At intervals the redskin raised his head to peer across the grade. Not until he was close to the stable did he appear to notice the three watchers, then he lifted a hand and disappeared behind the stable. As he wormed his way to cover Torrance spoke eagerly.
"Let him have it, Adrian. I've always had my suspicions. It's some devilish trick or he wouldn't sneak up that way. Soon as he saw us he scrambled to cover. Watch for him around the other side."
But Conrad shook his head and pushed aside Torrance's extended hand; but he did not lower the rifle.
The Indian came round the other side of the stable, as Torrance had predicted, but there was no attempt at secrecy, except that he continued to hug the ground. Torrance grunted. Tressa sighed. Conrad lowered the rifle. The Indian crawled over the back step and lifted himself to his feet. Torrance forgot every suspicion before that smile.
"You got a nerve taking a chance like that, Big Chief. If I'd 'a' had the gun you'd 'a' got your blanket full."
The Indian looked significantly at Conrad and shrugged his shoulders.
"Him no shoot Indian."
"You're too blamed sure," replied the contractor pettishly. "What's all the fuss about, anyway?"
"Bad paleface mebbe see." The Indian pointed toward the camp.
"Not likely! We could hardly see you ourselves. You better drop a postcard next time. I was just in the middle of a dream that the trestle was done and I was cashing the check in Winnipeg in thousand-dollar bills, after polishing off a few bohunks for a real bang-up finale. Then in booms Conrad here and grabs the rifle, and I wake up with the feeling them bohunks are doing the polishing on me. I was mighty near scared. By the way, we wanted you. The Police want you to identify the bohunks in that gang the other night that tried to blow up the trestle. If you'll come down to the camp with me and pick 'em out—"
"No good." The Indian shook his head. "You shoot. No save bridge that way. Others blow up. Job never done."