And, then, there came to him the one possible solution to the whole difficulty. He could sweep everything away by his own sacrifice. Now, in fifteen minutes, he could still these evil voices by going back to Fitzpatrick and accepting the old man's conditions, never to communicate with Jean again and to be transferred to the far West.
Never to communicate with Jean again! Never to touch her hand or her hair! Never to hear her voice! To go on thus for a week, for a month, for endless weeks and months and years—forever! heaven! He could not do it! Had he no rights? Was he to be the helpless manikin worked by every string of evil circumstance and voice of ill?
Yet, what other way was there? He could not wantonly haul the figure of his father down from its pedestal of blameless life. And his mother and sister! Theirs would indeed be a frightful position. No, there was no other way out.
What explanation of his desertion would ever be vouchsafed to Jean, he did not know. He would try to communicate with her before he went. It would be hard on her, this separation, particularly if reasons could not be given. She would never understand. She would go through life blaming him, perhaps, in the depths of her heart... As for himself, his own future was the thing that concerned him least. He would start again, he supposed, and work up once more. Nothing mattered much, now.
Resolved to have another immediate interview with Fitzpatrick, Donald got slowly to his feet, and began to retrace his steps to the camp. He had not gone a dozen yards when a sharp voice called out, “Halt!”
McTavish swung around, and found himself looking into the muzzle of a rifle that projected from behind a tree-trunk.
But he had no sooner turned than a joyful cry rang out, and a man appeared running toward him. A moment later, he recognized Peter Rainy. Glad beyond words to see a friendly face, Donald put his arms about the faithful old Indian, and clung to him desperately, as a frightened child clings to its mother.
“Master, master, what is it?” cried Peter, amazed and frightened.
But the young man did not reply for a while. Then, he sat down with his comrade of many trails.
“Tell me what happened to you, first, and then I'll give you the queerest half-hour you ever had,” he said.