"Bill," said the girl, as soon as her uncle was out of earshot, "what news?"
"Two items of interest One, the very best, and the other—the very worst."
"Which means?"
"No one has the least suspicion of us; and Horrocks, the madman, intends to attempt the passage of the keg."
"Lord" Bill jaws shut with a snap as he ceased speaking. The look which accompanied his last announcement was one of utter dejection. Jacky did not reply for an instant, her great eyes had taken on a look of deep anxiety as she gazed towards the muskeg.
"Bill, can nothing be done to stop him?" She gazed appealingly up into the face of the tall figure beside her. "He is a brave man, if foolish."
"That's just it, dear. He's headstrong and means to see this thing through. Had I thought that he would ever dream of contemplating such a suicidal feat as attempting that path, I'd never have let him see the cattle cross last night. My God! it turns me sick to think of it."
"Hush, Bill, don't talk so loud. Do you think any one could dissuade him? Lablache, or—or uncle, for instance."
Bunning-Ford shook his head. His look was troubled.
"Horrocks is not the man to be turned from his purpose," he replied. "And besides, Lablache would not attempt such a thing. He is too keen to capture—Relief," with a bitter laugh. "A life more or less would not upset that scoundrel's resolve. As for your uncle," with a shrug, "I don't think he's the man for the task. No, Jacky," he went on, with a sigh, "we must let things take their course now. We have embarked on this business. We mustn't weaken. His blood be upon his own head."