"'In reply to your letter, I have nothing new to say and believe I have already made my intentions plain. It would be useless for you to trouble me with any further proposals.'"
Then Blake folded the letter and put it into his pocket.
"Now," he said, "I think I see. The man had been trying to bleed the Colonel and got his answer."
"Is that all?" Harding asked.
"Well," said Blake, "I believe it proves your conclusions right. I won't go into particulars, but where my uncle and cousin are threatened I'm, so to speak, the leading witness for the defence and it wouldn't have suited Clarke to let me speak. No doubt, that's why he took rather drastic measures to put me out of the way."
"Then you never mean to question the story of the Indian affair?"
"What do you know about it?" Blake asked curtly.
Harding laughed. "I believe I know the true one. Haven't I marched and starved and shared my plans with you? If there had been any meanness in you wouldn't I have found it out? What's more, Benson knows what really happened and so does Colonel Challoner. How else could Clarke have put the screw on him?"
"He doesn't seem to have made much impression; you have heard the Colonel's answer." Blake frowned. "We'll drop this subject. If Challoner attached any importance to what you think Clarke told him, his first step would have been to send for me."
"I expect you'll find a letter waiting for you at Sweetwater," Harding rejoined.