"So will I sign mine," said Mary quickly. "I couldn't take it."
"We can argue that out when you come back," said Jack. "There's not a minute to lose. Davy's got the horses. Make sure you have a lead pencil to write on the posts. After you've signed them get back without running into the governor's party if you can. I don't want the storm to break until I am there to receive it."
Ten minutes after Sir Bryson with Baldwin Ferrie and three Indians, had pushed off from the bank, Mary and Davy Cranston sauntered inconspicuously away from camp, and, mounting their horses outside, set off at a dead run west on the Fort Erskine trail.
X
A CRUMBLING BRAIN
Jack set about to fill his anxious day as full as possible with small tasks. Along the shore toward the mouth of the canyon he found another dugout sticking out from among the bushes, and he pulled it out to put it in repair in case a second boat should be required. It needed new cross-pieces to hold the sides from spreading.
While he was seated on a boulder whittling his little braces out of snowy poplar, Garrod came shambling over the stones toward him. Jack, seeing the high-powered rifle he carried, turned a little grim, and while apparently going on with his work, watched the other man narrowly. His ideas covering Garrod had taken a new direction since he had talked with Mary.
Garrod came slowly, pausing, starting jerkily, fluctuating from side to side. When he thought Jack's eyes were upon him he turned his back like a child, and made believe to look off up the river. His eyes were blank and lustreless, but close-hid under the thickened lids glimmered a mean furtive sentence. There was no striking change in him; the canvas suit was still in fair condition; he shaved every morning from force of habit; and when he was spoken to he could still answer with sufficient intelligence. But any one experienced in diseased mental states would have recognized at once that this man was in no condition to be trusted at large with a gun.
Among the members of Sir Bryson's party there existed an entire absence of formality together with an entire absence of intimacy. They were not curious about each other, consequently Garrod's state excited no remark. True, Mrs. Worsley wondered a little, but she had always felt an antipathy to Garrod; as for the others, they merely said, "Queerer than ever," and dismissed him with a shrug.
Jack, watching the wavering figure approaching him now, thought of the reckless, hawk-eyed youth of five years before, and was made thoughtful by the change. "Gad! Life has had him on the toaster," he thought.