<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
<h3>THE LAST OF LONELY RANCH</h3>
<p>There are moments which come in all lives when
calm reflection is powerless to influence the individual
acts; when calmness, even in the most phlegmatic
natures, is impossible; when a tide of impulse sweeps
us on, giving us not even so much as a breathless,
momentary pause in which to consider the result of
our headlong career. We blunder on against every
jagged obstacle, lacerated and bleeding, jolting cruelly
from point to point, whither our passions irresistibly
drive us. It is a blind, reckless journey, from which
there is no escape when the tide sets in. We see our
goal ahead, and we fondly believe that because it is
ahead we must come to it. We do not consider the
awful road we travel, nor the gradual exhaustion
which is overtaking us. We do not realize that we
must fall by the wayside for lack of strength, nor
even, if our strength be sufficient to carry us on to the
end, do we ask ourselves, shall we be able to draw
aside out of the raging torrent when our goal is
reached? or shall we be swept on to the yawning
Beyond where, for evermore, we must continue to
struggle hopelessly to return? Once give passion
unchecked sway, and who can say what the end will be?</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_287' name='page_287'></SPAN>287</span></div>
<p>It was at such a moment in her life at which
Prudence had arrived. Her mind was set upon an
object which absorbed all her faculties, all her brain,
all her feelings. Had she been able to pause, even
for one moment, reason must have asserted itself and
she would have understood the folly of what she was
doing. But that moment was denied her. All the
latent passions of a strong nature had been let loose
and she was swept on by their irresistible tide. She
believed that she was the appointed avenger of the
man she had once loved, and that this duty unfulfilled
would be a crime, the stain of which nothing could
wipe out. Iredale must be confronted, challenged,
and–––</p>
<p>And so she came to Lonely Ranch on her self-imposed
errand of justice.</p>
<p>The man she sought was not in the house when she
came. The valley seemed to be devoid of life as
she rode up. But the solitude was almost instantly
broken by the appearance of Chintz from the region
of the barn. She dispatched him in search of his
master and passed into the bachelor sitting-room to
await his coming.</p>
<p>She was restless and her nerves were strung to a
great tension. Her eyes still shone with that peculiar
light which ever seemed to look out of her brother’s.
There was no yielding in the set of her mouth.
Her resolve disfigured the sweetness which usually
characterized her beautiful features.</p>
<p>She stood before the window, looking out upon the
shadow-bathed valley. She saw before her the dark
wall of foliage which rose to the heights of the Front
Hill. Not a living soul was about, only was there a
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_288' name='page_288'></SPAN>288</span>
rising wind which disturbed the unbroken forest of
pines. She turned abruptly from the view as though
she could not bear the solitude which was thus
made so apparent. She crossed over to where the
bookcase stood against the wall, and glanced in
through the glazed doors. But she comprehended
nothing of what she saw. She was thinking, thinking,
and her mind was in a tumult of hysterical fancies.
And she was listening too; listening for a sound––any
sound other than that which the wind made.
Mechanically she came over to the table and leant
against it in an attitude of abstraction. She shivered;
she stood up to steady herself and she shivered again.
And all the time the frenzied eyes gleamed in their
beautiful oval setting, the lips were drawn inwards,
and there remained only a sharply-defined line to
mark the sweet mouth. Presently her lips parted and
she moistened them with her tongue. A fever seemed
to be upon her, and mouth and throat were parched.</p>
<p>Suddenly the sound for which she waited came.
She darted eagerly to the window and saw Chintz
pass round in the direction of the barn. Then she
saw the burly figure of the man she was awaiting
appear in the clearing fronting the house.</p>
<p>George Iredale came along at a robust gait. He
was clad in moleskin riding-breeches, much stained
with clay, as though he had been digging; a soft shirt,
the sleeves of which were rolled up above the elbow;
his Stetson hat was adjusted at the correct angle
upon his head; and he wore a pair of tan-coloured
field boots, much smeared with the signs of toil. He
came rapidly towards the house. There was nothing
furtive, nothing guilty about this man’s bearing; he
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_289' name='page_289'></SPAN>289</span>
came readily to meet his visitor, and his appearance
was the confident bearing of a man who has little to
fear.</p>
<p>She saw him look towards the window where she
stood, and his smile of welcome set her nerves tingling
with a sensation she failed to understand. Her
hand went round to the pocket of her linen riding-skirt
and remained there. She heard his step in the
hall; she heard him approach and turn the door
handle. As he came into the room she faced him.</p>
<p>“Why, Prudence, this is a delightful–––” he began.
But she interrupted him coldly.</p>
<p>“One moment,” she said, and her voice was hoarse
with the dryness of her throat. “I have not come
over for any visit of pleasure, but strictly upon a
matter of––of––business. There are some explanations
which we both need to make, but more
especially you.”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>Iredale was gazing earnestly into the face before
him. He was trying to fathom the meaning of her
coldness. For the moment he wondered; then,
slowly, he began to understand that Hervey had been
at work.</p>
<p>“You got my note,” he said, choosing to ignore the
result of his observations. “My delay in calling at
the farm was unavoidable. I am in the midst of
disposing of my ranch. I had not expected that I
should have been called upon to do so so soon. I
beg that you will forgive me what must seem an
unwarrantable delay.”</p>
<p>Prudence’s nerves were so strung that she felt as
though she could strike him for his calm words. Her
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_290' name='page_290'></SPAN>290</span>
condition demanded the opposition of passion equal
to her own. His coolness maddened her. So long
had she dwelt upon the accusation Hervey had
brought against him that she believed in this man’s
guilt. The evidence of her own senses had militated
against him, and now she steeled herself in an armour
of unbelief. But, in spite of herself, the dictates of
her heart were struggling hard to find the joints of
her armour. Nor were the struggles lessened now
that she stood confronting him. His coolness, though
maddening to her, was not without effect. The
moral influence he wielded was great.</p>
<p>She backed to the table; then she plunged into
the subject of her mission without further preamble.
Her eyes stared straight into his, and her tones
sounded incisively in the stillness of the room.</p>
<p>“I little knew the man whom I was listening to
when he offered me his life, nor had I an idea of
how near I was to the man who inspired the words
which have appeared in the paper––the words which
were the last Leslie Grey ever uttered. What must
have been your feelings when I told you that I knew
their author to be a murderer?” Then, with scathing
bitterness: “But your feelings must have long since
been dead––dead as the poor creature you so wantonly
sent to his reckoning. The time has come for
you to defend yourself; that is, if defence you can
offer. No flimsy excuse or extenuation will cover
you. Even the Scriptures teach us that the penalty
is ‘a life for a life.’ Yours is the hand that struck
Leslie down, and now you must face the consequences
of your wanton act.”</p>
<p>Iredale’s quiet eyes never attempted to avoid the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_291' name='page_291'></SPAN>291</span>
girl’s direct gaze, nor did he flinch as the accusation
fell from her lips. Never was he more alert, never
more gently disposed towards this half-demented
creature than at that moment. He recognized the
hand that had been at work, and he laid no blame
upon her. His feelings were of sorrow––sorrow for
the woman he loved, and sorrow for himself. But his
thoughts were chiefly for her. He knew, as she had
said, that his time had come.</p>
<p>“So Hervey has been to you to sell the discovery
which I rejected at the price he asked. He told you
that I was a smuggler; that the announcement in the
paper was mine. And did he tell you that I was the
murderer of Leslie Grey? Or did your heart prompt
you to that conclusion?”</p>
<p>The girl supported herself against the table with
one hand, and the other was still in the pocket behind
her. Iredale noted these things without moving his
eyes from her face.</p>
<p>“Hervey told me the facts and the inevitable proof
they bore. Nor was his statement exaggerated. My
own reason told me that.”</p>
<p>The man sighed. He had hoped that the work
had been only of the brother’s doings. He had
hoped that she had come bearing Hervey’s accusation
and not her own.</p>
<p>“Go on,” he said.</p>
<p>“I know you for what you really are, George
Iredale. And now I have come to you to give you
the chance of defending yourself. No man must be
condemned without a hearing. Neither shall you.
The evidence against you is overwhelming; I can see
no escape for you. But speak, if you have anything
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_292' name='page_292'></SPAN>292</span>
to say in your defence, and I will listen. I charge
you with the murder of Leslie Grey.”</p>
<p>Just for one brief moment Iredale felt a shiver pass
through his body. The icy tones of the girl’s voice,
the seemingly dispassionate words filled him with a
horror unspeakable. Then he pulled himself together.
He was on his defence before the one person in the
world from whose condemnation he shrank. He did
not answer at once. He wished to make no mistake.
When at last he spoke his words came slowly as
though he weighed well each syllable before he gave
it utterance.</p>
<p>“With one exception all that Hervey has doubtless
said of me is true. I am a smuggler; I inspired that
line in the paper; but I am no––murderer. Leslie
Grey’s life was sacred to me at the time if only for
the reason that he was your affianced husband. I
loved you at that time as I have loved you for years,
and all my thoughts and wishes were for your happiness.
It would have made you happy to have married
Grey, therefore I wished that you should marry him.
I am quite unchanged. I will tell you now what
neither you nor Hervey knows, even though it makes
my case look blacker. I knew that Grey was on my
track. I knew that he had discovered my secret.
How he had done so I cannot say. He quarrelled
with me, and, in the heat of his anger, told me of his
intentions. It was late one night at a card-party at
your house, and just before he was so foully murdered.
No doubt you, or any right-minded person for that
matter, will say that this evidence only clinches the
case against me. But, in spite of it, I assert my
innocence. Amongst my many sins the crime Hervey
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_293' name='page_293'></SPAN>293</span>
charges me with”––he purposely avoided associating
the charge with her––“is not numbered. Can I hope
that you will believe me?”</p>
<p>The gentle tones in which the burly man spoke, the
earnest fearlessness which looked out from his quiet
eyes, gave infinite weight to all he said. Prudence
shook her head slowly, but the fire in her eyes was
less bright, and the voice of her own heart crying out
began to make itself heard in the midst of her chaotic
thought.</p>
<p>She tried to stiffen herself for the task she had
undertaken, but the result was not all she sought
Still, she replied coldly––</p>
<p>“How can I believe with all the black evidence
against you? You, in all this region, were the one
man interested in Leslie’s death. His life meant
penitentiary to you; his death meant liberty. Your
own words tell me that. How can I believe such a
denial as you now make? Tell me, have you no
proof to offer? Account for the day on which Leslie
met his death; prove your movements upon that
day.”</p>
<p>The girl’s denial of belief was belied by the eagerness
in her voice. For one brief instant a flash of
hope rose in her. She saw a loophole for her lover.
She longed to believe him. But the hope died down,
leaving her worse distracted for its coming.</p>
<p>For Iredale did not speak, and his face assumed a
look of gloom.</p>
<p>“Ah, you cannot––you cannot,” she went on
hysterically. “I might have known, I did know.”
A world of passion again leapt into her eyes. Then
something of the woman broke through her anger,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_294' name='page_294'></SPAN>294</span>
and a heart-breaking piteousness sounded in her
voice. “Oh, why, why did you do this thing? Why
did you stain your hands with such a crime as murder?
What would his living have meant to you? At worst
the penitentiary. Was it worth it to destroy thus the
last chance of your immortal soul? Oh, God! And
to think of it! A murderer!” Then the fierce anger
became dominant once more. “But you shall not
escape. Your crime shall be expiated as far as
human crimes can be expiated. The gallows awaits
you, George Iredale, and your story shall be told to
the world. You shall hang unless you can give to
judge and jury a better denial than you have given to
me.” She suddenly broke off. A whistling indrawn
breath startled the man before her. She gazed round
her wildly; she had remembered what she had come
for. She had forgotten when she had talked of
“judge and jury.” Her face assumed a ghastly hue
at the recollection. Her eyes alone still told of the
madness that possessed her.</p>
<p>Nor was Iredale without an uneasy feeling at what
he saw––that catch of breath; that hunted look as
she gazed about the room. Intuition served him in
the moment of crisis. What was the meaning? Why
was that hand concealed in her dress? There was
only one possible answer to such questions, and he
read the answer aright.</p>
<p>“Prudence,” he said, in his deep musical voice,
whilst his keen eyes riveted her attention, “I can
prove my innocence of the crime you charge me with.
Listen to me patiently, and I will tell you how. Do
not let your anger drive you to any rash act which
might bring you––lifelong regret.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_295' name='page_295'></SPAN>295</span></div>
<p>The girl made a sharp ejaculation. But she did
not attempt to interrupt him.</p>
<p>“I can prove that I was not within three hundred
miles of this place on the day of Leslie’s death,” the
man went on. “That I was in a city to the west
of here distributing”––bitterly––“my wares. I can
prove all this––to you. And I intend that before you
leave me to-day you shall be a witness to my innocence,
even against all prejudice. But before judge
and jury it will be different––very different.” He
sighed. “There I cannot prove my innocence, for to
do so would be to betray my comrades––those who
have traded with me and trusted me––and send them
to the penal servitude which also awaits me.” His
eyes had become reflective. He seemed to be talking
to himself now rather than to the woman before him.
“No, I cannot save myself at such a cost. Even
to escape the gallows I will not play the part of
Judas.”</p>
<p>The woman made no reply. She stood staring at
him with all that was best in her shining in her eyes.
She was trying to follow his every word and to take
his meaning, and the one thought which dominated
her whole mind was his expressed ability to prove his
innocence to her.</p>
<p>He seemed to awake from some melancholy reverie,
and again his eyes sought hers.</p>
<p>“Do you wish me to prove my innocence?”</p>
<p>“Yes; you must––you shall!”</p>
<p>The girl moved from the table; and, for the first
time during the interview, her hand was removed
from the pocket in her skirt. Hope filled the heart
in which but now the fires of hell had seemed to burn.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_296' name='page_296'></SPAN>296</span>
She drank in his words with a soul-consuming thirst
The proof! That was what she required.</p>
<p>Iredale went on with grave gentleness.</p>
<p>“The proof is in here.” He moved to the bookcase
and opened a secret recess in the back of it,
“In this cupboard.”</p>
<p>He produced a pile of books and brought them to
the table. Picking out one he opened it at the date
of Grey’s death. It was a diary. He read out the
entries for the entire week, all of which bore out his
testimony. Every one was dated at a different town
or village, and related to his sales of opium. He then
opened another book and showed the entries of his
sales and the figures. He went through the whole
pile, book after book, and all of them bore out his
statement as to his whereabouts. Then he produced
several contracts; these were deeds between himself
and various traders, and were dated at the towns at
which they were signed. Each book and paper he
passed on to Prudence for her scrutiny, drawing her
attention to the corroboration in the evidence. There
could be no doubt as to the genuineness of these facts,
and the girl’s last shadowy doubts of his innocence
evaporated before the overwhelming detail. The
hope which had filled her heart was now replaced
by a triumphant joy. This man had shown her, had
convinced her, and she wanted nothing more at that
moment.</p>
<p>She looked up into his face, hoping to see a
reflection of her own happiness in it. But there
was no happiness there. His face was calm, but the
melancholy had deepened in his eyes. What she
saw came like an icy douche to her, and the happy
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_297' name='page_297'></SPAN>297</span>
expression died upon her lips. She suddenly remembered
that he had said he could not use this evidence
to publicly declare his innocence.</p>
<p>“But–––” she began.</p>
<p>He shook his head. He knew that she wished to
protest. For a moment they looked into each other’s
eyes. Then the woman, the weaker, broke down
under the strain. Tears came to her eyes, and she
poured out all the pent-up grief of her hours of misery.</p>
<p>“Oh, George,” she cried, “can you ever forgive
my wickedness? I ought never to have believed.
My heart told me that you were innocent; but the
evidence––oh, the evidence. I could see no loophole.
Everything pointed to you––you. And I, wretch that
I am, I believed.” And the girl sobbed as though
her heart would break. Iredale made no attempt to
soothe her; he felt that it would be good for her to
weep. She leant against the table, and after a while
her sobs quietened. Then the man touched her upon
the shoulder.</p>
<p>“Don’t cry, Prue; my heart bleeds for you when I
listen to your sobs. You’re not to blame for believing
me guilty. Twelve jurymen will shortly do the same,
and who can blame them?” He shrugged. “I must
face the ‘music’ and take my chance. And now, child,”
he added, his hand still resting upon her shoulder, and
smiling down upon her from his superior height, “give
me that which you have concealed in your pocket.
We will throw it away.”</p>
<p>Prudence sprang up and moved beyond his reach.</p>
<p>“No, no! I can’t! Don’t ask me. Spare me the
shame of it. As you love me, George, don’t ask me
for it.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_298' name='page_298'></SPAN>298</span></div>
<p>“As you will, dear; I merely wished to rid ourselves
of an ugly presence. While we are together––and
it may not be for long now––nothing should
come between us, least of all that.”</p>
<p>The girl’s tears had dried. She looked over at her
lover. His compelling influence was upon her. She
paused irresolute; then she plunged her hand into
her pocket and drew forth a large revolver.</p>
<p>“Here, take it. Take it, and do what you like
with it” Then she laughed bitterly. “You know
me as I am now. I brought that to shoot you with,
and afterwards to shoot myself. You see, I am a
murderess at heart.” And she smiled bitterly.</p>
<p>Iredale took the weapon and placed it in his bookcase.
Then he came to the girl’s side and put his
arm tenderly about her shoulders.</p>
<p>“Forget it, child; forget it as you would a hideous
dream. Your feelings were forced upon you by––well,
through my wretched doings. That which I
have done to gain wealth has brought only what
might have been expected in its train. No work of
evil is without its sting, and, as is always the case,
that sting seeks out the most sensitive part of its
victim. The chastisement for my wrongdoing has
been inflicted with cruel cunning, for you, Prue,
have been made to suffer; thus is my punishment a
hundredfold greater.”</p>
<p>He drew her to him as he spoke, and gently
smoothed her dark hair. Under the influence of his
touch and the sound of his voice, the girl calmed.
She nestled close to his side, and for a moment
abandoned herself to the delight of being with him.
But her thoughts would not remain idle for long.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_299' name='page_299'></SPAN>299</span>
Suddenly she released herself and moved to arm’s
length from him.</p>
<p>“George,” she said, in a tone of suppressed eagerness,
“they cannot try you for––for murder. You
will tell them. You will show them all––these. For
my sake, for the sake of all your friends, you will not
let them––condemn you. Oh, you can’t allow it.
Think,” she went on, more passionately; “no men
would willingly let you be declared guilty when they
know you to be innocent. It must not be.”</p>
<p>Iredale gave no outward sign. He had turned his
face away and was gazing in the direction of the
window. His reflective eyes looked out upon the
valley, but his resolve was written plainly in them.</p>
<p>“Do not tempt me, Prue,” he said quietly. “Were
I to do otherwise than I have resolved, and obtained
an acquittal thereby, I should live a life of utter
regret. I should despise myself; I should loathe my
own shadow. Nothing could be more revolting to
me than the man who plays the part of a traitor, and
were I that man life would be impossible to me.
Think of it only for one moment, sweetheart, and
your own good heart will tell you how impossible is
that which you ask me to do. It cannot be. All the
world would despise me. But even so, its utmost
execration would be nothing compared with my own
feelings at the thought that I had saved myself by
such methods.” He withdrew his hand from her
embrace. “No, when the time comes and I am
forced to stand my trial for Grey’s murder, I shall
face it. Nor shall I betray my friends by one single
word. And, too, when that time comes there will
not remain one single trace of the traffic which has
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_300' name='page_300'></SPAN>300</span>
hitherto been part of my very existence. There shall
be no possible chance of discovery for those who have
trusted me. Your brother Hervey will never hold
his hand. I know that. I realized that when he left
me after seeking ‘blackmail.’ His vindictive nature
will see this through. And perhaps I would rather
have it so. It will then be settled once and for all.
I may get off, but I fear that it will be otherwise.”</p>
<p>At the mention of her brother’s name, Prudence
started, and the blood receded from her anxious face,
leaving it ghastly in its pallor. She had forgotten
that he was even now on his way to Winnipeg for the
express purpose of denouncing Iredale. For one
instant she shook like an aspen. Then she recovered
herself. What was to be done? She tried to think.
This matter of Hervey was of her doing. She had
driven him to it; urged him to it. Now she realized
the full horror of what her foolish credulity had led
her into. It had been in her power to stay his hand,
at least to draw his fangs. Now it was too late.
Suddenly she turned upon her lover in one final
appeal. At that moment it seemed the only chance
of saving him.</p>
<p>“George, there is a way out of it all; one last
resource if you will only listen to me. You love me
even in spite of the way I have wronged you. You
belong to me if only by reason of our love. You
have no right to throw your life away when you are
innocent. God knows I honour you for your decision
not to betray your companions. If it were possible, I
love you more than ever. But the sin would be as
great to throw your life away for such a shadow as it
would be to deliver your friends up to justice. You
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_301' name='page_301'></SPAN>301</span>
can save yourself; you must. The border is near.
We are right on it. Surely the way you have brought
the Chinese into the country should provide an exit
for us. Oh, my poor love, will you not listen to me?
Will you not give me the life I crave? George, let
us go––together.”</p>
<p>Her words came passionately. She had stepped
forward and placed her two brown hands upon his
great shoulders, and her dark, earnest eyes gazed
lovingly up into his.</p>
<p>The temptation was a sore one, and the man found
it hard to resist. He experienced a sudden rush of
blood to the brain. His body seemed to be on fire.
He was pulsating with a mad passion. The thought
of what she suggested came near to overthrowing his
sternest resolve. To go with her. To have her evermore
by his side. The thought was maddening.
Surely he had never realized until that moment how
dearly he loved this woman. But his strong nature
came to his rescue in time. The passion had died
down as swiftly as it had risen and left him cold and
collected.</p>
<p>He gazed down into the brown eyes ever so kindly,
ever so lovingly; and his answer came in a tone so
gentle that the girl felt that whatever the future might
hold for them, this moment had been worth living for.</p>
<p>“No, no, sweetheart. Not flight, even though you
would be my companion. We love one another
dearly, and for that very fact I could never allow
myself to remain under this cloud. At all costs we
will have the matter cleared. I owe it to you, to those
at the farm, and to myself.”</p>
<p>The girl’s hands dropped to her sides and she turned
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_302' name='page_302'></SPAN>302</span>
away. Then all the agony of her soul found vent in
one exclamation.</p>
<p>“Oh, God!” she cried. And with that last cry
came the revealing flash which answered the question
she had so repeatedly asked herself. She turned back
to her lover, and the agonized expression of her face
had changed, and in her eyes was the eager light of
excitement. Iredale saw the change, but did not
recognize its meaning. He felt that she must no
longer remain there.</p>
<p>“Child, I want you to go back to the farm and tell
them of the accusation that has been brought against
me. Tell them all the circumstances of it. Tell them
that I have clearly convinced you of my innocence;
but, as you love me, I charge you not to reveal the
manner in which it was done. Tell your mother that
I shall come over to-morrow, and she shall hear the
whole story from my own lips. I wish to do this
that she may hear my version before she reads of
what must happen in the papers. After that I shall
go into Winnipeg and set the law in motion. I will
clear myself or––otherwise. But on your honour you
must promise that all I have shown you to-day remains
a secret between us.”</p>
<p>Prudence listened intently to all he said, but a quiet
look of resolve slowly crept into her eyes.</p>
<p>“I promise,” she said, and Iredale thanked her with
a look.</p>
<p>There was the briefest of pauses; then she went on––</p>
<p>“On one condition.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>Iredale looked his surprise.</p>
<p>“Now you must hear me, George,” she went on
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_303' name='page_303'></SPAN>303</span>
eagerly. “You have charged me with this thing.
You must abide by my time. A day more or less
can make little difference to you.”</p>
<p>“But I wish to give myself up before others can
make the charge.”</p>
<p>“Just so. And in the meantime I want your
promise not to come to the farm until the”––she
paused to make a swift mental calculation––“day after
to-morrow at four o’clock in the afternoon.”</p>
<p>“Tell me your reason.”</p>
<p>“That is my own.” The girl was smiling now.
Then she again became excited. “Promise, promise,
promise! There is no time to lose. Even now I
fear we are too late.”</p>
<p>Iredale looked dubiously at her. Suddenly he saw
her face darken.</p>
<p>“Promise!” she demanded almost fiercely, “or I
will not abide by my promise to you.”</p>
<p>“I promise.”</p>
<p>An expression of relief came into Prudence’s eyes, and
she stepped towards him and looked up into his face.</p>
<p>“Good-bye, George, dearest.”</p>
<p>The man suddenly clasped her in a bear-like
embrace and rained passionate, burning kisses on
her upturned lips. Then quietly she released herself.
She stood away from him holding one of his great
hands in both of hers.</p>
<p>“Quick! Now my horse.”</p>
<p>Iredale departed, and Prudence was left alone. She
stood looking after him thinking, thinking.</p>
<p>“Can I do it?” she asked herself.</p>
<p>Damside City was the nearest telegraph station.
It lay nearly thirty-five miles due west of Owl Hoot
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_304' name='page_304'></SPAN>304</span>
It was merely a grain station for the district and in
no sense a village. She must make that point and so
intercept Hervey with a telegraphic message. It was
her one chance. In spite of her lover she would buy
Hervey’s silence, and trust to the future to set the
rest straight. She was strong and her horse was
good. She must reach the office before it was closed
at six o’clock that evening. She calculated it up;
she had just three hours in which to cover the distance.
She looked out of the window. The wind
was blowing from the east; that was good, it would
ease the horse. She looked up at the sky, there were
a few clouds scudding westwards.</p>
<p>“Yes, I’ll do it,” she said at last, “if it kills poor
Kitty.”</p>
<p>A moment later Iredale returned with the mare.
The girl waited not a second. Her lover assisted her
into the saddle reluctantly. He did not approve this
sudden activity on the part of the girl. When she
had settled herself she bent down, and their lips met
in one long, passionate kiss.</p>
<p>“Good-bye, George.”</p>
<p>The man waved his adieu. His heart was too full
to speak. She swung her mare round and galloped
down the valley to the north. Her object was to
clear the valley and then turn off to the west on the
almost disused trail to Damside.</p>
<p>Iredale looked after her until the sound of the
mare’s hoofs died away in the distance. He was
filled with wonder at her strange request and her
hurried departure. But his speculations brought him
to no definite conclusions, and he turned abruptly and
called to his man, Chintz.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_305' name='page_305'></SPAN>305</span></div>
<p>The man hurried from the stable.</p>
<p>“We have been a little delayed. Is everything
ready?” Iredale looked up at the sky, then down
at the grizzled face before him.</p>
<p>Chintz nodded.</p>
<p>“Good. Then get to work. Start the first fire
directly beyond the graveyard to the east. The wind
is getting up steadily. You are sure there are no
farms to the west of us, between here and Rosy
River?”</p>
<p>The man gave a negative shake of the head.</p>
<p>“That’s all right then. There will be no damage
done. And the river will cut the fire off. This time
to-morrow we shall be homeless wanderers, Chintz––you
and I.” And the smuggler laughed bitterly.</p>
<p>Then his laugh died out.</p>
<p>“Well, to work. Set the fires going.”</p>
<hr class='toprule' />
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_306' name='page_306'></SPAN>306</span>
<SPAN name='CHAPTER_XVIII_THE_FOREST_DEMON_PURSUES' id='CHAPTER_XVIII_THE_FOREST_DEMON_PURSUES'></SPAN>
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