"Yes," she said, quietly, "I am afraid it is."
Brooke made her a little inclination. "Well," he said, "I scarcely think anybody acquainted with the circumstances would blame you for that decision. And now I fancy Mrs. Devine is waiting for you."
XXVI.
THE JUMPING OF THE CANOPUS.
The snow was soft at last, and honeycombed by the splashes from the pines, which once more scattered their resinous odors on a little warm breeze, when Shyanne Tom came plodding down the trail to the Canopus. He was a rock-driller of no great proficiency, which was why Captain Wilkins had sent him on an errand to a ranch; and was then retracing his steps leisurely. It was still a long way to the mine, but he was in no great haste to reach it, because he found it pleasanter to slouch through the bush than swing the hammer, and the time he spent on the journey would be credited to him. He had turned out of the trail to relight his pipe in the shelter of a big cedar, which kept off the wind, when he became sensible of a beat of horse hoofs close behind him. He would have heard it earlier, but that the roar of a river, which had lately burst its icy chains, came throbbing across the trees.
Shyanne was shredding his tobacco plug with a great knife, but he turned sharply round because he could not think of any one likely to be riding down that trail, which only led to the Canopus, just then. As it happened, he stood in the shadow, and it is difficult to make out a man who does not move amidst the great grey-tinted trunks, especially if he is dressed in stained and faded jean; but the sunlight was on the trail, and Shyanne was struck by the attitude of one of the horsemen who appeared among the trees. There were five or six of them, and the beasts were heavily loaded with provisions and blankets, as well as axes and mining tools. The last man, however, led a horse, which carried nothing at all, and the leader, who had just pulled his beast up, was holding up his hand. It was evident to Shyanne that they had seen his tracks in the snow, but, as that was a peaceful country, he failed to understand why it should have brought the party to a standstill. He, however, stayed where he was, watching the leader, who stooped in his saddle.
"It can't be more than a few minutes since that fellow went along, and his tracks break off right here," he said. "I guess there's a side trail somewhere, though the bush seems kind of thick."
"A blame rancher looking for a deer," said another man. "Anyway, if he'd heard us, he'd have stopped to talk."
The leader, Shyanne fancied, appeared reflective. "Well," he said, "I can't quite figure where he could have come from. Tomlinson's ranch is quite a way back, and there's not another house of any kind until you strike the mine. Still, I guess we needn't worry, so long as he hasn't seen us."
He shook his bridle, and while one or two of the men turning in their saddles looked about them the horses plodded on, but Shyanne stood still for at least five minutes. He was not especially remarkable for intelligence, but it was evident to him that the men had a sufficient reason for desiring that nobody should see them. Then he put his pipe away, and proceeded circumspectly up the trail, with the print of the horse hoofs leading on before him, until they turned off abruptly into the bush. The meaning of this was incomprehensible, since it was not the season when timber-right or mineral prospectors started on their journeys, and Shyanne decided that it might be advisable to go on and inform Wilkins of what he had seen. Still, he made no great progress, for the snow was soft, and, after all, the Canopus did not belong to him.