CHAPTER XVII
The Blackguard, coming to the mill at high noon, found it a smouldering ruin, and the woods above a smoking waste, full of charred trunks. Going round by way of the Tough Nut Claim, he gained the upper moorland, wrapped in a choking dry mist, out of which rose the Throne cabins, gaunt, spectral, desolate. The doors were locked, the windows barred hastily across with a few rough planks, the stable empty. Down the hills he rode, his black horse lathered with sweat, his face haggard as he followed the trail of three riders. Ramsay had led, Miss Violet followed, Burrows taking the rear, all down the swaying curves of the steep places, and along the sinuous path through heavy timber. They had not stayed to even pack their clothes; they had not watered their horses at the spring; they had moved before daybreak, to judge by the blundering course, and Miss Violet had left here and there tokens, as though he needed any further incentive, shreds of white among fallen leaves, torn from a handkerchief.
At last the Blackguard drew rein at the foot of the mountains. He looked towards the camp where lay Arrapahoe Bill, tended by the Mexican, recovering from an interview with a grizzly bear; he looked along the trail toward the Mission, whither, to judge by the scraps of cambric, Miss Violet had been carried much against her will; and he looked across the valley to where the tents of the Mounted Police encampment glimmered white in the afternoon sun. It was useless to trouble the cowboys, useless to ride to the Mission unless he had some sort of authority for interference; better to get help from the camp. Trusting that the Padre would have sense enough to delay the travellers, he set off at a hand-gallop for Wild Horse Creek.
By mid-afternoon he gained the camp, an hour later rode out again on a fresh horse, accompanied by Dandy Irvine. Both men were armed, both in uniform, for they rode this time on Her Majesty's service.
"Do you know," said Dandy, while they splashed across the ford, "that this was to have been your wedding-day?"
"Was to have been? It is my wedding-day."
"Do you know that the Colonel went off alone this morning, bound for the Mission?"
"To give the bride away," said the Blackguard, grinning. "I knew he would keep his promise."
Gaining the top of the bench-land, they rode off at a canter across the valley, through meadows scathed with an early frost, by poplar bush, where the leaves hung sere and yellow, or fluttered dead to earth. The wind was keen from the north, the sky was overcast with wintry cloud, and distant woods loomed faint in a bluish haze.
"How do you know," asked Dandy, "that they fired the mill? It might have been accident."
"I'm not quite blind," answered the Blackguard. "There was a five-gallon can of kerosene lying outside the ruins."
"Well?"
"It was empty."
"What of that?"
"It was new, without a dint from being knocked about, or any dirt from having been used for filling lamps. Whoever burned the mill poured five gallons of oil over the kindlings, then chucked the empty can out through the door."
"What else?"
"Beside the can lay a half-burned torch of paper, thrown away as the blessed incendiary ran for his blessed life."
"Did you keep the torch and can?"
"Left them untouched for evidence. D'ye take me for a two-months' rootie?"
"No; but I'm just about half sorry for the great inventor."
Night had fallen when the two policemen rode up to the Mission-house. Within, Miss Burrows, the Colonel, and the Curate were playing an innocent game of cards; without, in the porch, sat Mr. Burrows and the Tenderfoot disputing hotly, but they brought their discussion to an abrupt close at the sight of Mounted Police.
"Good-evening, Mr. Irvine," said Burrows easily, as the Corporal dismounted, handing his rein to La Mancha. "You'll find your commanding officer inside the house, playing with my niece a game called animal grab."
The Tenderfoot was staring hard at La Mancha as he led the horses away.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Burrows,"—the Corporal produced two blue documents from his breast-pocket,—"the game I have come to play here is called human grab. You, Mr. Burrows, and you, Mr. Ramsay, are my prisoners."
"What?"
Dandy Irvine presented the warrants, but the violent expostulations of the prisoners brought the Curate and the Colonel hurriedly to the door.
"What's all this?" said the Colonel. "Why, Corporal Irvine, surely you've made some mistake?"
Dandy saluted. "Will you look at the warrants, sir?"
The Colonel took one, glanced at it by the lamplight within, and handed it back to Corporal Irvine. "This is very serious, Mr. Burrows,—a charge of arson cannot be lightly passed over, and Corporal Irvine has only carried out his orders."
The prisoners were loudly protesting their innocence, Mr. Burrows declaiming on points of law and usage; Mr. Ramsay almost in tears; but the Colonel required their silence.
"Are you alone, Irvine?"
"No, sir. Constable La Mancha is with me. He has taken the horses round to the corrall."
"Go, then, tell him to saddle the prisoners' horses and my own. I will be responsible till you return. Padre," he turned to the Curate, "may Miss Burrows remain as your guest?"
Constable La Mancha was at the back door embracing Miss Burrows when Dandy called him away. "Come, none of that," he said briefly; "I want you at the stables."
"All right, Corporal,"—La Mancha went on embracing Miss Burrows,—"be with you in a minute."
"Don't cry, dear, there's nothing to frighten you; but I had to get your Uncle out of the way."
"But he's innocent!" she cried. "You ought to take me to prison for burning the mill. It was me."
"The deuce!"
"You know, dear, I had to make some sort of signal."
"To bring me, eh? Well, I don't object to signalling—at least, not very much. Now, after we've gone, you make it all right with the Padre. Tell him the whole story, and get him up very early in the morning. I'll be back by sunrise for the wedding."
"By sunrise?" she blushed hotly; "I never said I'd marry you, though."
"No, I was much too big a blackguard, but now it's different, Miss Violet, quite different, you minx. I never burned my Uncle's mill. I was never half so wicked."
She laughed with delight at her own wickedness.
"Kiss me," he said, and that she did right heartily.
"Come, Blackguard," Dandy was quivering with impatience. "You fool, you're spoiling the whole game. Hurry up!"
So La Mancha was dragged away to the stables, where in due course the prisoners' horses were saddled, also the Colonel's grey charger. Then came the champing of horses' bits, the mounting of men, farewells, and the filing-off of a solemn procession into the night. But Miss Violet was left behind for safe keeping, who, with her humble confession, her tears, and a very few smiles, softened the Padre's heart.