But even if he observed these things Bill undoubtedly misread them. He had no reason to doubt that his presence, and all his enthusiastic plans were welcome, and so he was left blinded to any other feelings on the part of his brother than those which he verbally expressed. That Charlie delighted in his presence there could be no doubt, but as to those other things, well, a close observer might well have been forgiven had he felt sorry for the bigger man’s single-minded generosity. To the end Bill felt confident, and remained quite undisturbed.
There were still fully two hours of daylight left when Charlie finally rose from his seat upon the veranda.
He smiled down at the big figure of the brother he so affectionately regarded.
“We’ll need to set about getting your baggage sent through from Moosemin to-morrow,” he said. Then he added with a quizzical gleam in his eyes: “Guess you’ve got the checks all right?”
Bill nodded with profound gravity, and dived into one of his pockets.
“Sure,” he replied, dragging forth a bunch of metal discs on a strap. “Five pieces.”
“Good.” Charlie nodded. His brother’s unconsciousness amused him. Then, after a moment, his gaze drifted across the valley, and came to rest on the little home of the Setons, and he went on reflectively, “I need to get around a piece before dark,” he said. Then with an unmistakable question in his dark eyes: “Maybe you’ll fancy a walk around—meantime?”
Bill’s eyes lit good humoredly.
“Which means I’m not wanted,” he said with a laugh.
Then he, too, rose. He stretched himself like some great contented dog.