"Of course!" said Barbara. "He had his hands full."
The point did not seem of the least importance to her, but she was shaken, and felt that the silence which was growing significant would be insupportable. Then a thought struck her, and she looked up suddenly at the man.
"But, now, I remember, you had the bar," she said.
"Yes," said Brooke, very simply, though his face was grim. "I certainly had."
The girl had turned a little so that the light shone upon her, and he saw the faint bewilderment in her eyes. It, however, vanished in a moment or two, but Brooke decided that if he guessed her thoughts correctly he had done wisely in admitting the possession of the bar.
"Of course! You hadn't a pistol, and it was, no doubt, the only thing you could find," she said. "I'm afraid I did not even remember to thank you, but to tell the truth I was too badly frightened to think of anything."
Brooke nodded comprehendingly, but Barbara noticed that the blood was in his cheeks and he smiled in a very curious fashion.
"I scarcely think I deserve any thanks," he said.
Barbara made a little gesture. "Pshaw!" she said. "You are not always so conventional, and both I and Grant Devine owe you a great deal. The man must have been a claim-jumper, and meant to steal those papers. They are—the plans and patents of the Canopus."
She stopped a moment, and then, seeing Brooke had noticed the momentary pause, continued, with a little forced laugh and a flush in her cheeks, "That was native Canadian caution asserting itself. I am ashamed of it, but you must remember I was rather badly startled a little while ago. There is no reason why I should not tell—you—this, or show you the documents."