They sat silent a minute or two, but no sound came out of the silence of the pines. There was not even the murmur of water. The wilderness was very still.
Then Tomlinson laughed. "Perhaps he's not coming back."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well," said the miner, "I've heard Esmond has been worrying the boys lately. They don't seem quite fond of him, anyway. It kind of seemed to me Probyn might have lit out without you."
Now it is not often that a trooper takes the risk of discharging himself from the ranks of the Northwest Police, but the thing has been done. It was, however, unfortunate that Tomlinson made the suggestion. The corporal's face grew a trifle grim as he looked at him.
"I've no use for that kind of talk," he said. "There's not a man up here I'm not 'most as sure of as I am of myself."
"Then he's probably up there with the Indian," said Ingleby. "It would be a little risky leading a horse down the big gully in the dark."
Another hour passed, and as there was still no appearance of Trooper Probyn, the corporal decided that Ingleby was right, and, rolling themselves in their blankets, they lay down inside the tent. They were fast asleep when a beat of hoofs came out of the silence of the night as a jaded horse floundered along the hillside, and the corporal wakened only when there was a trampling of undergrowth outside the tent. He shook the blankets from him and stood up.
"Is that you, Probyn? Tether the beast and come in," he said.
There was no answer, and the corporal, stooping suddenly, touched Tomlinson's shoulder.