Morely studied the officer’s reddened eyelids.
“You recovered your sight quickly,” he said, “but you must be careful of your eyes.”
Hardy stared at him incredulously. How did this man know of his recent blindness?
“How do you know I have been blind?” Hardy asked quickly.
“I did not intend to mention it. It slipped out unawares, but it was I who found you by your camp fire and led you to the Indian’s cabin. I spoke to you in Cree so you would not recognize my voice.”
“Another obligation, Morely. Seems I am pretty deep in your debt.” The men gazed at each other silently.
“Will you continue your narrative?” There was a strange quality in Hardy’s voice. “Why did you return here, when you had planned differently?”
“I met an Indian on the trail. He told me of the factor’s and his wife’s deaths. I realized I was needed. I knew Father du Bois was fighting it alone. I had to return.”
Grimly Hardy nodded. The three sat silent. After a time Morely said: “You got the sack of mail, sergeant? It was in good condition, I trust?”
Hardy stared at Morely blankly.