Scott told the whole story of the long search through the swamp, the trip to the mill, the disappearance of the logs from the raft, the discovery of the canal, the elaborate plan that had been developed to manufacture the logs and dispose of the lumber, and all the wild adventures they had after they met the strangers at old St. Joseph’s.
Mr. Graham listened quietly, commenting or asking a question now and then when some point was not quite clear. He had heard of the mill which was shipping from the old port at St. Joseph’s but he had never dreamed of connecting it in any way with the disappearance of the logs from his own forest. He seemed rather amused and very much elated over the whole thing till Scott described Qualley’s attempt to murder them in the swamp on the way over from the station. Then his face suddenly hardened and he glared at Qualley with anything but a pleasant expression.
“So you would be a murderer as well as a thief,” he exclaimed contemptuously.
Qualley did not seem to be in the least abashed. “Now let me explain a few things to you, Mr. Graham, before you get a wrong impression of this thing. The story which these boys tell sounds reasonable enough and I have no doubt they think it is true, but they are altogether mistaken.”
Murphy gave a contemptuous grunt and Scott looked his indignation, but Qualley ignored them completely.
“First, in regard to this ridiculous story of my attempting to murder them. I might rather say that they attempted to murder me. I happened to remember that Murphy had been examining my revolver on the train; I had seen him load it and unload it once or twice and I thought that I better make sure that it was in working order. I took it out to examine it and just then Murphy whirled around and knocked me down without the slightest warning. When I came to he had my gun and made me come along here with him.”
“Sure I whirled and knocked ye down,” Murphy commented with an air of comfortable satisfaction. “I’d been listening for that same little click ever since I heard you talking over your murderous plans down there on the beach.”
“For that I don’t blame them,” Qualley went on plausibly. “I admit that I had a knowledge of what was going on over there at that mill all the time, but my connection with them was not criminal. Roberts was very bitter against them because he knew that his share of the business would take him to the penitentiary if he were caught and the wallop Mr. Burton gave him there on the beach made him worse. I had nothing against the boys and wanted to protect them, but I could not let Roberts see that I did. Consequently I pretended to be as bitter and bloodthirsty as any of them. I saw them in the swamp there when I was talking to Roberts beside the creek, but I did not show them to Roberts. He would have shot them there like dogs.”
“Sounds fine,” Scott remarked sarcastically, “but it’s a wonder you did not say anything about all this when you met us on the train.”
“The public train is not a very good place to talk over such matters as that,” Qualley answered with dignity.