a piercing wind swept the lonely waste when jernyngham left the homestead in the afternoon. he went on foot, because it was no great distance to the prescott farm, and he had no wish to attract notice by driving up in the sleigh. it was his intention to enter the bluff quietly a little while before it got dark and, after searching it, to walk home. by doing so he would run less risk of being seen, for it was undesirable that he should put prescott on his guard. he had said nothing about his plan to any one except gertrude, which was unfortunate, because leslie, who could read the signs of the weather, would have dissuaded him.
jernyngham felt uneasy as he glanced across the plain. there was something unusual in the light: every clump of scrub and bush in the foreground stood out with a curious hard distinctness, though the distance was blurred and dim. there was no horizon; the bluffs a few miles off had faded into a hazy shapelessness. the sky was uniformly gray, except in the north, where it darkened to a deep leaden color; the cold struck through the man like a knife. he was, however, not to be deterred; snow was coming and a heavy fall might make an effective search impossible for the remainder of the winter. there was something inexorable in his nature; his views were narrow, but he was true to them and ruled himself and his dependents in accordance 238 with a few fixed principles. this was why he had driven out his son, and was now with the same grim consistency bent on avenging him. he had a duty and he meant to discharge it, in spite of raging blizzard or biting frost. indeed, if need be, he was willing to lay down the dreary life which had of late grown valueless to him. yet he was not without tenderness, and as he plodded on over the frozen snow, he thought of the lost outcast with wistful regret.
he reached the bluff, and stopped a few moments, slightly breathless, among the first of the trees. they were small and their branches cut in sharp, intricate tracery against the sky; farther back, the rows of slender trunks ran together in a hazy mass, though they failed to keep out the wind, and once or twice a fine flake touched the old man’s face with a cold that stung. he pulled his fur cap lower down and set about the search. for half an hour he scrambled among thick nut bushes, kicking aside the snow beneath them here and there; and then he plunged knee-deep into the withered grass where a sloo had dried. the snow was thin in the wood, but it hid the iron-hard ground so that he could not tell if it had been disturbed. it was obvious that the chances were against his discovering anything, but he persevered, working steadily nearer to the homestead, of which he once or twice caught a glimpse where the trees were thinner.
at length he stopped suddenly and cast a quick glance around. he had heard a sharp crack behind him, but it was not repeated and there was little to be seen. while he listened, the wind wailed among the branches and the sloo grass rustled eerily. the patch of sky above him was growing darker, and the wood looked, 239 inexpressibly dreary; but as the light was going, there was more reason for his making use of it. though he was getting tired, he pushed on; avoiding fallen trunks and branches where he could, and floundering through thickets, he came to a small hollow which traversed the bluff. as it was nearly filled with drifted snow, he stepped down upon its white surface and, breaking through, sank above his boots in withered leaves. these, he thought, would effectively hide anything laid among them until it rotted and crumbled into their decay. he followed up the hollow, kicking the snow aside. he fancied that he heard the snapping sound again; but he was too eager to feel much curiosity about the cause of it, and there was nothing to be seen. the light was dying out rapidly, heavy snow was coming, and he must make the best use of his time.
after a while, his foot struck something which did not yield as the leaves had done, and dropping on his knees he dragged it out. a thrill of excitement ran through him as he saw that is was a suit of clothes and made out in the gathering dusk that their color was brown. then, as he rose with grim satisfaction, he saw with a start two indistinct figures watching him a dozen yards away. they moved forward, and he recognized the first of them as curtis.
“mr. jernyngham?” said the corporal.
“yes,” said jernyngham. “who did you think it was?”
“well,” returned curtis dryly, “we didn’t expect to find you. what brought you here?”
“i’ve been doing your work with more success than seems to have attended your efforts.” he pointed to the clothes. “to my mind, this is conclusive.” 240
an icy blast that set them shivering went roaring through the wood, but they were too intent to heed it, and curtis picked up one of the garments. he could see only that it was a jacket, for darkness was closing in suddenly.
“i’ll allow it’s kind of suggestive,” he admitted guardedly.
jernyngham broke into a contemptuous laugh.
“how was the man who sold my son’s land dressed?”
“smartly, in new clothes. the land agent remembered that they were a reddish brown.”
“that’s the color of the thing in your hand. there was more light when i pulled it out of the leaves yonder. are you convinced now?”
“it’s certainly enough to make one think.”
“to think, but not to act! you seem strangely content with the former! isn’t it plain that prescott sold the land, and then, remembering that he had worn a suit of rather unusual color which might help to identify him, hid it in the bluff? having other people in the house, he was, no doubt, afraid to burn the clothes.”
curtis folded up the garments and laid them on his arm.
“well,” he said, “it sounds quite probable; but there are discrepancies. i’ll take these things along, and i guess you had better make for the homestead and ask them to let you in. we’ll have a lively blizzard down on us very soon.”
the trees bent above him as he spoke, the wood was filled with sound, and fine flakes drove past in swirls. then, as the wild gust subsided, they heard a galloping horse going by outside the bluff and curtis swung sharply round toward his comrade. 241
“it’s that blamed ranger of yours broken loose!” he cried. “get after him with my horse!”
the next moment the police had vanished and jernyngham was left alone, listening to the crackle of undergrowth, which was lost in a furious uproar as the wood was swept by another gust. then the thrashing trees were blotted out by a white haze which stung his face with an intolerable cold and filled his eyes. for a minute or two he could see nothing, though he was conscious of a tumult of sound and broken twigs came raining down upon him; then, lowering his head, he stumbled forward between blurred trees, ignorant of where he was going. he struck one or two of the trees and blundered into thickets, but at last he struggled out of the wood and stopped for a few moments in dismay.
the light had gone; he could scarcely see a yard ahead, through the thick white cloud that rushed past him. the wind buffeted him cruelly, threatening to fling him down; the awful cold dulled his senses. he had not intended to seek shelter at the homestead—the idea was repugnant—and he hardly thought he meant to do so now, but, overwhelmed by the blizzard, he could not stand still and freeze. struggling heavily forward, he found himself in the open; all trace of the wood had vanished; he could not tell where he was heading, but he must continue moving to keep life in him. he could no longer reason collectedly. he had not been trained to physical endurance, and he was getting old; in the grip of the storm he was helpless. by and by his steps grew feebler and his breath harder to get. how long he stumbled on he could not remember; but at length he was sensible of a faint brightness in the snow ahead 242 and he made toward it in a half-dazed fashion. it seemed to die out, leaving him in a state of dull despair, but a few moments later something barred his way and stretching out his mittened hand it fell upon the lapped boarding of a house. there must be a door, he reasoned, and he groped along the wall until his hand fell forward into a shallow recess. then he knocked savagely.
there was no response. the gale shrieked about the building, flinging the snow against it in clouds, and he realized that any noise he made was not likely to be heard. he fumbled for a latch, and found a knob which his numbed fingers failed to turn. then in a fury he struck the door again, each blow growing feebler than the last, until the cold overcame him and he slipped down into the snow. he could not get up; even the desire to do so grew fainter, and he sank into oblivion.
it did not last, however, and the return to consciousness was agonizing. a strong light shone about him, though he could see nothing clearly, and he felt as if a boiling fluid were trying to creep through his half-frozen limbs; his hands and feet, in particular, tingled beyond endurance, which, had he known it, was a favorable sign. then somebody gave him a hot drink and he heard voices which he vaguely recognized, though he could not tell to whom they belonged. a little later, he was lifted up and carried into a different room, where somebody laid him down and wrapped clothing about him. the tingling pain passed away, he felt delightfully warm, and that was all that he was conscious of as he sank into heavy slumber.
it was daylight when he awakened, clear-headed and comfortable, and recognized the room as the one he had previously occupied in prescott’s house. it was obvious 243 that he had slept for twelve or fourteen hours; and seeing his clothes laid out, dry, upon a chair, he got up and dressed. then he went down to the living-room, where prescott rose as he came in.
“you don’t look much the worse,” the rancher said. “you had a fortunate escape.”
“how did i get here?” jernyngham asked, leaning on the back of a chair, for he felt shaky still.
“that’s more than i can tell. svendsen found you outside the door when he tried to get across to the stable. you couldn’t have been there long: a few minutes, i guess, though we didn’t hear you. do your feet and hands feel right?”
jernyngham was glad that his host made no inquiries as to what had brought him into the neighborhood.
“thank you, yes,” he said. “i must assure you that i had no intention of seeking shelter in your house.”
“so i should imagine,” prescott answered smiling. “however, there ought to be a truce between even the deadliest enemies where there’s a blizzard raging and the temperature’s forty below. though i can’t say you have treated me well, i’m glad you didn’t get frozen, and if you’ll sit down, i’ll tell mrs. svendsen to bring you in some breakfast.”
“with what there is between us, you could hardly expect me to sit at your table.”
“that’s a comfortable chair you have your hand on. bring it nearer the stove and let’s try to look at the thing sensibly,” prescott persuaded. “i’ll confess that i’d have excused your visit, if it could have been avoided, but as you already owe svendsen and me something, it would be rather forcing matters for you to drive away 244 hungry. that strikes me as about the limit of wrong-headedness, particularly as i’m not suggesting that we should make friends.”
the elder man was possessed by a fixed idea and his prejudices were strong, but he was, nevertheless, a judge of character, and the rancher’s manner impressed him. he took the chair.
“i believe i owe my life to you or your hired man. i find the situation embarrassing.”
“it would be intolerable, if you were not mistaken about another point,” prescott said calmly. “now i want your attention. i’m not anxious for your good opinion—i don’t know that i’d take it as a gift, after the way you have persecuted me—but i’ve a pity for you that softens my resentment.”
jernyngham moved abruptly, but prescott raised his hand.
“let me get through! i believe you’re honest; you’re acting from a sense of duty, which is why i tell you that you’re tormenting yourself without a cause. i had no hand in your son’s disappearance, and it’s my firm conviction that he’s alive now and wandering through british columbia with a mineral prospector.”
“what proof have you of this?”
“none that would satisfy you; nothing but my word, and i give you that solemnly. make your own inquires among my neighbors whether it’s to be believed.”
for several moments jernyngham fixed his eyes on him, and his suspicions began to melt away. truth had rung in prescott’s voice and it was stamped on his face; no man, he thought, could lie and look as this rancher did. even the discovery of the brown clothes appeared less damaging. 245
“then there’s much to be explained,” he said slowly.
“that’s so. it will all come to light some day. and now, it’s a bitter morning, the drifts are deep, and the trail lost in snow; svendsen will have some trouble in driving you to leslie’s, and you can’t go without food.”
prescott called to mrs. svendsen, and she presently brought in breakfast. jernyngham ate a little before he got into the buggy and was driven away. he reached the leslie homestead greatly disturbed. the painful mystery was as deep as ever, but he was inclined to think he had been following a false clue; the man on whom all his suspicions had centered might be innocent. it was so seldom that he changed his mind that he felt lost in a maze of doubt, and in his perplexity he told gertrude what he had found and related his conversation with prescott. they were alone and she listened with fixed attention, studiously hiding her feelings behind an inscrutable expression.
“i don’t know what to think; for perhaps the first time in my life, i’m utterly at a loss and need a lead,” he said. “everything we have learned about the man tells against him, and yet i felt i could not doubt his unsupported assurance. there was a genuine pride in the way he referred me to his neighbors for his character for truthfulness and one must admit that a number of them have an unshakable belief in him. then colston’s wavering; and muriel has shown her confidence in the fellow in a striking manner.”
“ah!” said gertrude sharply. “you have noticed that?”
“i could hardly fail to do so. it is no affair of mine and perhaps a breach of good manners to mention it, but if 246 i were in colston’s place, i should feel disturbed about the way in which his sister-in-law has taken prescott’s part.”
“why?”
“the reason should be obvious. leaving the man’s guilt or innocence out of the question, there is his position; i needn’t enlarge on it. muriel’s family is an old and honored one; it would be insufferable that she should break away from its traditions. then we know what her upbringing has been. could one calmly contemplate her throwing herself away on a working farmer?”
he had appealed to his daughter’s strongest prejudices, which had for a while sunk into abeyance and then sprung into life again. all that he had said about muriel applied with equal force to her. she had yielded to a mad infatuation, and returning sanity had brought her a crushing sense of shame. she might have made a costly sacrifice for the rancher’s sake, flinging away all she had hitherto valued; she had sought him, humbled herself to charm him, and he had never spared a tender thought for her. despising herself, her jealous rage and wounded pride could only be appeased by his punishment.
“prescott,” she said coldly, “is a dangerous man; i have never met anybody so insinuating and plausible. when he speaks to you, it’s very hard to disbelieve him; his manner’s convincing.”
“i felt that,” said her father with a troubled air.
“then shouldn’t it put you on your guard, and make you test his statements? is it wise to let them influence you before they’re confirmed?”
“it was foolish of me to be impressed; but still——”
gertrude checked him.
“with us suspicion is a duty. try to think! cyril 247 had his failings, but you were harsh to him. you showed him no pity; you drove him out.”
“it’s true,” admitted jernyngham in a hoarse voice. “i’ve regretted it deeply.”
she knew she had not appealed in vain to her father’s grief and she meant to work upon his desire for retribution.
“cyril came here and fell into prescott’s hands. instead of his meeting colston, the rancher personated him. he was the last man to see him; he knew where he had hidden his money; soon afterward he bought a costly machine.”
“i know all this,” said jernyngham wearily.
“there seems to be some danger of your forgetting it! let me go on! prescott took over control of cyril’s farm. he passed himself off for him a second time and sold land of his; you found the clothes he wore hidden near his house. could you have any proofs more conclusive?”
jernyngham flung her a swift glance.
“you believed him once. you are very bitter now.”
“yes,” she said, “i have admitted that he is plausible; he deceived me. perhaps that has made me more relentless; but i have lost my brother, and i loved him.”
her father’s face grew very stern, and he clenched his hand.
“i have lost my son, and i wronged him.”
then there was silence for a few moments; but gertrude knew she had succeeded. her father had been wavering, but she had stirred him to passion, and his thoughts had suddenly returned to the groove they would not leave again. the fixed idea had once more possessed him; unavailing sorrow and longing for justice would drive him on along the course he had chosen. 248
“you have reminded me of my duty,” he said with grim forcefulness. “i shall not fail in it.”
then he got up and left her sitting still, lost in painful reflection. his motives were honest and blameless; but she had not this consolation. she tried to find comfort in the thought that if prescott were innocent, he had nothing to fear.
