He was considering the matter when he heard the stubble crackle behind him and, looking around, saw Curtis riding up. Stopping his team, he waited until the corporal drew bridle.
“Have you found him yet?” he asked.
“We have not,” said Curtis. “It’s a big muskeg and quite deep. You know the place?”
“Oh, yes, I know it pretty well.”
Curtis looked at him sharply, but Prescott seemed to be musing.
“It’s a sad thing when you think of it,” he said after a few moments. “From the little he told me, the man had hard luck all through; and that Mrs. Jernyngham should leave him just after he’d sacrificed his future for her must have been a knock-out blow. Yet I’ve an idea that instead of crushing it braced him. It pulled him up; he showed signs of turning into a different man.”
“You knew him better than I did,” Curtis replied. “I heard at the hotel he’d asked you to look after his place, given you a share in the crop.”
“He did. I’d some words with Wandle about the matter this morning; Jernyngham warned me he might pretend he had a claim. However, that’s not to the purpose; somehow I feel convinced he’ll turn up again. What motive could any one have for killing him? The only man we might have suspected—the fellow who went off with Ellice—must have been on the train bound for St. Paul.”
“He was; we wired the conductor. But the thing’s quite simple—the motive was robbery. You remember that wad of bills?” The corporal paused before he added: “Where did you last see Jernyngham?”
“At the trail-forks near my place. He rode right on; I took the turning.”