it was a clear, cool morning and prescott was busily engaged throwing sheaves into his wagon. he had finished his harvest and, in accordance with western custom, had immediately begun the thrashing. part of the great field was already stripped to a belt of tall stubble, though long ranks of stooks still stretched across the rest, and dusty men were hard at work among them. wagons rolled through the crackling straw—going slowly, piled high with rustling loads; returning light, jolting wildly, as fast as the teams could trot, for the thrashers were paid by the bushel and would brook no delay. in the background stood their big machine, pouring out a cloud of smoke that stretched in a gray trail across the prairie, and filling the air with its harsh clatter.

it was a scene of strenuous activity, filled with hurriedly moving figures, but its coloring had lost something of its former vividness. the blue of the sky was softer, the light less strong; the varying hues of lemon and copper and ocher had become subdued; the shadows were no longer darkly blue but a cool restful gray. the rushing winds that had swept the wide plain all summer had come to rest; the air was sharp and still.

the last week or two, however, had brought no change to the inmates of the homestead. jernyngham still brooded over his loss and worried the police, his daughter 103 looked to her host for comfort, and prescott did what he could to cheer her. gertrude, indeed, was sensible of a rapidly growing confidence in him and of the abandonment of many long-held ideas. the man was not of her station: he was a working farmer, his views at first had jarred on her; and yet the attraction he had for her was steadily increasing. she made a feeble fight against it. in england she had stood on safe ground, hedged in by conventions, ruled by the opinions of a narrow circle of friends. now all was different; she had lost these supports and restraints and she was helpless without them. passion was beginning to touch her and she mistook the rancher’s gentleness and sympathy.

when prescott had loaded his wagon she joined him as he led his team between the ranks of stooks, but while she walked by his side he thought of another englishwoman whom he had once brought home with the prairie hay. he remembered how muriel hurst had nestled among the yielding grass, with something delightful in every line of her figure. he recalled her bright good-humor, the music of her laugh, the soft tones of her voice, the hint of courage he had seen in her eyes; and there was pain in the recollection. gertrude jernyngham was powerless to move him as muriel had done, but he was sorry for cyril’s sister and very considerate of her.

“we’ll have the crop off the ground before long,” he said. “then i’ll start for alberta, as i promised.”

“you will be away some time?”

“i’m afraid so. it’s a big province, though there are not a great many settlements in it yet; and i may have to cross over into british columbia.”

gertrude looked down. 104

“it is very generous of you to go, but i shall miss you. i shall feel as if i had lost my chief support.”

“so far, i’ve done nothing but talk; and talk is cheap,” he laughed.

“you have given me courage,” she said with shy hesitation. “and sympathy is worth a good deal.”

he did not respond as she thought he might have done, and she continued:

“if my father had been less obstinate, you need not have gone; he could have hired a professional inquiry agent. but you had better not say anything about your object to him—it must be a secret between us.”

“yes,” assented prescott thoughtfully, “i guess that would be wiser. you want to keep his mind at rest as far as you can. of course, there’s a big chance that i may fail.”

gertrude turned to him with a smile.

“oh, no! you are not one to fail!”

prescott was slightly embarrassed. he had a feeling that he was being gently led on toward a closer acquaintance with his companion. she was dropping the reserve she had at first displayed and seemed to invite him tacitly into her confidence. he admitted that this idea might be incorrect, but it had troubled him once or twice before.

“i expect you’ll be comfortable enough while i’m away,” he said. “mrs. svendsen’s trustworthy, and everything will be quiet after the harvesters have gone.”

gertrude did not answer, and they went on in silence to the noisy separator. perspiring men, stripped of their heavier garments, were tossing the sheaves amid a cloud of dust; cleaned grain poured out into open bags, and as each was filled two panting toilers flung it 105 into a wagon. near-by stood a great and growing pile of bags, over which the short straw would be spread a number of feet thick, to form a granary. gertrude joined her father, who was standing near the machine, moodily looking on, and before prescott had unloaded his wagon curtis rode up with private stanton.

“nothing new at the muskeg, sir,” he reported to jernyngham rather curtly, and walked his horse toward prescott.

“we were passing,” he told him, and indicated the pile of grain. “you’re not selling right away?”

“no; i’m not ready to haul the crop in to the elevators yet. i’ve one or two more pressing things to do.”

“mayn’t you miss a chance? prices are pretty good.”

prescott was on his guard; he felt that curtis suspected him.

“i don’t know,” he answered. “i guess they won’t fall much.”

“your neighbors mean to sell, though it’s quite likely that’s to meet their bills, and you always tried to get in on the first of the market until this year. it must have cost you a pile to put in that big crop.”

“it did.”

“then how have you got so prosperous since last fall?”

it was a pointed question, because everybody in the district knew that prescott had sold only a few head of cattle and a horse or two, while he would shortly have his accounts to meet.

“it’s a matter of management,” he replied. “i’ve been working on a different system this spring, and i find it pays.” then he looked steadily at the corporal, “besides, running jernyngham’s place along with mine made it easier to cut expenses.” 106

“it’s a great crop. but we must be getting on.”

he rode off and when they had left the stubble, private stanton looked at him.

“his being able to hold his wheat; which he couldn’t do last year, is a pretty strong count against the man. you gave him his chance for explaining and he made a mighty bad show. looks as if he’d got some money he couldn’t account for since last fall.”

“not proved,” returned curtis. “there’s something in what he said. anyway, he isn’t afraid of us, since he’s putting up his grain.”

“i don’t quite catch on.”

curtis smiled.

“you’re young. a guilty man would have rushed his crop into the elevators and had his money ready to light out with. if prescott pulls out suddenly, he’ll have to leave his property behind.”

“the thing’s between him and wandle,” stanton persisted.

“looks like that. anyway, as the austrian’s at the settlement, we’ll have a good look round his homestead. it’s possible that we’ll find something.”

“what made you think of searching the place again? anything in the last instructions you got from regina? you didn’t show them to me.”

“that’s so. it isn’t a part of my duty to consult you, and you’re a bit of a hustler. however, this is what i heard—a land agent in navarino sent for the district sergeant; told him he’d run across a man from sebastian at the hotel and the fellow got talking about jernyngham. it was the first the land agent had heard of the matter; but he was struck by the date on which jernyngham disappeared, because he’d had a deal with him three days later.” 107

“that’s mighty strange. if he’s right, jernyngham couldn’t have been killed.”

“don’t hustle!” said curtis. “the fellow showed the sergeant the sale record, but he described jernyngham as a big, rather stout man with light hair.”

“wandle!” exclaimed stanton. “are you going to arrest him?”

“not yet. we might get him sent up for fraud and forgery, but if he had anything to do with knocking jernyngham out, he’ll be more likely to give us a clue of some kind while he’s at large.”

they rode on and reaching wandle’s farm searched the house carefully, replacing everything exactly as they found it. they discovered nothing of importance, but as they went out curtis glanced at the ash and refuse heap.

“we might have thought of that earlier,” he said. “i’ve heard of people trying to burn up things it might be dangerous to leave about.”

setting to work with a fork and shovel, they presently unearthed a rusty iron object which stanton picked up.

“looks like a big meat can,” he remarked. “kind of curious that wandle should double it over this way and flatten it down.”

curtis took it from him and examined it carefully.

“it isn’t a meat can; top edges are turned over a wire—here’s a bit sticking out—and it’s had a handle. there’s a hinge in another place. the thing has been a box—a cash-box, i guess—one of the rubbishy kind they sell for about a dollar.”

“but what would make a man smash up his cash-box?”

“i don’t know; guess it doesn’t apply. i could understand his wanting to get rid of one that belonged to 108 somebody else, after he’d cleaned it out. aren’t you beginning to understand?”

“sure,” said stanton eagerly. “the box was jernyngham’s—we’ll find out when he bought it at the hardware store. then we’ll get after wandle.”

“you hustle too much!” curtis rebuked him, and then sat down with knitted brows. “now see here—in a general way, it’s convictions we’re out for; you want to count on your verdict before you arrest a man. it comes to this: he’s tried first by us, and if he’s to be let off, it saves trouble if we decide the thing, instead of leaving it to the jury. they won’t tell you that at regina, but, in practise, you’ll find that a police trooper is expected to use some judgment. still, there are exceptions to what i’ve said about holding back. in the interests of justice, one might have to corral an innocent man.”

“how’s that going to serve the interests of justice?”

the corporal’s eyes twinkled with dry amusement.

“for one thing, it might lead the fellow we were really after to think we hadn’t struck his trail. but that’s not the point. how much ash would you figure wandle takes out of his stove each time he lights it?”

“about a bucketful, burning wood.”

“not quite, but there’s a bucket yonder. see how many times you can fill it with the stuff we shoveled off, while i take a smoke. build up the pile to look as if we hadn’t disturbed it.”

stanton did as he was bidden, counting each bucketful he replaced, and then curtis sent him to clean out the stove and estimate the quantity of ash before he put it back. then he made a calculation.

“allowing for some of the ash slipping down the pile and for our having moved a little that was there before 109 wandle threw the cash-box in, it fixes the time he did so pretty close to jernyngham’s disappearance,” he remarked. “looks bad against the austrian, doesn’t it?”

“you have quite as much against prescott.”

“yes,” curtis admitted regretfully; “that’s the trouble. it isn’t quite so easy being a policeman as folks seem to think. now we’ll ride along and call on the hardware man.”

they mounted and soon afterward saw a buggy emerge from the short pines on the crest of a distant rise, whereupon curtis rode hard for a poplar bluff, which he kept between himself and the vehicle.

“looks like wandle coming back,” he said to stanton, who had followed him. “i can’t see any reason he should know we’ve been prospecting round his place.”

reaching the settlement they visited the hardware dealer, who remembered having sold jernyngham a small cheap cash-box about twelve months earlier. on being shown the bent-up iron, he expressed his belief that it was the article in question.

a day or two after the corporal’s discovery, the mail-carrier left some letters at the prescott homestead, and when it was getting dusk gertrude strolled out on the prairie, thinking of one she had received. after a while prescott joined her and she greeted him with a smile.

“my team was looking a bit played out and the boys will be able to keep the separator gang going as long as they can see,” he said.

“do you feel that you have to make excuses for stopping work, after twelve hours of it?” gertrude asked.

“yes,” he laughed; “i do feel something of the kind. there’s so much to do and the days are getting shorter fast.” 110

he glanced at her with appreciation. she wore a thin, black dress made after the latest london mode, which showed to advantage the graceful lines of her tall figure; the jernynghams, who seldom departed from an established custom, changed their attire every evening. gertrude had on no hat, and the fading light shone into her face. it was finely cut but cold, the features unusually good. she was a handsome woman, but she lacked warmth and softness.

“i’m in a difficulty,” she told him. “perhaps you can help—you’re a man of many resources.”

“i’ll be glad to do what i can.”

“we are expecting a visit from three old friends of ours who heard in america of the trouble we are in and want to see us. what can we do with them?”

“i haven’t room,” prescott answered. “but let me think—leslie has quite a big house, and it’s only three miles from here. now that he will have got rid of the harvesters, he might be willing to take your friends in. he and his wife are pleasant people; but i think you met her.”

“yes. i knew you wouldn’t fail us,” gertrude said gratefully. “but, after all, i feel inclined to wish they were not coming.”

there was an elusive something in her tone which did not escape prescott’s notice.

“why do you wish that?” he asked.

“oh,” she said, “it’s difficult to explain, but we have got used to the mode of life here: the few people we meet seem to understand our feelings, and we have learned to trust them. strangers would rather spoil it all; in a sense, their visit would be an intrusion.”

prescott realized that this was complimentary to him. 111 she had made it clear that he was not a stranger, but one of the people she trusted. the effect was to render him somewhat embarrassed, but gertrude resumed:

“i think we owe you a good deal. i don’t know what we should have done had we fallen into less considerate hands.”

“i’m yours to command,” he replied; and they walked on in silence for a while, gertrude glancing at him unobtrusively now and then.

she did not believe her brother dead—prescott had reassured her; and now she felt strongly attracted by the rancher. she had thrown off the restraints in which she had long acquiesced; she was driven by a passion which was rapidly overpowering her.

“you don’t suggest that the leslies should take us all,” she said.

“no,” prescott answered gravely; “i’d rather keep you and your father here.”

“then you’re no longer anxious to get rid of us?”

he colored.

“that’s true. i begin to feel i’m one of the party. then, you see, leslie’s pretty talkative and agrees with curtis. he might have a bad effect on your father; he might even shake your confidence.”

“oh,” she begged, “don’t labor the explanation. you are one of the party and our friend.”

prescott bowed.

“i’ll try to make that good. i’m going off to look for your brother in a few more days, but it will cost me something to leave the homestead now.”

he had spoken the truth. until lately the man had been bereft of all the amenities of life, but he had now grown to appreciate the society of cultured people; the 112 task of cheering and encouraging his guests had become familiar; he might even have been drawn to the beautiful woman he had comforted had not his heart been filled with the image of muriel.

“but after the summer’s hard monotonous work, a change must be nice,” she suggested.

“yes; in a way. the trouble is that i must leave my guests.”

gertrude’s eyes grew soft as they rested on him.

“we shall miss you,” she murmured. “but you must go and find out all you can; i’m afraid the mystery and suspense are breaking my father down.”

they walked on in silence for a while, and then svendsen appeared near the homestead, waving his arm.

“looks as if i were wanted,” prescott remarked; “i believe there’s a wagon to be fixed. will you excuse me? i’ll ride over and have a talk with leslie in the morning.”