A fortnight later Rupert Dale received the King's pardon and was set free. As it happened the very first man to greet him outside the prison doors was his friend, Patterson. He shook Rupert's hand almost casually, then gave him a hearty pat on the back.
"Gad, we've been in some tight corners together, Dale," he laughed. "But I thought when we got back to the old country we should find things a bit tame—no more fighting, no more narrow squeaks for our lives, no more excitement. I was wrong, eh? At any rate you stepped right into the thick of it. Glad I was here to see you come out top dog."
And Rupert nodded and gripped Patterson's hand tightly. "You're the best friend I ever had," he said huskily.
"I ought to be," Patterson grinned, "since I owe you my life. But for you I should never have got away on that black night when the Muruts were dancing round the fire ready to cut our heads off and smoke 'em over the burning embers. Lord, what a fine game it is! Think of it, this scalp of mine might have adorned some chief's sword now; or the old hag who played mistress of ceremonies might be using it on state occasions as the latest fashion in evening dress."
* * * * *
It was on a warm, spring morning in April that Marjorie Dale and Captain James Crichton were quietly married at Princetown, within sight of the prisons which had played such a strange and important part in their lives. Erstwhile Convict 381 was Captain Crichton's best man.
As soon as the happy pair had left for the honeymoon—destination unknown—Patterson, Rupert, and John Dale returned to Blackthorn Farm, and over mugs of old brown ale again drank their health.
The farmhouse itself remained unchanged, but outside there was a scene of desolation. The mine, which a few months ago had been a scene of activity, was now deserted. It was a blot on the beautiful moorlands. Though the great plant still remained, silence now brooded.
"Best thing you can do, Dale," Patterson said, "is to come out East again and bring your father with you."
"Take my boy," the old man whispered, "he'll succeed there, I know. The old country's played out, I'm afraid. But I—I'm too old now. I'd only be a drag upon him."