Farquhar was sitting with his wife and Alison on the stoop in the cool of the evening a week or two after the house-raising, when Thorne rode up out of the prairie, leading a second horse. He tethered the two beasts to a fence before he approached the house, and Alison noticed that he looked very lean and jaded. He sat down wearily and flung off his hat when he had greeted the party.
"I've come to borrow your mower, Farquhar," he announced. "I suppose I may as well get some hay in."
"You don't seem very sure about it," remarked Farquhar.
"As a matter of fact, I'm not enthusiastic about cutting that hay. I've been putting in sixteen hours a day lately, and I expect I'm getting a little stale. Among other things, I'd got most of the shingles on the house when one of the boys came along and told me I'd fixed them wrong. Then the police have been round again worrying me."
"Have you got your horse back?" asked Mrs. Farquhar.
"Yes," replied Thorne, with a soft laugh. "It was found near the railroad a day or two after it disappeared, and a friend of mine sent it along. I understand, however, that Corporal Slaney has failed to pick up Winthrop's trail."
Mrs. Farquhar regarded him severely.
"Why did you mix yourself up in that affair?"
"The thing rather appealed to me," declared Thorne. "I believe Jake was justified ethically; and anybody who takes a way that's not the recognized one has my sympathy."
"Now you've reached the point," Farquhar laughed. "On the whole, the fact you mention is unfortunate."