Part 35 (2/2)

Winston laughed. ”There's a want of finish in the tale, but you needn't worry about me. I didn't see a man.”

”There is rather less wisdom than usual in your remarks to-night, but I tell you I saw him,” said the lad.

He pa.s.sed on, and a minute later there was a cry from the inner room.

”It's there again! Can't you see the face at the window?”

Winston was in the larger room next moment, and saw, as a startled girl had evidently done, a face that showed distorted and white to ghastliness through the window. He also recognized it, and running back through the hall was outside in another few seconds. Courthorne was leaning against one of the cas.e.m.e.nts as though faint with weakness or pain, and collapsed when Winston dragged him backwards into the shadow. He had scarcely laid him down when the window was opened, and Colonel Barrington's shoulders showed black against the light.

”Come outside alone, sir,” said Winston.

Barrington did so, and Winston stood so that no light fell on the pallid face in the gra.s.s. ”It's a man I have dealings with,” he said.

”He has evidently ridden out from the settlement and fallen from his horse.”

”Why should he fall?” asked the Colonel.

Winston laughed. ”There is a perfume about him that is tolerably conclusive. I was, however, on the point of going, and if you will tell your hired man to get my wagon out, I'll take him away quietly.

You can make light of the affair to the others.”

”Yes,” said Barrington. ”Unless you think the man is hurt, that would be best, but we'll keep him if you like.”

”No, sir. I couldn't trouble you,” said Winston hastily. ”Men of his kind are also very hard to kill.”

Five minutes later he and the hired man hoisted Courthorne into the wagon and packed some hay about him, while, soon after the rattle of wheels sank into the silence of the prairie, the girl Maud Barrington had spoken to rejoined her companion.

”Could Courthorne have seen you coming in?” he asked.

”Yes,” said the girl, blus.h.i.+ng. ”He did.”

”Then it can't be helped, and, after all, Courthorne wouldn't talk, even if he wasn't what he is,” said the lad. ”You don't know why, and I'm not going to tell you, but it wouldn't become him.”

”You don't mean Maud Barrington?” asked his companion.

”No,” said the lad, with a laugh. ”Courthorne is not like me. He has no sense. It's quite another kind of girl, you see.”

CHAPTER XXII

COLONEL BARRINGTON IS CONVINCED

It was not until early morning that Courthorne awakened from the stupor he sank into soon after Winston conveyed him into his homestead.

First, however, he asked for a little food, and ate it with apparent difficulty. When Winston came in he looked up from the bed where he lay, with the dust still white upon his clothing, and his face showed gray and haggard in the creeping light.

”I'm feeling a trifle better now,” he said; ”still, I scarcely fancy I could get up just yet. I gave you a little surprise last night?”

Winston nodded. ”You did. Of course, I knew how much your promise was worth, but in view of the risks you ran, I had not expected you to turn up at the Grange.”

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