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Updated: May 2, 2025
The gleam passed and the old, hard, cynical face turned in challenge to the Superintendent. "Explain!" he said bitterly, defiantly. "Go on if you can." The Superintendent stood silent. "Ah!" breathed Moira, a thrill of triumphant relief in her voice, "he cannot explain." With dramatic swiftness the explanation came. It was from Jerry. "H'explain?" cried the little half-breed, quivering with rage.
"H'explain? What for he can no h'explain? Dem horse he steal de night-tam' dat whiskee he trade on de Indian. Bah! He no good he one beeg tief. Me I put him one sure place he no steal no more!" A few moments of tense silence held the group rigid.
Anthony explained time after time that there were probably spotters on the run, and that this conduct was sure, sooner or later, to get them both into trouble. To all of which Allan listened attentively and agreed with all earnestness. But the next morning invariably found him back again with some excuse. "I can't h'explain it, chief," he acknowledged, on one occasion.
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