Dick Goodine nodded. "Cross my heart. So help me God," he said.
The flush of rage slipped down from David's brow and face like a red curtain. He moistened his lips with his tongue.
"Then it's the curse of them two marks on the card!" he whispered. "It's the curse of them two red crosses!"
"Rot!" exclaimed Mr. Banks. "Just because Goodine didn't fire your camp, you jump to the conclusion that the devil did it. Rot!"
"There's nobody else would do it but Dick Goodine," returned David sullenly, "and if you say he didn't, well then—but lookee here! Who cut half through that pole? Goodine did that, anyhow! Molly Canadian told me where she found it. You can't git out of that, Dick Goodine!"
"That's so?" replied Dick. "You'd best go home and take a pill, Davy."
"Molly told us where she found it, too," said Rayton. "I call it a mighty clever piece of spruce, to crawl out of the eddy at the tail of the rapid, and lie down on top of a flat rock. How does it look to you, Marsh?"
David frowned, and glanced uncertainly at Mr. Banks.
"That's queer," he admitted, "but I guess it don't alter the fact that the pole had bin cut. Look at it! It was cut halfway through! And there's the man who cut it, say what you please! He was the last but myself to take it in his hands."
"I was the last, but you, to handle it afore it was broke," replied Dick Goodine calmly, "but somebody else has bin at it since it broke. Who fished it out o' the river and laid it on the rock, high and dry, for Molly Canadian to find? When you know that, David Marsh, you'll know who made the cut in it. But one thing I'll tell you—I didn't do it. If I'd wanted to smash yer durned silly arm, or yer neck, I'd have done it with my hands. So don't call me any more names or maybe I'll get so mad as to forget yer not in shape to take a lickin'. That's all—except I'm sorry yer havin' a run o' bad luck."