Part 52 (2/2)

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.

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