He did not say, “If only you had remembered one day sooner what you saw in the wood!” Hugh felt that the thought must be in his mind, so large did it loom in his own. But Oscar’s fashion of never wasting words was contagious, so he, too, said nothing.
As he opened the door to go out and feed Hulda, he heard, above the booming of the wind, a steady dull roar that was quite new to his ears.
“That is the stream that runs this side of Jasper Peak,” Oscar explained. “You could hardly believe how one night’s rain can carry it over its banks. Even less of a storm than this will sometimes make it impassable. Fortunately, where I want to go to-day is on this side and I will not have to try to cross it. But I may not be back until long after dark.”
It was not like Oscar to say “I” when there were two to talk about. Hugh noted this with a sinking of the heart.
“Oscar,” he cried, turning back from the door, “am I not going, too?”
Oscar slowly shook his head.
“I’m so sorry,” he said with evident understanding of Hugh’s disappointment, “but you see if Jake is really back we can’t risk leaving the cabin alone. The claim is nearly established now and the closer we come to the end, the closer we come to trouble. There is bound to be one more row before the thing finally goes through.”
“What sort of a row, Oscar?”
Oscar looked down at his scarred hand and smiled reflectively.
“A row like the others we have had,” he said quietly, “only this time a really good one. Good-by.”