“There’s one point, Jack, where I can’t agree with you—you’re the only man in this district who doesn’t believe Jernyngham’s dead. It strikes me that you know more about the thing than you have told anybody yet.”
“Let it go at that,” said Prescott awkwardly, “All I could say would only bring more trouble on his people, and they’ve had quite enough.”
“Sure,” agreed Leslie, raising his hand in warning. “Sh-h! They’re coming out.”
The next moment Gertrude and her father joined the men, and after a few words with them stood still, listening. A long bluff, through which the trail from the settlement led, ran close up to the homestead, cutting against the pale green glow of the sky. For a few minutes there was a deep silence, intensified by the musical clash of cowbells in the distance, and then a measured, drumming sound rose softly from behind the trees.
“Guess that’s your friends,” Leslie said to Jernyngham. “Jim’s made pretty good time.”
The beat of hoofs grew nearer until the listeners could hear the rattle of wheels. Then a light, four-wheeled vehicle came lurching out of the bluff and Jernyngham hurried down the steps. Prescott had entered the house to tell Mrs. Leslie, and he came out as the driver pulled up his team. The occupants of the wagon, which had run a little past the door, had their backs to him, but seeing a girl about to alight he sprang forward. Her head was turned away from him at first, but she glanced round when he offered to assist her; and he forgot what the consequences of the meeting must be as he looked into the eyes of Muriel Hurst. He was conscious of an overwhelming delight, which showed itself in his shining eyes and the warm color that suddenly flushed his face; Gertrude Jernyngham, standing beside him, read what was in his heart.
The effect on Muriel was as marked. He had seized her hand and as she was standing precariously poised, ready to descend, he swung her down. Then she recoiled from him, startled, but with strong relief in her expression.
“Cyril!” she cried in a strained voice. “Why didn’t you write and tell us that it was all a mistake? We heard that you were dead!”
Then Prescott remembered and his heart sank, but he strove to gather his courage, for there was a crisis to be faced. He stood silent, with one hand clenched tight, while Gertrude watched him with hard, unwavering eyes. Jernyngham, however, had heard Muriel’s startled exclamation and hurried toward her.