It was a clear, cool morning and Prescott was busily engaged throwing sheaves into his wagon. He had finished his harvest and, in accordance with western custom, had immediately begun the thrashing. Part of the great field was already stripped to a belt of tall stubble, though long ranks of stooks still stretched across the rest, and dusty men were hard at work among them. Wagons rolled through the crackling straw—going slowly, piled high with rustling loads; returning light, jolting wildly, as fast as the teams could trot, for the thrashers were paid by the bushel and would brook no delay. In the background stood their big machine, pouring out a cloud of smoke that stretched in a gray trail across the prairie, and filling the air with its harsh clatter.

It was a scene of strenuous activity, filled with hurriedly moving figures, but its coloring had lost something of its former vividness. The blue of the sky was softer, the light less strong; the varying hues of lemon and copper and ocher had become subdued; the shadows were no longer darkly blue but a cool restful gray. The rushing winds that had swept the wide plain all summer had come to rest; the air was sharp and still.

The last week or two, however, had brought no change to the inmates of the homestead. Jernyngham still brooded over his loss and worried the police, his daughter 103 looked to her host for comfort, and Prescott did what he could to cheer her. Gertrude, indeed, was sensible of a rapidly growing confidence in him and of the abandonment of many long-held ideas. The man was not of her station: he was a working farmer, his views at first had jarred on her; and yet the attraction he had for her was steadily increasing. She made a feeble fight against it. In England she had stood on safe ground, hedged in by conventions, ruled by the opinions of a narrow circle of friends. Now all was different; she had lost these supports and restraints and she was helpless without them. Passion was beginning to touch her and she mistook the rancher’s gentleness and sympathy.

When Prescott had loaded his wagon she joined him as he led his team between the ranks of stooks, but while she walked by his side he thought of another Englishwoman whom he had once brought home with the prairie hay. He remembered how Muriel Hurst had nestled among the yielding grass, with something delightful in every line of her figure. He recalled her bright good-humor, the music of her laugh, the soft tones of her voice, the hint of courage he had seen in her eyes; and there was pain in the recollection. Gertrude Jernyngham was powerless to move him as Muriel had done, but he was sorry for Cyril’s sister and very considerate of her.

“We’ll have the crop off the ground before long,” he said. “Then I’ll start for Alberta, as I promised.”

“You will be away some time?”

“I’m afraid so. It’s a big province, though there are not a great many settlements in it yet; and I may have to cross over into British Columbia.”

Gertrude looked down. 104

“It is very generous of you to go, but I shall miss you. I shall feel as if I had lost my chief support.”

“So far, I’ve done nothing but talk; and talk is cheap,” he laughed.

“You have given me courage,” she said with shy hesitation. “And sympathy is worth a good deal.”

He did not respond as she thought he might have done, and she continued:

“If my father had been less obstinate, you need not have gone; he could have hired a professional inquiry agent. But you had better not say anything about your object to him—it must be a secret between us.”

“Yes,” assented Prescott thoughtfully, “I guess that would be wiser. You want to keep his mind at rest as far as you can. Of course, there’s a big chance that I may fail.”

Gertrude turned to him with a smile.

“Oh, no! You are not one to fail!”

Prescott was slightly embarrassed. He had a feeling that he was being gently led on toward a closer acquaintance with his companion. She was dropping the reserve she had at first displayed and seemed to invite him tacitly into her confidence. He admitted that this idea might be incorrect, but it had troubled him once or twice before.

“I expect you’ll be comfortable enough while I’m away,” he said. “Mrs. Svendsen’s trustworthy, and everything will be quiet after the harvesters have gone.”

Gertrude did not answer, and they went on in silence to the noisy separator. Perspiring men, stripped of their heavier garments, were tossing the sheaves amid a cloud of dust; cleaned grain poured out into open bags, and as each was filled two panting toilers flung it 105 into a wagon. Near-by stood a great and growing pile of bags, over which the short straw would be spread a number of feet thick, to form a granary. Gertrude joined her father, who was standing near the machine, moodily looking on, and before Prescott had unloaded his wagon Curtis rode up with Private Stanton.

“Nothing new at the muskeg, sir,” he reported to Jernyngham rather curtly, and walked his horse toward Prescott.

“We were passing,” he told him, and indicated the pile of grain. “You’re not selling right away?”

“No; I’m not ready to haul the crop in to the elevators yet. I’ve one or two more pressing things to do.”

“Mayn’t you miss a chance? Prices are pretty good.”

Prescott was on his guard; he felt that Curtis suspected him.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I guess they won’t fall much.”

“Your neighbors mean to sell, though it’s quite likely that’s to meet their bills, and you always tried to get in on the first of the market until this year. It must have cost you a pile to put in that big crop.”

“It did.”

“Then how have you got so prosperous since last fall?”

It was a pointed question, because everybody in the district knew that Prescott had sold only a few head of cattle and a horse or two, while he would shortly have his accounts to meet.

“It’s a matter of management,” he replied. “I’ve been working on a different system this spring, and I find it pays.” Then he looked steadily at the corporal, “Besides, running Jernyngham’s place along with mine made it easier to cut expenses.” 106

“It’s a great crop. But we must be getting on.”

He rode off and when they had left the stubble, Private Stanton looked at him.

“His being able to hold his wheat; which he couldn’t do last year, is a pretty strong count against the man. You gave him his chance for explaining and he made a mighty bad show. Looks as if he’d got some money he couldn’t account for since last fall.”

“Not proved,” returned Curtis. “There’s something in what he said. Anyway, he isn’t afraid of us, since he’s putting up his grain.”

“I don’t quite catch on.”

Curtis smiled.

“You’re young. A guilty man would have rushed his crop into the elevators and had his money ready to light out with. If Prescott pulls out suddenly, he’ll have to leave his property behind.”

“The thing’s between him and Wandle,” Stanton persisted.

“Looks like that. Anyway, as the Austrian’s at the settlement, we’ll have a good look round his homestead. It’s possible that we’ll find something.”

“What made you think of searching the place again? Anything in the last instructions you got from Regina? You didn’t show them to me.”

“That’s so. It isn’t a part of my duty to consult you, and you’re a bit of a hustler. However, this is what I heard—a land agent in Navarino sent for the district sergeant; told him he’d run across a man from Sebastian at the hotel and the fellow got talking about Jernyngham. It was the first the land agent had heard of the matter; but he was struck by the date on which Jernyngham disappeared, because he’d had a deal with him three days later.” 107

“That’s mighty strange. If he’s right, Jernyngham couldn’t have been killed.”

“Don’t hustle!” said Curtis. “The fellow showed the sergeant the sale record, but he described Jernyngham as a big, rather stout man with light hair.”

“Wandle!” exclaimed Stanton. “Are you going to arrest him?”

“Not yet. We might get him sent up for fraud and forgery, but if he had anything to do with knocking Jernyngham out, he’ll be more likely to give us a clue of some kind while he’s at large.”

They rode on and reaching Wandle’s farm searched the house carefully, replacing everything exactly as they found it. They discovered nothing of importance, but as they went out Curtis glanced at the ash and r............