
declaiming on points of law and usage; Mr. Ramsay almost in tears;
but the Colonel required their silence.
"Are you alone, Irvine?"
"No, sir. Constable La Mancha is with me. He has taken the horses
round to the corrall."
"Go, then, tell him to saddle the prisoners' horses and my own. I
will be responsible till you return. Padre," he turned to the
Curate, "may Miss Burrows remain as your guest?"
Constable La Mancha was at the back door embracing Miss Burrows when
Dandy called him away. "Come, none of that," he said briefly; "I
want you at the stables."
"All right, Corporal,"--La Mancha went on embracing Miss
Burrows,--"be with you in a minute."
"Don't cry, dear, there's nothing to frighten you; but I had to get
your Uncle out of the way."
"But he's innocent!" she cried. "You ought to take me to prison for
burning the mill. It was me."
"The deuce!"
"You know, dear, I had to make some sort of signal."
"To bring me, eh? Well, I don't object to signalling--at least, not
very much. Now, after we've gone, you make it all right with the
Padre. Tell him the whole story, and get him up very early in the
morning. I'll be back by sunrise for the wedding."
"By sunrise?" she blushed hotly; "I never said I'd marry you, though."
"No, I was much too big a blackguard, but now it's different, Miss
Violet, quite different, you minx. I never burned my Uncle's mill.
I was never half so wicked."
She laughed with delight at her own wickedness.
"Kiss me," he said, and that she did right heartily.
"Come, Blackguard," Dandy was quivering with impatience. "You fool,
you're spoiling the whole game. Hurry up!"
So La Mancha was dragged away to the stables, where in due course the
prisoners' horses were saddled, also the Colonel's grey charger.
Then came the champing of horses' bits, the mounting of men,
farewells, and the filing-off of a solemn procession into the night.
But Miss Violet was left behind for safe keeping, who, with her
humble confession, her tears, and a very few smiles, softened the
Padre's heart.