Seaforth's face was troubled as he answered her. "It is a little difficult to put into words, and if it was anybody else than Harry I would not try. Still, Alice Deringham is almost as much to him as you are to me—and I don't think she knows the truth, you see."
Nellie Townshead flushed a little, and there was a trace of anger in her eyes. "If Miss Deringham is punished for her wicked pride what is that to you?"
"Nothing," said Seaforth quietly. "Still—because of what I saw at the ranch—I am sorry for her, and Harry, who has been a very good friend to me, is being punished too. We have so much, you and I, and he has nothing now."
The girl did not answer him for at least a minute, and appeared concerned about something that rattled in the bicycle. Then she stopped and looked up at the man with a great tenderness in her eyes.
"You want to tell her? Well, it will be very difficult, but I will do it for you."
Seaforth stooped and kissed the little ungloved hand on the bicycle reverentially. "I don't know how I asked you, and knowing how much has been given me I am almost afraid," he said.
Nellie Townshead smiled at him, but she said nothing further until they parted, and Seaforth turned back towards Vancouver city. He was brimming over with good-will to everybody when he reached it, and as it happened found storekeeper Horton, who came down there occasionally, waiting for him. Horton was by no means a genius or well versed in legal procedure, but he had a ready wit, and Seaforth felt prompted to tell him the story of their first disastrous march, which Alton had hitherto but partially narrated, though he suppressed its final incident. Horton listened gravely with his most magisterial air.
"Harry's no fool, but he don't know everything," he said. "Now I see where you and me can take a hand in."
"Yes?" said Seaforth thoughtfully.
Horton nodded. "It was Damer who recorded your claim."