"If what he told me is correct, there are still some pickings left on him."
"I don't suppose the explanation is that Clarke has some conscience, and feels that he has robbed him enough."
Harding laughed.
"He has about as much pity as a hungry wolf; in fact, to my mind, he's the more dangerous brute, because I've a feeling that he delights in doing harm. There's something cruel about the man; getting fired out of his profession must have warped his nature. Then there was another point that struck me—why's he going so far to stay with those Indians?"
"It's puzzling," Blake answered thoughtfully. "He hinted that he was interested in their superstitions, and I think there was some truth in it. Meddling with these things seems to have a fascination for neurotic people, and as the fellow's a sensualist he may find some form of indulgence that wouldn't be tolerated near the settlements. All this, however, doesn't quite seem to account for the thing."
"I've another idea," said Harding. "Clarke's known as a crank, and he takes advantage of it to cover his doings. At first, I thought of the whisky trade; but taking up prohibited liquor would hardly be worth his while; though I dare say he has some with him to be used for gaining his Indian friends' good will. He's on the trail of something, and it's probably minerals. What the prospector told us suggested it to me."
"You may be right. Anyway, it doesn't seem to concern us."
"Well," said Harding gravely, "I'm troubled about his leaving Benson alone. The fellow had some good reason—I wish I knew."
He rose to throw more wood on the fire, and they changed the subject.