"That," replied Sewell, "is about the last thing we should think of doing."

He came back, and related what had pa.s.sed to Leger and Ingleby. The latter looked thoughtful when he heard him.

"One could almost fancy by the change in his att.i.tude that the major had something up his sleeve," he said.

"The game thing occurred to me, though I don't see what it could be. The accident to Esmond has probably upset him. Anyway, we have our own course to consider now."

"Since Esmond's not likely to worry us for awhile, we had better send all the men we can spare down for provisions, for one thing," said Leger.

It was decided on, and still Ingleby looked grave.

"That's all right as far as it goes, but it's only a side issue, after all," he said. "This state of things can't continue indefinitely, and Tomlinson doesn't seem to be getting much better, or we could have simplified the affair by getting him out of the valley. The winter's wearing through, and if nothing is done before the thaw comes we'll be in the troopers' hands. In the meanwhile there's an unpleasant probability of the freighter or somebody else finding his way in now we've broken out a trail. Have you thought about asking the boys at Westerhouse to join us?"

"No," said Sewell, with a momentary trace of embarra.s.sment. "There are a good many reasons why it wouldn't be convenient."

"I should like to hear one or two of them," said Leger bluntly.

Sewell managed to think of several reasons, but none of them appeared altogether satisfactory when his comrades considered them. It was, however, evident that he was determined on not sending to Westerhouse, and they had to be content, though Leger looked very grave when the conference broke up.

"One could almost have fancied that Sewell had lost his nerve, and if I could send Hetty out of the valley it would be a big weight off my mind," he said.

The same thought had occurred to Ingleby, and it troubled him again that night as he kept his watch behind the tree, for he could not altogether understand the tense anxiety he felt about Hetty. She had scarcely been out of his thoughts since the night she fainted at the bakery, which, considering that he was in love with Grace Coulthurst, appeared an almost unnatural thing. There was no doubt that he was in love with the commissioner's daughter, he a.s.sured himself. All his hopes and projects for the future were built upon the fact; but he was commencing to realize vaguely that she appealed, for the most part, to his intellect, while he felt for Hetty a curious, unreasoning tenderness which was quite apart from admiration of her or her qualities. He puzzled over it that night, sitting still while the men slept about him under the stars, and then gave it up as beyond solution when one of them relieved him.

In the meanwhile Trooper Grieve had found the gorge through the barrier-range, and was pushing on through dim fir forests and over snowy hillsides for Westerhouse. Esmond lay half-insensible in the outpost, for fever and dangerous inflammation had supervened; but n.o.body told the American where the lieutenant was going when he fell from the tree or anything about Trooper Grieve. There was thus no apparent change in the state of affairs until one night, when every man who could be spared was away at the settlement, a stranger worn with travel was brought in by two miners. Sewell was standing with the others about the fire behind the tree, and Ingleby saw the colour sink from his face when it was told them that the stranger was from Westerhouse.

"You have got to do something right away," said the visitor. "Slavin's coming in with every trooper he can raise. He went round the way the trooper came, and I pushed on by the trail Sewell told us of to get in ahead of him. A few of the boys are coming along behind me."

There was a murmur of astonishment and consternation, and then a somewhat impressive silence, which Leger broke.

"You mean that one of the Green River troopers reached Westerhouse?" he said.

"That's just what I do mean. Your man sent him."

Leger looked hard at Sewell, who stood back a little in the shadow now.

"It isn't quite clear how he found the way, but, after all, we needn't worry about that in the meanwhile," he said. "You are still our acknowledged leader, Mr. Sewell. Hadn't you better ask him a question or two? We want to understand the thing."

Sewell stood still for almost a minute, and the men, who were tensely impatient, wondered at it and the hardness of Leger's voice. Then he sat down on a branch where the wood-smoke drifted between them and him.

"Try to tell us as clearly as you can what happened," he said.

"Well," said the stranger, "one of the Green River troopers came in badly played out, and when he asked us where the outpost was we took him along. After what you'd told us we guessed it meant trouble for you.

It was dark then, and one of us crawled round to the little back window; but a trooper came round the house, and we lit out kind of quietly for the bush. Then a trooper started out on the trail as hard as he could hit it, and 'bout half an hour later Slavin came out in front of the outpost. 'I'm going away by and by--for my health--but I've sent to Clatterton Creek for two or three more policemen, and if you start any blame circus while I'm away, I'll see the boys who made it are sorry for themselves,' he said."

"The boys took it quietly?" asked Ingleby.

"Yes," said the stranger. "That's what they did. You see, the folks in Victoria had moved on Eshelby, and the new man was doing what he could for us within reason. Anyway, we hadn't heard from you, and the boys weren't going to make trouble for nothing when Slavin was there."

Again Leger glanced at Sewell, who said nothing, and then made a little sign to the speaker. "n.o.body would expect it of them," he said. "Get on."

"Well," said the stranger, "when Slavin and his troopers lit out quietly 'bout an hour after, we got our packs made and came on after them. That is, a few of us who hadn't struck any dirt that was worth the washing.

We were willing to take a hand in if we were wanted, because we heard of Hall Sewell before he came to Westerhouse. If he was in a tight place, we figured we'd stand behind him. He'd often done what he could for men like us."

Sewell made no sign, but leaned back, a shadowy figure, against the tree, and there was something in his silence that set Ingleby's nerves on edge.

"We kept 'most a league behind Slavin, and we had to get a move on at that," continued the speaker. "He wasn't wasting time. Then when we'd got through the range he broke off to the north, and we figured that was the way the trooper came. We let him go, and came right on by the trail Sewell told us of."

"How many are there of you?" asked Leger.

"Eight. They're 'most as cleaned out of grub and money as I am. We'd have sent you a hundred if you'd wanted them soon after Sewell came."

Ingleby laughed harshly, a jarring, hopeless laugh, and there was a murmur from the men.

"Our hand's played out. The contract was too big for us," said one of them. "What d'you figure on doing--now--Mr. Sewell?"

Sewell rose slowly, as though it cost him an effort, and, face to face with them, stood where the firelight fell upon him. The bronze had faded from his cheeks, and his glance was vacillating.

"Nothing in the meanwhile, boys," he said. "In fact, there is nothing we can do but try to extort some trifling concession from Slavin before we surrender to-morrow."

He stopped a moment, and looked at them with steadying eyes. "If we had Westerhouse behind us I would have asked you to make a fight for it. It would at least have been an easy way out of the tangle for one of us--but it would only mean useless bloodshed as it is. I can't get you into further trouble, boys."

His voice had been growing hoa.r.s.er, and there was an uncomfortable silence when he stopped. This was not what the men had expected, and everybody seemed to feel that there was something wrong. Then Ingleby looked at Leger with a little bitter smile.

"Well," he said, "we have made our protest, and, as any one else would have foreseen, have found it useless. Established order is too strong for us. I never felt of quite so little account as I do to-night."

Leger nodded sympathetically. "That," he said, "isn't, after all, of any particular consequence--and I scarcely think it was quite our fault.

Why didn't Sewell send over to Westerhouse?"

"I don't know," said Ingleby. "It doesn't matter now."

"Have you asked yourself how the trooper found his way across the range?"

Ingleby turned round on him suddenly. "What do you mean by that?"

"If you can't find an answer, I think you should ask Sewell. It seems to me you are ent.i.tled to know."

Ingleby met his eyes for a moment, and then the blood rushed to his face as he rose. He said nothing, but he saw Sewell leave the fire, and, turning abruptly, he moved on behind him up the little trail to the bakery, though he made no effort to overtake him. It was very dark beneath the pines, and he felt that he must see the man he had believed in. It seemed a very long while before he reached the bakery and, going in quietly, saw Hetty regarding Sewell with a flash of scornful anger in her eyes.

"Oh," she said, "it's perfectly plain to me! The girl tricked you. I knew she would."

Then she started as she saw Ingleby in the doorway, though the flush in her cheeks grew deeper and the little vindictive glow in her eyes plainer still.

"You heard me, Walter? Well, he knows she did. Look at him," she said.

"If you will go away for about five minutes, Hetty, I shall be much obliged to you," said Ingleby quietly. "Mr. Sewell has something to say to me."

Hetty swung round and swept out of the room, and, when the door closed behind her, Sewell sat down at the table, and Ingleby stood in front of him. His face was grim, and his lips were tightly set.

"Well?" he said at length.