“We are wasting time,” he said. “Still, I warn you that the State will hold you responsible if you turn that man loose again. Our wishes can still command a certain attention in high places.”
Cheyne smiled coldly. “I shall be quite prepared to account for whatever I do. The State, I fancy, is not to be dictated to by the cattle-men’s committees. It is, of course, no affair of mine, but I can’t help thinking that it will prove a trifle unfortunate for one or two of you that, when you asked for more cavalry, you were listened to.”
“Well,” said the Sheriff dejectedly, “I quite fancy it will be; but I’m not going to worry. The cattle-men made it blamed unpleasant for me. What was I superseded for, any way?”
“Incapacity and corruption, I believe,” Cheyne said drily.
Clavering stood still a moment, with an unpleasant look in his eyes, but the Sheriff, who seemed the least disconcerted, touched his arm.
“You come along before you do something you will be sorry for,” he said. “I’m not anxious for any unnecessary trouble, and it would have been considerably more sensible if I had stood in with the homestead-boys.”
They went away, and Cheyne led Larry, who had been confronted with them, back to where Hetty was sitting.
“I understand the men left your father behind, some distance back,” he said. “He was more fatigued than the rest and his horse went lame. Your husband’s case will have consideration, but I scarcely fancy he need have any great apprehension, and I must try to make you comfortable in the meanwhile.”
Hetty glanced up at him with her eyes shining and quivering lips. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Larry, I am so tired.”
Cheyne called an orderly, and ten minutes later led her to a tent. “Your husband placed you in my charge, and I must ask for obedience,” he said. “You will eat and drink what you see there, and then go to sleep. I will take good care of Mr. Grant.”