“Of—of—oh, nothing; only I think we can put this little fire out, and—and perhaps no one will be any the wiser, except ourselves. Here, let me help you!” He seized the small roll of canvas with hands that actually trembled, and began to assist Hugh in beating out the flames. “Oh, Hugh, if this is my fault, I——”
“What do you mean? You won’t say anything about it?”
“No!” whispered Alec.
“But it will be seen by daylight to-morrow. The charred logs——”
“I can smooth them off with my knife. Here! Slam it against this one! That’s the way. Again! Softly, no noise! Thank goodness, here comes Billy with the pails!”
Alec ran forward to meet Billy and to relieve him of his burden, leaving Hugh to wonder why he had spoken so strangely. Why this shrinking on Alec’s part? Had he been in any way responsible for the mishap? In spite of his proficiency in woodcraft, Alec was sometimes thoughtless, impulsive, not thorough in his methods. Carelessness was his besetting sin. But lack of courage to own up to a mistake? Surely he was no coward! If he had done wrong, he would admit it, make a clean breast of it, and “face the music.”
These thoughts passed swiftly through Hugh’s mind while he stood watching Billy and Alec pour a stream of water from the pails upon the fire.
In a few moments the flames were extinguished, but Hugh’s curiosity in regard to Alec’s desire for secrecy was not quenched. He resolved, however, to say nothing more on the subject; it was no concern of his, anyway.
“All out!” announced Billy cheerfully.
“Do you—do you think there’s been much damage?” Alec questioned, still speaking in a low and guarded tone.