The superintendent and Mr. Evans stood off by themselves, occasionally exchanging a word or two, but generally remaining silent and thoughtful. Uncle Bob sat alone in the office, thinking sometimes of his lost nephew, but more frequently of the bright and dazzling future which had so suddenly and unexpectedly opened before him. Like Arthur, he was entirely unnoticed, the men about him having no sympathy for him. Their thoughts were with Bob and his companion.
“The old fellow seems to take it very much to heart,” said Mr. Jacobs. “But it’s my opinion it is all put on for the occasion.”
“That seems to be the opinion of the herdsmen, too, if one may judge by their looks and actions,” answered Mr. Evans. “If they had the least excuse for it, they would put the dogs on him and his son and drive them out of the valley.”
“I know their temper better than you do, and I am not far from right when I say that they would serve them worse than that,” said the superintendent. “If the men thought that Arthur and his father were in any way mixed up with this morning’s work, a regiment of soldiers could not save them.”
“I would give the world, if I owned it, to know whether or not they suspect anything,” thought Arthur, who now and then stopped behind a tree or a clump of bushes to take an anxious survey of the groups about the ranch. “Why don’t they go off about their work, and let me go to my room? They needn’t blame me for anything that happened, for I didn’t suggest it, and I had no hand in carrying it out. Sam did it out of a desire to be revenged on Bob for telling Mr. Jacobs that he could not have employment on the ranch. But, great Scott! what a sight that was!” said Arthur, covering his eyes with his hands. “I don’t think I shall ever forget it.”
And he never did. The pale, despairing face which the helpless Bob had turned toward the shore, just before his boat took its final plunge, haunted him day and night as long as he lived.
Just then Arthur was startled by a rustling in the thicket close by his side (he was so timid now, that every little thing frightened him), and turned quickly, to find Sam at his side.
The latter was as serene and smiling as usual, and did not look at all like a man who had been guilty of a crime for which his life might at any time pay the forfeit.
Arthur was glad to see him on some accounts, and on others he wasn’t. As he could not bear to be alone with his accusing conscience, he wanted somebody to talk to, but he would rather it had been somebody besides Sam.
It would have been a great relief to him if the herdsman had saddled his horse and left the valley, never to return; but something told him that Sam did not intend to do anything of the kind. He was more familiar in his manner than he was the day before, and not quite so civil.