"Oh, no! You are not one to fail!"

Prescott was slightly embarra.s.sed. 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 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 pa.s.sing," 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."

"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."

"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 refuse heap.

"We might have thought of that earlier," he said. "I've heard of people trying to burn up things it might be dangerous to leave about."

Setting to work with a fork and shovel, they presently unearthed a rusty iron object which Stanton picked up.

"Looks like a big meat can," he remarked. "Kind of curious that Wandle should double it over this way and flatten it down."

Curtis took it from him and examined it carefully.

"It isn't a meat can; top edges are turned over a wire--here's a bit sticking out--and it's had a handle. There's a hinge in another place.

The thing has been a box--a cash-box, I guess--one of the rubbishy kind they sell for about a dollar."

"But what would make a man smash up his cash-box?"

"I don't know; guess it doesn't apply. I could understand his wanting to get rid of one that belonged to somebody else, after he'd cleaned it out.

Aren't you beginning to understand?"

"Sure," said Stanton eagerly. "The box was Jernyngham's--we'll find out when he bought it at the hardware store. Then we'll get after Wandle."

"You hustle too much!" Curtis rebuked him, and then sat down with knitted brows. "Now see here--in a general way, it's convictions we're out for; you want to count on your verdict before you arrest a man. It comes to this: he's tried first by us, and if he's to be let off, it saves trouble if we decide the thing, instead of leaving it to the jury. They won't tell you that at Regina, but, in practise, you'll find that a police trooper is expected to use some judgment. Still, there are exceptions to what I've said about holding back. In the interests of justice, one might have to corral an innocent man."

"How's that going to serve the interests of justice?"

The corporal's eyes twinkled with dry amus.e.m.e.nt.

"For one thing, it might lead the fellow we were really after to think we hadn't struck his trail. But that's not the point. How much ash would you figure Wandle takes out of his stove each time he lights it?"

"About a bucketful, burning wood."

"Not quite, but there's a bucket yonder. See how many times you can fill it with the stuff we shoveled off, while I take a smoke. Build up the pile to look as if we hadn't disturbed it."

Stanton did as he was bidden, counting each bucketful he replaced, and then Curtis sent him to clean out the stove and estimate the quant.i.ty of ash before he put it back. Then he made a calculation.

"Allowing for some of the ash slipping down the pile and for our having moved a little that was there before Wandle threw the cash-box in, it fixes the time he did so pretty close to Jernyngham's disappearance," he remarked. "Looks bad against the Austrian, doesn't it?"

"You have quite as much against Prescott."