Nasmyth felt that Wisbech was watching him with a curious intentness.
“Gordon,” he answered slowly, “is at least as well fitted to lead the boys as I am. In fact, I might go farther than that. After all, however, there is a little more to be said.”
He stopped abruptly, and sat silent a moment or two, leaning with one elbow on the table, and the light full upon his face. There was trouble in his expressive eyes, but his mouth was tense and grimly resolute. He remembered the pleasant summer days that he and Violet Hamilton had spent together, but he also heard the roar of the river in the misty depths of the cañon, and the crash of stream-driven pines. The familiar sounds rang in his ears, rousing him to action, and something in his nature responded. In the meanwhile there was a heavy silence in the room. His companions watched him closely, and Acton, who looked round for a moment, noticed the suggestive glint in Wisbech’s eyes.
Nasmyth straightened himself suddenly. “I know what I am turning my back upon,” he added. “It is very probable that I shall never get another opportunity of this kind again. Still, I owe the boys something, and I feel I owe a little to myself. This scheme in the cañon is the first big thing I have ever undertaken. I can’t quite make the way that I look at it clear to you, but”––and he brought one hand down on the table in an emphatic fashion––“I feel that I must go on until it breaks me or I put it through.”
Wisbech noisily thrust his chair back, and Acton laughed––a laugh that had a faint ring in it.
“Well, I guess I partly expected this,” said Acton. “Mr. Nasmyth, it’s a sure thing that river’s not going to break you.”
Nasmyth looked embarrassed, but next moment Wisbech laid a hand upon his shoulder.
“Derrick,” he said simply, “if you had closed with my offer, I wouldn’t have blamed you, but I’d have felt I had done my duty then, and I’d never have made you another. As it is, when things are going wrong, all you have to do is to send a word to me.”