"I should have been perfectly sure, if I hadn't thought he was in the penitentiary," he said finally; "but still, I don't think I can have mistaken his face, even though I only caught sight of it just for a moment down in the Indian town. I was sitting in a cabin with two other fellows and some klootchmen, and I saw him pass. There was not much light, and he was going quick, but I jumped up and rushed out after him. But in the rain and darkness he got away, if he thought anyone was following him; or I missed him."
"I'm glad you did, my boy; he would have thought little of putting his knife into you," and here I rubbed my own shoulder mechanically. "Besides, if he had seen you, that would have helped him to track me. But then, how in the name of thunder (as Mac says) did he come here at all! It can't be chance. Did you look up the San Francisco papers to see if anything was reported as to his escape?"
Harmer brightened as if glad to answer that he had done what I considered he ought to have done.
"Yes, sir, I did; but I found nothing about it, nothing at all."
I reflected a little, and saw nothing clearly, after all, but the imperative necessity of my getting down to the Forks. If Mat were loose, why, I should have to be very careful, it was true; but perhaps he might be retaken, though I did not know if a man could be extradited for simply breaking prison. And if he came up country, and couldn't find me, he might take it into his Oriental skull to harm anyone I knew. The thought made me shiver.
"Did you stay at Thomson Forks, Harmer?" I asked, to try and turn the dark current of my thoughts.
He blushed a little.
"Yes, sir, but only a day. I saw no one, though."
"What, not even Fanny?"
"No, but I wrote to her and told her I was going up the Lakes to see what had become of you."