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Winston did not like Courthorne, but he meant to keep his bargain. As he passed the hotel more slowly a man who came out called to him. "Hello, Lance! Taking the trail?" he said. "Well, it kind of strikes me it's time you did. One of Stimson's boys was down here, and he seemed quite anxious about you."
So five breathless minutes passed, Trooper Shannon standing tense and straight with every nerve tingling as he braced himself for an effort, Courthorne stooping a little with forefinger on the trigger, and the Marlin rifle at his hip. Then through a lull there rose a clearer thud of hoofs.
"If you keep the cap down and ride with your stirrups long, as I've fixed them, anybody would take you for me," said he. "Go straight through the settlement, and let any man you come across see you. His testimony would come in useful if Stimson tries to fix a charge on me. You know your part of the bargain. You're to be Lance Courthorne for a fortnight from to-day." "Yes," said Winston dryly.
While I passed for him your lawyer found me, and I had no choice between being condemned as a criminal for what Courthorne had in the meanwhile done, or continuing the deception. He had, as soon as I had left him, taken my horse and garments, so that if seen by the police they would charge me.
Winston sat still a moment, and it was not avarice which prompted him when he said, "Considering the risk one hundred dollars is very little." "Of course," said Courthorne. "Still, it isn't worth any more to me, and there will be your expenses. If it doesn't suit you, I will do the thing myself and find the boys another guide."
Dane saw that the man was limping and white in face, and asked no more questions. It was evident to him that Courthorne would be where he was most needed, and he did what he could with those who were adding furrow to furrow across the path of the fire.
"Then it can't be helped, and, after all, Courthorne wouldn't talk, even if he wasn't what he is," said the lad. "You don't know why, and I'm not going to tell you, but it wouldn't become him." "You don't mean Maud Barrington?" asked his companion. "No," said the lad, with a laugh. "Courthorne is not like me. He has no sense. It's quite another kind of girl, you see."
Courthorne stood still, looking at her, for almost a minute, while the wild reckless devil that was in him awoke. Clever as he was, he was apt now and then to fling prudence to the winds, and he was swayed by an almost uncontrollable impulse to stay beside the girl who, he realized, though she recognized his worthlessness, loved him still.
And, if I have my way, the first man who flings a stone will be sorry for it. Still, I don't think any of them will or could afford it. If we had all been saints, some of us would never have come out from the old country." He stopped and poured out two glasses of wine. "It's a long while since I've talked so much," he said. "Here's to our better acquaintance, Courthorne."
In the meanwhile, the police trooper who had handed him the packet returned to the outpost, and, as it happened, found the grizzled Sergeant Stimson, who appeared astonished to see him back so soon, there. "I met Courthorne near his homestead, and gave him the papers, sir," he said. "You did?" said the Sergeant. "Now that's kind of curious, because he's at the bridge."
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