“I—wish I knew,” Bill lamented helplessly. But a moment later a quick, bright look lit his big blue eyes. “I know,” he almost shouted. “Let’s hunt this gang down—ourselves.”
Kate’s gaze had been steadily fixed upon the far side of the valley, where Charlie Bryant’s house stood. Now, in response to the man’s wild suggestion, it came slowly back to his face.
“I hadn’t thought of—that,” she said, after a pause.
In a wild burst of enthusiasm Bill warmed to his inspiration.
“No,” he cried. “Of course not. That’s because you aren’t used to scrapping.” He laughed. “But why not? I’ll do the scrapping, and you—you just do the thinking. See? We’ll share up. It’s dead easy.”
“Yes—it would be dead easy,” Kate demurred.
“Easy? Of course it’s easy. I’m pretty hot when it comes to a scrap,” Bill ran on with added confidence. “And a bunch of whisky-runners don’t amount to a heap anyway.”
Suddenly Kate rose from her seat. She moved a step toward him and laid one brown hand gently on his arm. She was smiling as she had smiled at the thought of her regard for this man’s brother. There was something almost motherly now in her whole attitude.
“You’re a big, brave soul, and like all brave souls you’re ready at all times to act—act first and think afterwards,” she said very gently. “You said I was to think. Let me think now. You see, I know this place. I know this class of man. It’s the life of the police to deal with these whisky-runners, and they—they can do nothing against them. Then what are we, you, with your brave inexperience, I, with my woman’s helplessness, going to do against them? Believe me, the men who carry on this traffic are absolutely desperate creatures who would give their lives at any moment rather than go to the penitentiary. Life to them, their own and their enemy’s, means nothing. They set no value on it whatsoever. The trade is profitable, and”—she sighed—“against the law. Those engaged in it live for the excitement of fighting the law. That’s one of the reasons which makes it impossible that Charlie could be one of them. No, Mr. Bryant, I guess it’s not for us to do this thing. We just couldn’t do a thing. But we must think of Charlie, and, when we’ve thought, and the time comes, why, then—we’ll act. Fyles is a brave man, and a just man,” she went on, with a slight warmth. “He’s a man of unusual capacity, and worth admiration. But he is a police officer,” she added regretfully. “In saving Charlie from him we shall prevent one good man wronging another, and I guess that should be good service. Let’s content ourselves with that. Will you help?”
Big Brother Bill had no hesitation at any time. He was carried away by the enthusiasm Kate’s words inspired. He thrust out one great hand and crushed the woman’s in its palm.