"Oh," she cried, after a few moments. "I knew that it was some mischief to us McNab was planning. I can see it all now. I thought it was you, or Conal, he was trying to get at. McNab told Donald that cattle were being moonlighted—most of them Ayrmuir breakaways and wild cattle—at the back of our hills. But he did not know that Davey was droving for Conal, not till he asked me this morning, and I told him. I didn't know myself till a few days ago, when Davey came to me after church. Then he said he'd been working with Conal, and I begged him not to any more, and told him what his father and McNab were trying to do. He promised to come home, but he never came. I was afraid to tell his father for fear he'd never forgive him, and every day I thought Davey'd be coming in the gate. McNab knew, of course. Everybody else in the Wirree seems to have known, but us, that Davey was with Conal. It was to bring our pride in the dust, to make Davey's father the shamed and disgraced man he is, he did it. But Where's Conal? How is it he's not there with Davey? Why did Davey ever go in for this business? Why are you in it? I thought that you would never be doing anything again that would bring you under the law."
The distress and reproach in her voice hurt him.
"I thought so too," he said bitterly.
He did not attempt to excuse himself; and the sightless eyes that gazed at her did not accuse.
His mind was back to the subject between them.
"This is the concern of two men, I and another," he said. "Davey was no more than a hired drover. Besides—"
"Where is Conal?" Mrs. Cameron asked.
"Away."
His tone forbade further inquiry.
There was silence a moment.