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"I have come," said the Governor, "to say to you, Grassette, that you have still a chance of life." He paused, and Grassette's face took on a look of bewilderment and vague anxiety. A chance of life what did it mean? "Reprieve?" he asked in a hoarse voice. The Governor shook his head. "Not yet; but there is a chance. Something has happened.
"Jacques Grassette!" he cried, in consternation and emotion, for under another name the murderer had been tried and sentenced, nor had his identity been established the case was so clear, the defence had been perfunctory, and Quebec was very far away! "M'sieu'!" was the respectful response, and Grassette's fingers twitched.
What would Grassette do? It was a problem which had no precedent, and the solution would be a revelation of the human mind and heart. What would the man do? "Well, what is all this, Grassette?" asked the Sheriff brusquely.
While he was there, a landslip came, and the opening to the mine was closed up " "There were two ways in. Which one did he take?" cried Grassette. "The only one he could take, the only one he or anyone else knew. You know the other way in you only, they say." "I found it the easier, quick way in; a year ago I found it." "Was it near the other entrance?" Grassette shook his head. "A mile away."
That the day was beautiful, that the harvest of the West had been a great one, that the salmon-fishing had been larger than ever before, that gold had been found in the Yukon, made no difference to Jacques Grassette, for he was in the condemned cell of Bindon Jail, living out those days which pass so swiftly between the verdict of the jury and the last slow walk with the Sheriff.
It was four o'clock when they reached the pass which only Grassette knew, the secret way into the Gulch.
They took up the body and moved away with it up the ravine. "It's all right, Grassette. You'll be a freeman," said the Sheriff. Grassette did not answer. He was thinking how long it would take him to get to Marcile, when he was free. He had a true vision of beginning life again with Marcile.
The Sheriff stooped to lift Bignold up, but Grassette waved them back with a fierce gesture, standing over the dying man. "He spoil my home. He break me I have my bill to settle here," he said in a voice hoarse and harsh. "It is so? It is so eh? Spik!" he said to Bignold. "Yes," came feebly from the shrivelled lips. "Water! Water!" the wretched man gasped. "I'm dying!"
He stood still for a moment and looked at them, as it were only half comprehending that they were cheering him now, and that voices were saying, "Bravo, Grassette! Save him, and we'll save you." Cheer upon cheer, but he took no notice. He walked like one in a dream, a long, strong step.
At sight of this second figure the Sheriff had come often before, and would come for one more doleful walk with him Grassette started.
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