Mrs. Graham looked troubled.

"I must try to be fair. You are really not to blame; even if he hadn't met you, he would have gone to look for the lode some day. Then I'm confident you took every care of him. But, after all----"

"I know," Andrew sympathized. "He was well and strong when I took him away, and I have brought him back disabled. That can't be got over."

He paused and resumed in a diffident tone: "I feel responsible. There are things I can't put right--your distress, the pain your husband suffers, his regret at being laid up helpless while his foot gets better--but I must insist on making what amends are in my power. I think you understand."

"Yes." Mrs. Graham gave him a grateful glance. "But we'll talk of that later." Then she smiled. "He sent you a message--you are to mail the specimens to an a.s.sayer the first thing."

"I'll do so," Andrew promised, turning toward the door. "I'll come back and see how he's getting on early to-morrow."

On reaching the hotel he sought Carnally.

"Jake," he said, "you might fix things with the packers; give them any bonus you think fit over regulation wages. Then, because we owe them more than we can pay in money, you had better get up a supper and dance they could bring their wives to."

"It's a good idea! They'll like that. I'll see about it to-morrow. I need a rest to-night, and there's a job I want to be fit for in the morning."

Andrew was too weary to ask him what it was and after sending a message to Frobisher and getting supper he went off to bed. Rising late the next day, he went to Graham's and then took a sleigh drive, and by doing so missed a scene which caused some sensation in the town.

About the middle of the morning Mappin was sitting in his office, which was situated above a store opposite the second-cla.s.s hotel. The hotel was full, for some loggers had come in the previous night, and a number of railroad carpenters, whose work had been interfered with by a snowstorm, were staying there. Mappin had heard of Andrew's return and he was in a thoughtful mood, though he had so far avoided meeting with any of the party. He could not, however, continue to do so, and he felt that he might as well get the interview with Allinson over as soon as possible. Even if Allinson suspected treachery, he had no proof, and the worst charge he could make would be one of carelessness. On the whole, it had been a relief to see that the man had escaped: he had acted in the heat of pa.s.sion when he cut off his supplies and had afterward experienced a twinge of remorse. Mappin felt that he was a match for the fellow, and he had gone a needless length in plotting to destroy him.

He was thinking over the matter when he heard some one ask for him in the store, through which it was necessary to pa.s.s to reach his office.

Then there were footsteps on the stairs and he looked up in surprise as Carnally came in. It was Allinson he had expected to see.

Carnally was smartly dressed, and though his face was thin and worn it wore a look of satisfaction that puzzled Mappin.

"Where's your boss this morning?" Mappin inquired. "I've been waiting for him."

"At Graham's," said Carnally, sitting down. "I've come instead. Mr.

Allinson's got into a habit of leaving matters to me. There are things I do better than he can. I'm not so fastidious as he is."

"Then let me know what you want."

"It's about those provisions you sent up. Mr. Allinson told you where to make the caches?"

"Yes; I carefully put it down."

"Got the paper or the notebook?"

"I can't say where the notebook is, but I believe I could find it."

Carnally smiled, as if he were enjoying the situation.

"If you produce the book, it will be because it doesn't agree with what Mr. Allinson says he told you; but that wouldn't prove much.

You're capable of writing down what you meant to do and not what he said. If you're not able to find it, the reason is that you thought of the trick you played us after you saw him."

"Then you didn't find the provisions I sent as easily as you expected?"

"No; you know we didn't."

Mappin had plenty of courage.

"Well, what about it?" he asked with a little smile of scorn.

"I know the hand you're playing from; it's a pretty good one. Mr.

Allinson believes he gave you orders to make the caches in certain places; you contend he told you somewhere else, and there was n.o.body about when you were talking to decide the thing. Somehow an unfortunate mistake was made."

"It looks like that," said Mappin, feeling uneasy at the man's ready acquiescence in the situation.

"Sure thing!" Carnally cheerfully a.s.sented. "You fixed it all so neatly that you left only one way of getting after you; but I won't grumble, because it's the one I like." He rose and his expression changed. "The mistake you meant to make came mighty near starving three men to death. Stand up and answer for it, you blasted hog!"

"So that's your line?"

Mappin did not move as he rapidly considered his course. Overbearing as he was, he did not often give way to anger unless his pa.s.sions were strongly roused. A brawl with Carnally could lead to no useful result, and it would attract undesirable attention.

"You have hit it first time! Got feet, haven't you? You seem to want some stirring up!" Carnally reached for an inkwell and flung it across the office at Mappin's head. "Sorry I missed," he said. "But I've spoiled your clothes."

Mappin rose with a savage frown.

"Do you mean to go on with this fooling?"

"Sure!" replied Carnally. "If I can't wake you any other way, I'll fire your office fixings out of the window. Guess that will bring the boys around and I'll be glad to tell them what the trouble's about."

A heavy account-book, deftly thrown, swept Mappin's desk, scattering pens and papers across the room. Seeing that a struggle was unavoidable, he sprang forward. Caution had hitherto held him back, but his patience had its limits, and he was the heavier man. He missed Carnally with his first two blows, but the third took effect with sledge-hammer force, flinging him back upon the office-table, and during the next few minutes Carnally gasped and dodged. He saw that he must try to wear out his antagonist, and he watched his chance before he clinched. For a while they grappled in the middle of the floor, swaying, breaking ground with heavy feet, striking when they could; and then as Mappin freed himself the door was flung open and the storekeeper and several of his customers ran in.

"Hold on!" he cried. "What's the trouble? I thought you were coming through my ceiling!"

Carnally looked around, flushed and breathless.

"Stand back! This business has to be got through, with! It's pretty well known that the fellow's smart at stealing his boys' time, but he took on too big a contract when he played a low-down trick on me." He turned to Mappin. "Are you ready, you fat swine, or must I fire you down the stairs?"

"Leave them to it," advised a big logger with an appreciative grin.

"I'll put a dollar on the bushman!"

"You're wrecking the place!" objected the storekeeper, indicating the dislodged stove, from which thick smoke was pouring, and a broken chair.

"That doesn't matter," Carnally replied. "Mappin can meet the bill. He seems a bit slow in moving: they've been too liberal with the corn."

One or two of the men laughed; but Mappin looked dangerous. The struggle that occupied the next few minutes was a determined and strenuous one, and the spectators watched it with frank delight.

Mappin was powerful and could use his strength, but he had lived indulgently, a prey to his appet.i.tes. Carnally lived for the most part in the wilds, and hard toil and plain fare had toughened him.

Moreover, as a matter of necessity, he frequently taxed his endurance to the limit, and this stood him in good stead now. He was quicker than his enemy, and recovered sooner; when they broke away from a grapple he was the fresher.

Mappin began to show distress. He panted hard, his face grew suffused, the perspiration dripped from him. His collar had burst open, and his torn sleeve hung loose about his arm; he looked strangely brutish and his eyes had a murderous expression. By comparison, Carnally seemed cool. His thin, brown face was quietly intent, resolute without pa.s.sion; he fought cautiously, avoiding his antagonist's furious rushes, breaking away from an occasional grapple. Endurance was his strongest point, and he meant to tire his man. Mappin, guessing this, saw the advisability of bringing the struggle to a speedy conclusion.

He clinched again, trying to throw his agile opponent by sheer force, and for a moment or two Carnally seemed helpless in his grasp. He could not get free and Mappin drove him backward across the narrow floor, while the spectators, who had increased in number, looked on in tense excitement.

In the West personal combat is hampered by few of the rules of the boxing ring; but there is a rough notion of fair play and there are limits which may not be exceeded. Thus when Carnally, driven hard against the edge of the table, seemed to grow limp, there was a shout of protest as Mappin, reaching out with free right arm, seized a heavy poker from the wood-box. He was ready to strike when Carnally, realizing his peril, rallied his strength for a decisive effort. The poker struck the table with a resounding crash. Carnally secured a firm hold before Mappin recovered his shaken balance, and lifted him from his feet. He lurched forward, while the spectators scattered, and reeling through the doorway plunged down the stairs.

Mappin was undermost. He struck the steps half-way down, but it did not stop them. They rolled into the store amid a confused outcry. None of those who watched could tell whether Mappin scrambled up or Carnally lifted him from the floor, but in a moment they were on their feet, Carnally driving the other toward the door. With a last effort he hurled him backward, and Mappin went down headlong into the snow.

He got up in a half-dazed manner and Carnally leaned against the doorpost, breathing hard and regarding him with a grim smile.