Part 51 (2/2)

”There are troopers at Westerhouse across the mountains?” she asked.

”I believe there is a strong detachment and a very capable officer.”

Grace sat silent a moment before she spoke again. ”Father,” she said, ”I want you to make a bargain with Reggie Esmond for me. On two conditions I am willing to tell you how he can bring those troopers in. You are to be the Gold Commissioner and peacemaker, but nothing else. As there will be two police officers, they will not want you as major. Then there must be an indemnity for Mr. Sewell and Ingleby.”

Coulthurst gazed at her in blank astonishment. ”You are quite serious?

You mean what you say?”

”Of course! I can tell you--on those two conditions--how to bring the Westerhouse troopers in.”

Coulthurst banged his hand down on the table. ”Then I think there will be an end of the trouble--and the affair could be arranged to meet your views. But however did you find the way into the Westerhouse country?”

Grace looked at him steadily, though there was a little more colour than usual in her face. ”That does not concern Reggie Esmond or you. Hadn't you better go over and see him?”

It was getting late, but Coulthurst went straightway; and as the result of it Esmond and two troopers set out with a hand-sled early next morning for a certain peak that overhung a gorge through the barrier-range that cut off the Westerhouse country. He could not pa.s.s up the valley, but that was no great matter since the peak could be seen leagues away. It was a long journey, and he had intended going no farther than the gorge with the troopers, but he was not destined to get even there.

On the second day they came on a tree lying across their path with its branches interlocked among the shattered limbs of a neighbor so that the great trunk was sharply tilted, an obstacle which is frequently to be met with in that country. As the undergrowth all round was tall and thick, Esmond and one trooper swung themselves upon the log to see if they could find an opening, and made their way along it until they came to a branch where the trunk was high above the ground. The trooper crept round it, and then, as Esmond came after him, there was a crash and a shout, and the trooper who had stayed below saw his officer vanish amidst the rattling twigs. It was several minutes before they could reach him, and then he was lying, with a grey face, and with one leg changed in its usual contour and significantly limp. He looked up with a grin of pain when the first trooper bent over him.

”Gone at the thigh-bone. I felt it snap,” he said. ”Simpkin will get me home on the sled, but you'll go on, Grieve, and tell Captain Slavin how we are fixed. He will come in with every man available.”

”I guess I'd better see you safe back, sir,” said the trooper.

Esmond stared at him fiercely, though his face was awry with pain.

”You'll go on,” he said.

Then he winced, and, moving a little, fell over with his face in the snow, and, because the boughs he had fallen among were thick, it was two hours before the troopers got him out and on the sled. It was not altogether astonis.h.i.+ng that they managed to compound the fracture during the operation. After that Grieve pushed on alone, and he was, as it happened, from the wild bush of Northern Ontario, which, though the trees and rocks are smaller, is a very similar country. In the meanwhile Simpkin headed back for the valley with the sled, and it was not his fault that three nights of bitter frost overtook him on the way. Indeed, if he had not been an exceptionally resolute man, inured to fatigue, it is very probable that Esmond would have frozen before they reached the outpost. On the morning after they got there a trooper appeared before the miners' barricade without his carbine and hailed the men on guard.

”Have you brought along the American who fixed up Jackson's foot when he smashed his toes, boys?” he asked.

The man who had nursed Tomlinson climbed up on the log. ”I'm here,” he said. ”Is anybody wanting me?”

”I guess Captain Esmond does,” said the trooper. ”He fell off a log two or three days ago, and his leg-bone has come right through. The corporal can't get it back inside him. If you can see your way to do anything, we'd be much obliged to you.”

”Did Captain Esmond send you?”

”No, sir,” said the trooper, ”he didn't. He's way too sick to worry about anything.”

The American smiled at Ingleby, who stood beneath him. ”It's very probable! A compound fracture of the femur is apt to prove rather serious at this temperature, especially if our friend the corporal has been trying to reduce it. We don't owe the man anything, but I guess I'd better go along.”

”Of course!” said Ingleby simply, and in another minute the doctor was on his way to the outpost with the trooper.

It was evening when he came back with news of Esmond's condition, which, it appeared, was serious, and Sewell forthwith set out for the Gold Commissioner's dwelling. He did not see Grace at all, and Coulthurst granted him only a two minutes' interview.

”It is quite out of the question that I should worry Captain Esmond now,” he said. ”Unless you are prepared to make an unconditional surrender, which I should strongly recommend, there is nothing I can do for you.”

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