Foster, seeing her emotion, glanced at Mrs. Stephen, begging her to interfere, but her strained look indicated that her feelings harmonized with the girl's. Then Lawrence interposed with a grin—

"Jake always does come in time—that's one of his virtues. He's the kind of man who's there when he's wanted. I don't know how he does it, because he's not really clever."

"Lawrence," said Lucy severely, "sometimes you're not as humorous as you think."

"Then I hope I'm tactful, because you're making poor Jake feel horribly awkward. I believe he thought you wanted to kiss him and was very nearly running away."

Lucy blushed and Lawrence resumed: "He can't deny it; Jake, you know you would have run away! However, I knew what I was doing when I made him my partner some time ago. Jake has a romantic imagination that now and then leads him into trouble, but although it's perhaps as much luck as genius, when he undertakes a thing he puts it over. For example, there was the sawmill——"

Lucy stopped him with a gesture. "We are not going to talk about the sawmill. It was your—I mean our—troubles Jake plunged into, and pluck that can't be daunted is better than genius. But you're an English Borderer and therefore half a Scot; you hate to let people guess your feelings."

"Jake kens," said Lawrence, smiling. "Before very long you'll be a Borderer, too."

Lucy's eyes were very soft as she turned to Foster. "Then I must adopt their customs. I think they have a motto, 'Dinna' forget.'"

To Foster's relief, the hotel manager came in and looked at the two ladies hesitatingly. Neither took the hint and Lucy said, rather sharply, "Well?"

"Mr. Walters has come round and demands to be let out of his room. Your man's there, Mr. Foster, and won't let him move."

"Pete's splendid!" said Lucy. "I haven't thanked him yet. Perhaps you had better go, Lawrence, but take Jake."

Foster beckoned the manager and when they were outside asked: "When do you expect the police?"

"Some time to-morrow."

"Then we must watch the fellow closely until they come."

They stopped at a room on the second floor, and the manager frowned when he turned the handle of the door, which would not open.

"Wha's there the noo?" a sharp voice demanded.

Foster laughed as he answered, the door was opened, and they saw Walters, who looked much the worse for the struggle, lying on a couch, while Pete stood grimly on guard. Walters glanced at Foster.

"You're something of a surprise," he said. "We didn't expect much from you."

"That's a mistake other people have made and regretted," Lawrence remarked.

"Well," said Walters, "I demand to be let out."

Foster shook his head. "I think not. The room is comfortable, and you won't be here long."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"Hand you to the police."

"On what ground?"

"Attempted murder, to begin with," said Foster dryly.

Walters turned to the manager. "A man can't be arrested without a warrant. I guess you understand you're making trouble for yourself by permitting these fellows to lock me in."

"I don't know if it's quite legal or not," Foster admitted, addressing the manager, who looked irresolute. "Anyhow, you're not responsible, because we're going to take the matter out of your hands. Besides, you haven't much of a staff just now and couldn't interfere."

"In a way, that's so," the manager doubtfully agreed. "I don't want a disturbance in my hotel; I've had enough."

"Very well," said Walters, seeing he could expect no help from him. "But I'm not going to have this wooden-faced Scotchman in my room. The fool won't let me move. If you don't take him away, I'll break the furniture. I can do that, although I'm not able to throw the big brute out."

Foster walked to the window, which he opened. It was some distance from the ground and there was nothing that would be a help in climbing down. Besides, Walters did not look capable of trying to escape.

"We'll take him away," he said, and beckoning Pete and the manager, went out. He locked the door on the other side and resumed: "Send up a comfortable chair, a blanket, and a packet of tobacco. If there's any trouble, you can state that you acted on compulsion and we'll support you, but I rather think you can seize and hold a criminal when you catch him in the act. Stop here until I relieve you, Pete."

Pete nodded and the others went to the dining-room. After dinner, Foster took his turn on watch, but by and by Pete reappeared, holding the page by the arm. He signed to Foster, who went down the passage to meet him.

"I thought I'd maybe better tak' a look roon the back o' the hoose and found the laddie aneath the window. He had a bit paper in his hand."

Foster told him to watch Walters' door, and frowned at the lad.

"I reckon you'd sooner keep out of jail."

"Sure," said the lad, with an effort at carelessness; "I'm not going to get in."

"Well," said Foster grimly, "you're taking steep chances just now. The police will be here to-morrow and there'll be trouble if they know you tried to help their prisoner escape. Where's the telegram he threw you down?"

"It wasn't a telegram."

"A letter's just as bad. The wisest thing you can do is to give it me."

The lad hesitated, but let him have the crumpled envelope. "I was to give it one of the train hands when the next freight stops for water."

Foster opened the envelope, which was addressed to Telford at the mining town. The letter was written guardedly, but after studying it with knitted brows he thought he understood its purport.

"How much were you to get for sending this?" he asked.

"Mr. Walters threw me three dollars. I allow I'd have to give something to the brakesman."

"After all, I don't see why you shouldn't deliver the thing," Foster said thoughtfully. "That means you can keep the money, but as the brakesman's not allowed to carry letters, he'll probably want a dollar. Wait until I get a new envelope."

The boy went off, looking relieved, and Foster returned to his chair at Walters' door. On the whole, he thought he would hear something of the gang on the morrow, and if his suspicions were correct, looked forward to an interesting meeting. Telford had been asked for help, which he would try to send. The west-bound freight had not passed yet, and if it came soon, should reach the mining town early in the morning. Foster lighted his pipe, wrapped the blanket round his legs, and opened a book he had brought.

Next day two policemen arrived in a light wagon and took Walters away. Lawrence was compelled to go with them, and although but little disturbance was made, Foster imagined all the occupants of the hotel knew about the matter. He had ground for regretting this, and kept a close watch on the page whose duties were light just then, which enabled him to wander about the building and see what was going on. He expected to hear something when the train from the coast arrived, but took care to be about when the express from Montreal was due. He had a suspicion that Daly had gone up the line.

The west-bound train came first, and Foster, who had sent Pete to the station, sat in the veranda, where he could see anybody who entered the hotel. The train stopped and went on again, but nobody came up the road, and after a time Pete returned. Three passengers had got down, but they looked like bush ranchers and had taken the trail to a settlement some distance off. Pete, however, did not know Daly, and Foster was not satisfied. He thought the fellow might have bought a cheap skin coat such as the bush ranchers wore. Going out, he walked through the wood that grew close up to the back of the building. After all, Daly might try to find out something from one of the servants before coming to the front entrance.

The sun had sunk behind the range and the light was dim among the pines. The air was keen and a bitter wind that came down the valley in gusts rustled the masses of heavy needles, while the roar of the river throbbed among the stately trunks. This was in Foster's favor, because he had to make his way between fallen branches and through thick undergrowth, and wanted to do so without being heard. He was a good hunter and bushman, and did not think there was much risk of his being seen.

For a time he heard nothing suspicious and began to feel keen disappointment. He had hoped that Walters' message would bring Daly to his rescue, but it looked as if it had not done so. Then, as he stood nearly breast-high among dry brush and withered fern, he heard a faint noise. Not far off, a narrow trail led through the trees to the back of the hotel. Standing quite still, he searched the wood with narrowed eyes.

It was shadowy all around him, but where the trees grew farther apart their tall straight trunks cut against the glimmer of the snow. The noise had stopped, but he could see anybody who crossed the nearest opening, and waited, tense and highly-strung. Then he heard steps coming from the hotel, and an indistinct object emerged from the gloom. It was a man, taking some care to move quietly. When he got nearer, Foster, knowing there was dark brush behind him, thrust his arm into the fern and made it rustle as a gust of wind swept the wood.

The man, who wore an old skin coat, stopped and looked round, and Foster saw his face. It was Daly, and he seemed uncertain if the wind had made the noise or not. After standing motionless for a few moments, he took out his watch, and then moved on again as softly as he could.

The meaning of this was plain. Daly had learned that Walters had been taken away by the police and had concluded that Lawrence meant to fight. As it was too late to interfere, he meant to make his escape. Foster resolved to prevent this if he could, but Daly had the advantage of an open trail, while he was entangled in the brush. He crept out and pushed through the wood as fast and silently as possible, but when looking for a way round a thicket caught his foot and fell among some rotten branches with a crash. He got up, growling at the accident, for there was no use in following the other after this, although he did not feel beaten yet. Daly no doubt hoped to get away by the Montreal express, but would hide in the bush until the last moment.

Foster went back to the hotel for Pete, and leaving a note for Lawrence, dressed for a journey and took the road to the station. On reaching a bend, however, he plunged into the wood and made his way to the line, beside which he and Pete crept in the gloom of the trees, and only came into the open for a few yards near the agent's shack. Here they sat down behind a big water tank and Foster felt satisfied. If they had reached the station without being noticed, they would find Daly when he got on board the train, and if he had seen them, they had cut off his best chance of escape.

It was nearly dark and very cold, but Foster was glad the train was late. By and by he got up and lighted his pipe, though he was careful how he held the match. If Daly was hiding near, he did not want the fellow to see his face, but the latter would not expect anybody who might be on his track to smoke. Strolling carelessly round to the front of the shack, Foster opened the door and asked the agent: "Are you going to stop the east-bound?"

"I am," said the other. "Got a wire to hold her up."

"Ah," said Foster. "I expect we can get tickets on board, but if you don't mind, we'll wait in here. It's freezing pretty fierce."

He imagined that Telford or another of the gang had sent the telegram, and sat down when Pete came in. He heard the wind among the pines and the humming of the telegraph wires, but for a time this was all. Then a faint throbbing came up the valley and got louder until he could distinguish the snorting of a locomotive.

The snorting stopped, a bell began to toll, and with lights flashing the cars rolled past the shack. Foster waited a moment or two, standing at the window, and then as the conductor called "All aboard" saw a man run along the line and jump on to the step of the end car. Then, beckoning Pete, he dashed out and got on board as the train began to move.

It was with a thrill of triumph he sat down in a corner as the cars gathered speed. They would not stop for some time and the game was in his hands at last. The long chase was ended; he had run Daly down.



XXXI

DALY SOLVES THE PUZZLE

The train was speeding along the hillside when Foster took Pete with him and walked through the rocking cars. As he crossed the platforms between them he met an icy wind and saw the dark pines stream by. It was obvious that the track was nearly level and the train running fast, for dusky woods and snowy banks flung back a rapid snorting and a confused roll of wheels. There were not many passengers and nobody seemed to notice Foster, until as they entered a car near the end a man raised a newspaper he was reading so that it hid his face. As they left the car Foster thought he heard a rustle, as if the paper had been lowered, but did not look round. The thing might have no meaning and he did not want to hint that he was suspicious.

He felt anxious but cool. Daly was the cleverer man and the game they must play was intricate, but Foster thought he had the better cards. The last car was empty except for two women, and leaving Pete there, he went through to the smoking compartment at its end. It had only one occupant, who looked up as he came in, and he calmly met Daly's gaze. The fellow had his hand in his pocket and his face was rather hard, but he did not show surprise or alarm.

"Well," he said, "we have been looking for one another for a long time and at last have met."

Foster sat down opposite. "That's so. When we began, you were looking for me, but since then things have, so to speak, been reversed. I've followed you across England and much of Canada."

"I've wondered what accounted for your boldness."

"It looked as if you knew, but if you don't, I'm going to tell you," Foster replied. "But I'd sooner you took your hand out of your pocket. It would be dangerous to use a pistol, because my man's in the car. Then I left a plain statement of all I know and surmise about you, with instructions for it to be handed to the police if I don't come back."

Daly removed his hand and took out a cigarette. "You're not such a fool as some of my friends thought, I suspected this for some time."

"We'll get to business," Foster rejoined. "I want to get it finished, although I don't think we'll be disturbed."

Daly gave him a keen glance, which Foster did not understand then, and the latter resumed: "How did you find out enough about Featherstone to enable you to blackmail him?"

"I was secretary to the man he robbed; as a matter of fact, I stole one or two of his private papers. I don't know that I meant to use them then, but was afterwards in need of money and saw how it could be got. The documents prove your partner's offense."

"You began by extorting money, but your last object was to suppress the evidence my partner could give about the cause of Fred Hulton's death."

"Ah!" said Daly. "I wonder how much you or Featherstone know about that. As there are no listeners, we can be frank."

"Very well. You claim to have documents that give you some power over Featherstone; I have others that give me power over you. Have you got yours here?"

Daly smiled. "I have not. They're kept where nobody but myself could find them."

"I see," said Foster. "Any money you could extort from Featherstone was to be your private perquisite and not shared with the gang! Well, I've brought my documents for you to examine. This is a traveler's circular check for yourself, and this is an ordinary bank check for another man. Taken alone, they don't prove very much, but I'll try to show how they link up with other matters."

He related how Carmen had given him the packet and his adventures in Newcastle, and when he finished Daly nodded.

"On the whole, you don't argue badly."

"I expect a lawyer prosecuting for the Crown would argue it better, particularly if I was ready to go into the witness-box. Then, of course, there's Featherstone's evidence."

For a moment Daly looked alarmed, but recovered his tranquillity without much effort, and Foster saw he had to face his first serious difficulty, though there was another. If Daly knew how little Lawrence could really tell, it would be hard to deal with him.

"Something depends on the importance of Featherstone's evidence."

"Your accomplice thought it important, since he tried to throw him down the elevator shaft," Foster rejoined. "Anyhow, Featherstone saw the man who killed Fred Hulton."

Daly's smile rather disturbed him. "Then it's strange he said nothing about it at the inquiry, and when he was in the factory passage spoke to the man he saw as if he was the night guard."

"That's so. You probably know more about the methods of the police than I do, but I understand they now and then keep something back, with an object. Then Featherstone is not a fool. He was satisfied to answer the questions he was asked. You mustn't take it for granted he didn't know the man was a stranger."

There was silence for some moments while Daly pondered this, although Foster imagined he had carefully weighed the thing before. Then he asked abruptly: "Did your partner think he saw me?"

"No," said Foster, who resolved to tell the truth.

Somewhat to his surprise, Daly made a sign of acquiescence. "Very well! You are near the mark, and I'll tell you what happened. There's not much risk in this, because no Judge would admit as evidence something you declared you had been told. Besides, I'll own that it's an unlikely tale. I was not at or near the factory that night, but I had done some business with Fred Hulton. The lad was a gambler and I'd lent him money; as a matter of fact, I never got it all back. However, a man who now and then acted as my agent learned something about the customs of the factory and went there the night he met Featherstone. But he did not shoot Fred Hulton."

"Then how was the lad killed?"

"He shot himself; in a way, by accident."

Foster looked at Daly with ironical surprise. "Your friends deal too much in accidents! It was by an accident Walters left Featherstone on the snow couloir."

"It doesn't matter if you disbelieve me; this is what happened," Daly rejoined. "My friend—we'll call him the man—went to the office late in the evening and after some talk, covered Hulton with his pistol. The lad had had some trouble about his debts, because the old man would have fired him out of the business if he'd heard of them, and his nerve wasn't good. He opened the safe when he was told and the man took the bonds and went out of the office, leaving Hulton in his chair. We don't know what the lad thought, but perhaps he saw he would be suspected or was ashamed of not showing more grit. Anyhow, when the man was on the stairs Hulton came up behind and told him to stop. He had a pistol, but looked strained and nervous, and the other, who had put his away, made a rush at him. Hulton slipped on the steps, his pistol went off, and when he rolled to the bottom the other saw he was dead."

Foster was silent for a time. The story was, on the whole, plausible, and although he did not see why Daly had told it him, he thought he spoke the truth. So far he had been clearing the ground and had not reached his object yet, but Daly showed no inclination to hurry him. They were not likely to be disturbed, and although the rocking of the car and throb of wheels indicated that the train was running fast, the next station was some distance ahead. There was moonlight outside and he saw towering rocks and masses of dark trees roll past.

"Well," he remarked, "you have had a strange career. Leading a gang of swindlers must have been a change from helping a philanthropist."

Daly smiled rather grimly. "For a long time I served a strange man. Philanthropy loses its charm when it becomes a business and results are demanded from all the money given. Then my pay was arranged on the surmise that to be engaged in such an occupation was reward enough, and something must be allowed for the natural reaction. As a matter of fact, I'm not surprised that Featherstone robbed my employer. He deserved it; but I think we can let that go."

Foster nodded and was silent. Perhaps it was because the excitement of the chase was over, but he felt dull and tired. He had no sympathy with Daly; the fellow was a rogue, but he had pluck and charm. In a sense, it was unnatural that they should be talking quietly and almost confidentially, but he did not feel the anger he had expected and his antagonist was calm. Still, he was none the less dangerous and would use any advantage that he could gain.

"Now you had better tell me exactly what you want," Daly resumed.

"I want you to leave my partner alone."

"Would you be satisfied with my promise?"

"No," said Foster; "not without some guarantee."

"Then we must make a bargain. I'm able, if I think it worth while, to give you what you ask. None of my confederates know anything about Featherstone's history; this ought to be obvious if you claim that Walters meant to kill him. Very well; I can, so to speak, bury an unfortunate error of his so that it will never trouble him again. That's much. What have you to offer?"

Foster was now confronted with the difficulty he dreaded most, but he tried to be firm.

"I don't know that I need make an offer. I think I'm able to dictate terms."

"Are you?" Daly asked with an ironical smile. "Well, suppose you had me arrested? My defense would be to discredit your partner's evidence. My lawyer would prove that Featherstone was my enemy and had a motive for revenge, by admitting that I had demanded money from him and would tell the court on what grounds. You must see the danger in which you'd put your friend."

Foster saw it; indeed, he had seen it since he began the chase. He must silence Daly, but the fellow was a criminal and he could not bring himself to promise him immunity from the punishment he deserved. Yet nothing less would satisfy the man. It looked as if he must deny his duty as a citizen if he meant to save his friend. This was the problem, and there was apparently no solution. Daly, who understood it, watched him with dry amusement.

"Well," resumed the latter, "I'll make a proposition. To begin with, we'll exchange documents; the checks against the papers that compromise Featherstone."

"Which you haven't brought!"

"Just so," said Daly. "If we both engage to make no use of the documents we hold, they can be exchanged at some convenient time."

"That means I must put the police off your track and meet you again."

"Exactly; you have no choice. Besides, Featherstone must promise to keep back anything he knows and you to say nothing about your meeting with Graham."

"I can't agree," Foster replied.

"Then I'm afraid your partner must take the consequences."

Foster pondered. Daly looked determined, and, knowing his friendship for Lawrence, meant to trade on it, but Foster must try to persuade him that he counted too much on this. The fellow played a clever game, but it was nearly finished and Foster thought he still held a trump.

"We had better ascertain to whom the consequences would be worse," he said. "Featherstone risks a stained name, his relations' distress, and the loss of friends. We'll admit it, but these things can be lived down. You risk being tried for murder and certainly for a serious robbery. There's evidence enough to convict you of a share in the latter."

"That is so," Daly agreed with unbroken calm. "I'm surprised you don't see that it strengthens my demand. It's obvious that you must help me to avoid the trial, or leave me to defend myself by doing as much damage as possible. There's no other way."

Foster thought there was, so to speak, a middle way between the two, but it was hateful to indicate, and while he hesitated the car lurched as the train ran out upon a bridge. The door swung open and Daly's face got suddenly hard. A passenger from another part of the train had entered the car and was looking into the smoking compartment. It was the man Foster had seen at the hotel. Next moment Daly was on his feet and springing across the narrow floor turned to Foster with a pistol in his hand.

"Blast you!" he said hoarsely. "You fixed this. I thought you were straight!"

Foster understood the situation. The man in the next car was Hulton's detective or a police official who had known that Daly was on the train, and feeling sure of him, had resolved to watch them both. He had probably a companion, and Daly knew the game was up. The latter's voice had warned Foster that he was desperate. Escape was impossible; he meant to fight, and, suspecting Foster of treachery, would shoot him first. This flashed upon Foster in a second, and as Daly, still facing him, opened the vestibule door, he risked a shot and sprang forward.

He heard the pistol explode and his face felt scorched, but he struck savagely, and something rattled upon the floor. The pistol had dropped and he was somewhat surprised to feel himself unhurt as he grappled with Daly. They reeled through the door and fell against the rails of the platform. Then he got a heavy blow and his grasp slackened. Somebody ran through the smoking compartment, and while he tried to collect his senses Daly stepped back to the gap in the rails. Foster was dizzy, but he saw the man's dark figure against the moonlight. There was a glimmer of snow in the gloom beneath, and a confused din; the roar of wheels and a rattle from the bridge. Then Pete sprang across the platform, passing in front of Foster, and when the latter saw the gap again Daly had gone.

Pete leaned against the back of the car, breathing hard and holding a piece of torn silk.

"I was aboot a second ower lang," he gasped. "He just stepped back and left this in my han'."

Foster, crossing the platform shakily, grasped the rail and looked down. There were rocks and small trees immediately beneath him, but farther back a level white belt indicated a frozen river covered by thin snow. In the middle of this was a dark riband of water where the stream had kept an open channel through the ice. The bridge was one of the long, wooden trestles, flung across rivers and narrow valleys, that are now being replaced by embankments and iron structures. Since the frame, as usual, was open and just wide enough to carry the metals, there was nothing to save anybody who fell off the cars from a plunge to the bottom. Foster thought Daly knew this when he stepped off the platform. Looking back along the curve of the bridge, he imagined that the thing had happened when they were crossing the unfrozen part of the stream. He shivered and then glanced round as a man who had followed Pete closely took the object the latter held.

"His necktie," he remarked. "If it had been stronger, we'd have had him in handcuffs now."

"Weel," said Pete dryly, "it's no certain I wouldna' ha' gone ower the brig wi' him."

There was a hoarseness in their voices that hinted at strain, but the man, ordering Foster not to leave the car, hurried away, and soon afterwards the train slackened speed. Then he came back with another man, and telling Foster and Pete to follow him, got down upon the line. Curious passengers were alighting and asking questions, but the leader did not object when several followed the party. They had to walk some distance, and when they reached the end of the trestle it was difficult to get down the rocky bank.

The bottom of the hollow was roughly level, but part was covered with small, stunted trees, many of which had been uprooted and had fallen across each other. In the open spaces, rocks and boulders rose out of an inch or two of snow. It was plain that there was no chance of Daly's alighting uninjured there. One of the men had brought a train-hand's lantern, and they followed the curve of the trestle, which rose, black and ominously high, against the moonlight. It was not very dark among the trees and the beam of the lantern flickered across the rocks and fallen trunks, but they found nothing, and presently came to the ice, where the light was not needed.

Nothing broke the smooth white surface, and the party stopped at the edge of the water, which looked black and sullen as it rolled past, streaked by lines of foam. There was a belt of ice on the other side, but it was bare.

"Must have gone plumb into the river," said one. "We'd see him if he'd come down where it's frozen."

"Unless he was able to crawl up the bank," somebody suggested.

"I guess that's impossible," another replied, scraping the snow away with his boot. "See here, it's hardly two inches deep; nothing to soften the blow. Besides, anybody falling through the trestle would strike some of the cross-braces or stringers."

The man who had brought Foster touched his companion. "Nothing doing here. We'll stop at Green Rock and you can raise a posse of ranchers and look round to-morrow. I reckon you won't find anything."

They went back and when the train started the man sat down opposite Foster in the smoking compartment.

"We'll probably want your evidence," he said. "What's your address?"

Foster noted that he did not ask his name. "Perhaps the Hulton Manufacturing Company, Gardner's Crossing, would be best. I'm going there now."

The man nodded meaningly. "That will satisfy me. On the whole, it's lucky the fellow shot at you and Hulton told us how you stood. He didn't miss by much; there's burnt powder sticking to your cheek."



XXXII

FEATHERSTONE APOLOGIZES

Three days afterwards, Foster entered the office of the Hulton Company, where the head and treasurer of the firm waited him. It was late in the evening when he arrived, but the private office was filled with the softened throb of machinery and rumble of heavy wheels. Otherwise it was very quiet and cut off by a long passage from the activity of the mill.

Hulton gave him his hand and indicated a chair. "You have got thinner since you took your holiday and look fined down. Well, I reckon we all feel older since that night last fall."

"I do," said Foster, and added: "The mill seems to be running hard."

"She's going full blast. We've had plans for extension standing over until I could give my mind to them. I may be able to do so soon, and expect to consult you and Featherstone. In the meantime, I got your telegram and another that to some extent put me wise. But I want a full account, beginning when you left."

Foster told his story, and when he stopped, Hulton pondered for a minute or two. He somehow looked more human than on Foster's last visit; his stern vindictiveness was not so obvious, but Foster thought he would demand full retribution. Then he said—

"You are keeping something back; I reckon you haven't taken these chances on my account. There's something behind all this that concerns you—or your partner—alone. Well, I guess that's not my business."

He paused and resumed in a curt, businesslike manner: "Daly's tale is plausible and may be true, but I have my doubts. Anyhow, I'm not going to believe it because that doesn't suit my plans. We'll have Walters tried for murder."

"Although you admit he may be innocent!" exclaimed Foster. "It ought to be enough to charge him with trying to kill Featherstone and stealing your bonds. You have no evidence to convict him of the other crime."

Hulton smiled. "I don't care two bits if he's convicted or not. I want to clear my boy's name and put you into the witness-box."

"But you can't make me adapt my story to fit your charge, and the defending lawyer would object to Daly's account as hearsay and not evidence. The judge would rule it out."

"I guess so," Hulton agreed. "For all that, it would have some effect, and the judge couldn't rule it out before it was heard." He knitted his brows and looked hard at Foster. "I'm going to prove that Fred was robbed and was not the thief, and though I don't think Walters will be convicted, he must take his chance. He was one of the gang that caused my son's death, and when he tried to kill your partner knew what he was up against."

Foster thought this was frontier justice and urged another objection.

"After all, the matter's in the hands of the police. You can't dictate the line they ought to take."

Percival, the treasurer, smiled, and Hulton answered with some dryness: "That's true, in a way. But I have some influence, which will be used for all it's worth. Anyhow, I've got to be consulted. If it hadn't been for my agents, the police wouldn't have made much progress yet. However, we'll let this go. It may interest you to know that Daly's gone for good. Read him the night letter, Percival."

It is usual in Canada to allow lengthy telegrams, called night letters, to be sent at a very moderate charge when the lines are disengaged after business hours, and the treasurer picked up a form. The message related the careful search for Daly's body, which had not been found. The snow for some distance on both sides of the river was undisturbed; there was no sign that an injured man had crawled away, and if this were not enough, no stranger had reached any of the scattered ranches where he must have gone for food. Daly would not be found until the ice broke up.

"I expect you're glad the fellow can't be brought to trial," Hulton remarked, looking hard at Foster.

"I am," said Foster quietly.

Hulton made a sign of understanding and there was faint amusement in his eyes.

"Well, you have a good partner. I like Featherstone; he's a live, straight man, and if he had trouble in England, has made good here. But he has his limits; I reckon you'll go further than he will."

"No," said Foster. "I don't think you're right, but if you are, I'll take my partner along with me, or stay behind with him."

"What are you going to do now?" Percival asked.

"Stop at the Crossing and see about starting the mill."

Hulton nodded. "I guess that's the best thing. When you have got her started, come and see what we want. I think that's all in the meantime."

Foster left them and began work next day. He wrote to Lawrence telling him of his plans, but got no answer for a week, when a telegram arrived.

"Come out if you can leave the mill. You're wanted here," it ran.

Foster was puzzled, because he thought the summons would have come from Lucy if Lawrence was ill. Yet the latter knew he was occupied and ought not have sent for him unless he was needed. On the whole, he felt annoyed. Lawrence, who was sometimes careless, should have told him why he was required, and he could not conveniently leave the mill.

Since he had found his partner, he had realized how wide, in a social sense, was the difference between Alice Featherstone and a small Canadian lumber dealer, and had, with characteristic determination, resolved to bridge the gap. This meant bold planning and strenuous effort, but he shrank from neither and meant his partner to help. Lawrence, although resolute enough when things went against them, sometimes got slack when they were going well, and Foster understood that Lucy Stephen had money. For all that, if Lawrence was unwilling to keep pace with him, he must be dragged. Foster frowned as he put off matters that needed prompt attention until his return, and then sent a telegram and caught the next west-bound train.

When he got down at the flag station his annoyance returned. If there was any ground for his being sent for, he ought to have been told, and if there was not, he had been caused a loss of time that could have been well employed. He resolved to tell Lawrence his views upon this as he took the road to the hotel, but stopped with a beating heart when he entered the veranda.

Lawrence lounged negligently in a big chair and greeted him with a smile, but his father, Mrs. Featherstone, and Alice sat close by, with Mrs. Stephen and Lucy in the background. It cost Foster something of an effort to preserve his calm, but he advanced to Mrs. Featherstone, who gave him a look of quiet gratitude that repaid him for much. Featherstone welcomed him heartily, but with a touch of embarrassment, and then Foster thrilled as Alice gave him her hand. There was a curious quiet confidence in her level glance, as if she meant that she had known his promise would be kept. He did not remember what he said to Mrs. Stephen and Lucy, but was grateful to Lawrence, who laughed.

"I imagined you'd get something of a surprise, Jake. In fact, when the train stopped I pictured you coming up the road as fast as you could, divided between anxiety and a determination to tell me what you thought. Before that, when I got your curt telegram, I told Alice I could see you frowning as you filled up the form."

"I didn't know Miss Featherstone was here," Foster replied awkwardly.

"That's obvious," Lawrence said, chuckling. "Candor's one of your virtues. But what about the rest of us?"

Foster wished he had been more tactful and thought his comrade's amusement might better have been restrained; but Lawrence resumed: "It must have been annoying to leave the mill when you had much to do. The curious thing is that when you set off from the Crossing with me you declared you were tired of working for dollars."

"Mr. Foster's tiredness didn't prevent him from working for his friends," Alice interposed.

"He must work, anyhow; that's the kind of man he is, and I don't suppose he was much disappointed when he got a strenuous holiday."

Then Featherstone turned to Foster. "I imagine we both dislike formal speeches and Lawrence, knowing this, means to smooth over our meeting. For all that, there's something to be said, and now, when the others are here, is the proper time. When we got your telegram in England I was overwhelmed by gratitude and regret. I saw, in fact, what a fool I had been." He paused with a gleam of amusement in his embarrassment. "Indeed, I'm not sure that the recognition of my folly wasn't the stronger feeling. Now I'm half-ashamed to apologize for my ridiculous suspicions and must ask you to forget all about them if you can."

"They were very natural suspicions, sir. I couldn't logically blame you and honestly don't think I did."

"Well," said Featherstone, "it's some comfort to reflect that my wife and daughter knew you better. I'm glad to think you're generous, because there is no amend I can make commensurate with the service you have done us."

"In one sense, it was an excellent joke," Lawrence remarked. "While Jake was lurking in the bogs and putting up with much unpleasantness on my account, he was suspected of making away with me for the sake of an old traveling bag, which was all he could have got. But don't you think, sir, there was something characteristic about his telegram? I mean the brief statement of his success."

"My relief was so great that I did not criticize the wording, which I'm not sure I remember," Featherstone replied.

Lawrence glanced at his mother. "I expect you remember it."

Mrs. Featherstone said nothing, but gave him a gentle, understanding smile.

Then Featherstone made Foster relate his last meeting with Daly on the train. Foster had no wish to harrow the listeners' feelings, but his memory was strangely vivid and he pictured the scene with unconscious dramatic power. They saw it all, as he had seen it; the background of flitting trees and glimmering snow, the struggle on the rocking platform, while the icy wind screamed past the car, and the dark figure filling, for a moment, the gap in the rails. Then they felt his thrill of horror when the gap was empty and Pete held up the torn necktie. Foster concluded with Pete's terse statement, "He just stepped back."

"Into the dark!" said Alice softly and there was silence for the next few moments.

"He made us suffer," Featherstone remarked. "But he had pluck and boldly took the best way. It is not for us to judge him now."

Then Lawrence leaned forward with a flushed face. "In the beginning, I made you suffer, and it might have been better if I had openly paid for my fault. We'll let that go; but there's something yet to be said." He stopped and looked at the others with badly suppressed emotion. "That I have escaped a fate like Daly's is due to the love and trust that was given me in spite of my offense, and my partner's unselfish loyalty."

Mrs. Featherstone looked at him with gentle approval and her husband said, "Lawrence has taken a very proper line; but I think this matter need not be spoken of again."

It was a relief to talk about something else, and by and by the party broke up. An hour or two later, Foster, who wanted to send his foreman some instructions, met Lucy in a passage as he was going to the writing-room. She stopped him and said, "I haven't thanked you, Jake; you were careful not to give me an opportunity, but you have banished a haunting fear I couldn't get rid of. You know what I mean—Lawrence told me his story. Now he is safe."

She stopped Foster, who began to murmur something. "This is not all I want to say. I am not the only person who loves Lawrence and owes you much. Don't be too modest; urge your claim."

Foster would not pretend he did not understand and looked at her steadily. "If I made a claim on such grounds, I should deserve to have it refused."

"Then choose better grounds, Jake; I think they can be found," Lucy answered with a smile. "But show what you want. You can't expect to have it offered, for you to pick up."

She went away, leaving him in a thoughtful mood, though his heart beat. Lucy was clever and would not have given him such a hint unless she thought it was justified. Still, she might be mistaken and he feared to risk too much; then there were other difficulties—he was not rich. He went to the writing-room, knitting his brows, and stopped abruptly when he found Alice there alone. She put aside a half-finished letter, as if she did not want him to go away, and he advanced to the table and stood looking down at her.

"I did not send the telegram stating that I had found Lawrence."

"No," she said, smiling, "I know you didn't. But why do you wish to explain this?"

Foster hesitated. "To begin with, it must have looked as if I wanted to boast about keeping my promise and hint that you owed me something."

"But you were glad you were able to keep your promise?"

"I was," said Foster; "very glad, indeed."

Alice gave him a quick glance that thrilled him strangely. "So Lawrence said for you what you would have liked to say yourself? One would imagine he knew your feelings."

"Yes," said Foster steadily, "I didn't tell him, but I think he did know."

He stopped and Alice looked down at the table for a moment. Then she looked up again and met his fixed gaze.

"After all, you would have liked to have my gratitude?"

There was something in her face that stirred his blood, and forgetting his drawbacks he made a reckless plunge.

"I wanted it tremendously, but it wasn't enough."

"Not enough! Aren't you rather hard to satisfy?" she asked with a hint of pride that deceived but did not stop him.

"I'm afraid I'm very rash," he answered quietly. "You see, I wanted your love; I wanted you. But I was afraid to ask."

She looked at him in a way he did not understand, although her manner enforced a curious restraint.

"Now I wonder why?"

"You're so beautiful! I durstn't hope you'd come down to my level. I'd nothing to offer."

"You have unselfishness, loyalty, and unflinching steadfastness. Are these nothing?"

Foster felt embarrassed, but the sense of restraint was stronger. Alice had somehow imposed it and he must wait until she took it away. He thought she wanted him to finish.

"Then I knew my disadvantages. In many ways, Canada is a hard country, and I'm poor."

"Did you think that would count for very much? We are not rich at the Garth."

"I seemed to know that if by any chance you loved me, you would not flinch. But there were other things; your upbringing and traditions. I couldn't hope your parents would agree."

Then Alice got up with a quiet grace he thought stately and stood facing him. There was a strange new softness in her eyes that had yet a hint of pride.

"I don't think I am undutiful, but it is my right to choose my husband for myself." She paused and his heart beat fast as he waited until she resumed: "The evening I came to the orchard I had chosen you."

He held out his hands with a low cry of triumph and she came to him.

Next morning Foster saw Featherstone, who listened without surprise, and then remarked: "It would perhaps have been better if you had come to me before the matter went so far; but I can't lay much stress on this. The times are changing."

"I couldn't, sir. You see, until last night——"

Featherstone nodded. "Yes, of course! But all that's done with. I can't understand how the absurd notion came into my mind."

"Things did look suspicious," said Foster, smiling.

"Well," resumed Featherstone, "except for that ridiculous interval, I liked you from the beginning, as did my wife. Besides, it would be very hard for either of us to refuse you anything, and if Alice is satisfied—But there's another consideration; I understand from Lawrence that your business is not large, and although Miss Stephen wants him to extend it, this won't augment your share. Well, you understand why I must ask you to wait a year, until we see how you get on."

Foster, having succeeded better than he expected, thanked him and agreed, and a few days later returned to the Crossing. The Featherstones were coming to stay there for a time, and business demanded his attention. He had long worked hard, but had now an object that spurred him to almost savage activity. He resented the loss of time when Walters was brought to trial and he had to attend the court. The man was sentenced for robbery, and Foster's evidence, although objected to by the defense, sufficed to prove that Fred Hulton had no complicity in the theft.

A few weeks later, when Featherstone and his family were at the Crossing, Hulton sent for Foster.

"I suppose you won't want to sell the mill?" he asked.

"No," said Foster. "Business looks like booming and our chances are pretty good."

Hulton made a sign of agreement. "That's so. I reckon you could do a bigger trade than you have the money to handle. However, I guess you and Featherstone mean to continue the partnership?"

"Yes," said Foster, quietly, "we stick together."

"Although he is going to marry a lady who will invest some money in the business? If your friendship stands that test, it must be pretty sound. But I'd better state why I sent for you. Our trade is growing fast, and there's a risk of our running short of half-worked material. Well, if you won't sell your mill, you must enlarge it on a scale that will enable you to keep us going, besides coping with your other orders. I'm open to supply the capital, and have thought out a rough proposition. Give him the paper, Percival."

The treasurer did so, and Foster studied the terms with keen satisfaction.

"If there's anything you don't agree to, you can indicate it," Hulton remarked.

Foster hesitated. "It's a very fair and liberal offer. But I wouldn't like to take it, so to speak, as a reward. You see, I didn't———"

"Expect anything from me," Hulton suggested with dry amusement. "You were acting for Featherstone, but were willing to do me a favor! Anyhow, you can regard the thing as a plain business proposition. I get a number of advantages, besides good interest."

"Then I'll accept the main terms now, because I can promise for Featherstone," Foster replied. "If any alteration's needed, we can talk about it afterwards."

He left the office with a thrill of satisfaction. With Hulton's help, he and Lawrence could extend their operations and control a very profitable trade. Featherstone had told him he must wait a year, but by this stroke of luck he had made good when only a month had gone. Still, it was characteristic that he finished his day's work before he went to the hotel where the others were staying.

Featherstone frankly expressed his pleasure at the news, and afterwards Foster and Alice went out and stopped at the bridge on the outskirts of the town. There was a moon in the clear sky and the night was calm. The snow was crisp, but patches of uncovered wood showed where it had melted off the bridge, and the southern slope of the river bank was nearly bare. In the stream, fissured ice drifted down a wide, dark channel; one felt that spring was coming.

Behind the town, somber pines rolled back across the rocky wilderness; in the foreground, dazzling arc-lamps flung their blue reflections on the ice, and the lights of the Hulton factory ran far up in gleaming rows. Civilization had reached the spot and stopped for a time. The scene held harsh contrasts between man's noisy activities and the silent austerity of the wilds.

"It's a grim country," Foster said. "But one gets fond of it."

Alice put her hand in his. "I think I shall love it; I'm not afraid, Jake. There's something in the clear air and sunshine that makes one brave. Then it's virgin country; waiting for you and the others to make good use of."

Foster nodded. "Something of a responsibility! Our efforts are crude yet and the signs of our progress far from beautiful, but we'll do better by and by. Well, I'm glad you're not daunted, though I don't think I really feared that." He paused for a moment with a smile of deep content. "To-day has banished my last anxiety; I'm a wonderfully lucky man!"

"Not altogether lucky, Jake, I think. Character counts for more than fortune, and you really won success by the stubbornness you showed in the Border bogs. It would have come sooner or later, if you hadn't met Hulton."

"I'm doubtful," Foster answered. "What I meant to win was you; but in a way, that's wrong. If you hadn't given yourself to me, it would have been impossible. Well, it has been a day of triumph, and now, if you are willing, we needn't wait very long."

Alice blushed and looked up with a shy smile. "When you want me, Jake, I will be ready."

THE END