"That is what I should expect of you," answered Ainley quickly, "but it is not for long that I ask it of you. In another hour or so, we shall be safe, I hope, then we will camp until the storm is over."
"Of whom are you afraid?" asked Helen.
"Indians! We were forced to shoot three of your captors; and those of their friends who were following on behind may feel impelled to try and avenge their deaths."
"Oh!" said the girl; a note of such evident disappointment in her tone, that Ainley looked at her quickly.
"Why do you speak like that, Helen? One would think that you were almost sorry that I had delivered you from the fate awaiting you."
"Oh, it is not that!" replied Helen quickly. "Though of course I do not know what the fate was. Do you?"
"I have an idea," he said, "and I will explain when we camp. Just now I must have a word with my men. Coffee will be ready in a few minutes; and there will be bacon and biscuit, which if not exactly appetising will be sustaining."
"I shall not mind bacon and biscuit," answered Helen, and as Ainley walked away a look of deep thought came on the girl's face.
Was it true, she asked herself, that he was afraid of the pursuit of revengeful Indians? She remembered the sledge which she had seen following behind, a sledge accompanied by only two men, and the evident anxiety it had occasioned her chief captor, and one thing fixed itself in her mind with all the force of a conviction, namely that whatever Gerald Ainley thought about these men behind, her captors knew nothing whatever about them; then she remembered the revelations made by the half-breed. He had owned that he had attacked the cabin and captured her for a price, a great price paid by a man who loved her. Was that man Gerald Ainley? It was an odd coincidence that he should have been waiting just where he was, which was quite evidently the place where the half-breed had been making for. His words of greeting made it clear that he had been expecting to meet her, but in that case how did it come about that he knew she was in the neighbourhood? Was he indeed the man to whom the half-breed was looking for the price? If so, why had he so ruthlessly shot down the men who were his confederates?
Instantly an explanation that fitted the facts occurred to her. He had shot down her captors in order to conceal his connection with them and with the attack upon the cabin. She remembered the man whom she had seen, and her odd fancy that he was a white man, and recalled her lover's conviction that no bodily harm was meant to her, though the same was not true of himself, and a very deep distrust of Gerald Ainley surged in her heart; a distrust that was deepened by her recollection of the policeman's story of the forged bill, and the sheet of foolscap which had been in her lover's possession.