“Cow-bells,” Lisle explained, laughing. “In this country, they generally put them on any cattle that run loose in the timber. Some adventurous rancher has located up here, though I hadn’t expected to find one so far north. Anyway, it’s a relief; he’ll no doubt be able to let us have something to eat.”
They reached the man’s log house an hour later, and spent the day with him, enjoying a much needed rest. The next morning he supplied them with provisions and told them how to find a trail down to a wagon road; and, setting out, they safely reached a settlement in regular communication with the cities.
It was the settlement Lisle had expected to come to, and he found a bundle of correspondence awaiting him there. Before he opened it, however, he and Nasmyth supplied themselves with such clothing as they could obtain at the local store, and then demanded a bath at the little wooden hotel. They had some trouble in obtaining it, but Nasmyth was firm, and eventually he sat down to supper, clad in a blue shirt with scarlet trimmings, extremely tight-fitting clothes and daintily-pointed shoes.
“I think I’d have done better if I’d stuck to my rags, or else bought a pair of what that fellow called river-Jacks’ boots,” he commented ruefully.
Lisle was similarly attired, but he was too busy with his meal to sympathize with him, and some time after it was over Nasmyth, strolling into the private room which they had obtained as a signal concession, found him writing at a littered table. Sitting down, he watched him for a while with some slight wonder. For a number of weeks, he had seen his companion handling heavy loads, cooking, and hauling canoes round rapids with the skill of a professional packer. It was hard to disassociate him from the ranges and the bush; but now, with the pile of letters before him, he had suddenly become a business man. Nasmyth saw him answer a couple in a swift, decided manner which showed that he was at home in his present occupation. It was one of the quick character-changes which, while common in the West, are apt to bewilder the more stereotyped Englishman.
“Are you coming to England with me?” Nasmyth asked at length.
“No; I’m sorry I can’t,” answered Lisle, pausing, pen in hand. “This Gladwyne matter will probably take time and I have none to spare now. There have been some unexpected developments in my affairs. I don’t know when I can get away.”
Nasmyth was conscious of some relief. His companion would have to defer the prosecution of plans that threatened to cause trouble in England, which was something to be thankful for, though he had a strong sympathy for the man.
“Has it ever struck you that you might have less difficulty if you could be content with proving half of what you claim?” he asked. “It’s the more important part—I mean that your late comrade failed to find the cache.”
“Half a truth is not much use—Gladwyne realized that. To declare you haven’t done the wrong is a good deal less effective than pointing to the guilty man.”