"Good morning to you, David," said the captain, halting in front of him. "Did James Harley explain his extraordinary behavior to you, last night?"
"Yes."
"Ah! And what was the explanation?"
"You'd better ask him yourself, cap. He told me not to tell."
The old man drew himself up and rapped his stick on the ground. "Confound his impertinence!" he exclaimed. "I shall ask him, certainly. He owes me an explanation. Queer way to behave before a man of my age and position! And he called me an old idiot!"
CHAPTER IV
THE TRAPPER'S CONFESSION
Old Captain Wigmore returned to his lonely but well-furnished and well-painted house, ate a reflective breakfast, smoked a cigar, and then set out to find Jim Harley. Wigmore lived with a servant or companion—a very old, grizzled, silent fellow, who did not seem to be "all there." It was from this old chap, Timothy Fletcher by name, that the people of the settlement had learned to give Wigmore the title of captain. As to what kind of a captain he had been, opinions differed.
Wigmore found Harley in the farm-yard helping a teamster get away with a wagonload of pork, flour, and oats for his lumber camp on Harley Brook, five miles away. As soon as man and load were gone, the captain addressed the lumber operator.