With a tumultuously beating heart he promptly diverged from his course, and set off straight for the house. It was always his way to act on impulse. Rarely did he give things a second thought where his inclinations were concerned.

As he drew near, Kate Seton's deep voice greeted him. Its tone was velvety in its richness, nor was there the least inflection of astonishment in its tone.

"That you, Mr. Bryant?" she said, without stirring from her att.i.tude of luxurious enjoyment.

Bill came up hurriedly.

"I s'pose it is," he said with a laugh. "All that the river hasn't washed away. Say," he went on, with amiable inconsequence, "there's just two things puzzling my fool head, Miss Seton: Why Fate takes a particular delight in handing me so many pleasant moments with so many unpleasant kicks? And what wild streak of good luck finds you sitting in the moonlight this hour of the night? It surely was a scurvy trick of Fate dumping me in the creek, when there's a bridge to walk over, just to land me right here, where you're handing up fancy dreams to a very chilly but beautiful moon. Guess I'm kind of spoiling the picture for you though. I may be some picture to look at, but I wouldn't say it's worth framing--would you?"

Kate smiled up at him. His dripping condition was obvious enough. Nor could she help her amus.e.m.e.nt. Knowing something of the man, he became doubly grotesque in her eyes.

"It needs courage to put things nicely under such adverse conditions,"

she said, with a laugh. "And I like courage." Then she went on in her easy, pleasant way: "It was the storm fetched me out of bed. I never can resist a storm. So I just had to dress and come right out here to watch it. Why are you around, anyway? Tell me about--about the river, and how you got into it."

Bill laughed joyously.

"Guess that's an easy one," he said lightly. "I was on my way home when I met that policeman, Fyles. He put me wise to the storm coming up--which I guessed was bright and friendly of him. You see, I hadn't located it. It was up to me to make Charlie's place quick, so I got busy on a short cut. Say, did you ever take a short cut--in a hurry?

Don't ever do it. 'Tisn't worth it--if you're in a hurry. Of course, I lost myself in the storm, and Fate began handing me one or two. Fate's always tricky. She likes to wait till she gets you by the back of the neck, so you can't do a thing, and then pa.s.ses you all that's coming to you. Guess she's had me by the neck quite awhile now, what with one thing and another. However, I mustn't blame her too much. You see, I lost myself, and it was she who found me, though I don't think anything of the way she did it. I was boosting through what I thought was a reasonable sort of bush, and found it wasn't. It was the overhang of the river, and when I dropped through I found myself in the water. Still, I knew that water was the river, and I knew where the river was. I'm grateful, in a way, but I can't help feeling Fate's got a dirty side to her nature, and bridges are fool things anyway, for always being where they aren't wanted."

Kate's laugh was one of whole-hearted amus.e.m.e.nt. Big Brother Bill's whimsical manner appealed to her.

"Maybe Fate thought you were out later than you ought to be," she said. "You--a stranger."

But the girl's remark had a different effect upon Bill than might have been expected. His smile died out, and all his lightness vanished.

Once more he was feeling that atmosphere of mystery closing about him.

It had oppressed him before, and now again it was oppressing him.

For a moment he made no answer. He was debating with himself in his blundering way. Finally, with a quick, reckless plunge, he made up his mind.

"I--was looking for Charlie," he said. "I've been trying to find him ever since I left here."

The girl's smile had pa.s.sed, too. A growing trouble was in her eyes.

"Charlie--is still out?" she demanded sharply. "And Fyles--where did you meet Inspector Fyles?"

The dark eyes were full of anxiety now. Kate's voice had lost its softness. Nor could Bill help noticing the wonderful strength that seemed to lie behind it.

"I can't say where Charlie is now," the man went on, a little helplessly. "I saw Fyles close by that big pine tree."

"Close by the pine tree?" Kate repeated the words after him, and her repet.i.tion of them suddenly endowed them with a strange significance for Bill.

With an air of having suddenly abandoned all prudence, all caution, Bill flung out his arms.

"Say, Miss Seton," he said, in a sort of desperation, "I'm troubled--troubled to death. I can't tell the top-side from the bottom-side of anything, it seems to me. There's things I can't understand hereabouts, a sort of mystery that gets me by the neck and nearly chokes me. Maybe you can help me. It seems different, too, talking to you. I don't seem to be opening my mouth too wide--as I've been warned not to."

"Who warned you?"

The question came sharp and direct.

"Why, O'Brien. You see, I went down to the saloon after I'd searched the ranch for Charlie, and asked if he had been there. O'Brien was shutting up. He said he had been there, but had gone. Then he told me where I'd be likely to find him, but warned me not to open my mouth wide--till I'd found him. Said I'd likely find him somewhere around that pine. Said he'd likely be collecting some money around there.

"Well, I set out to make the pine, and I didn't wonder at things for awhile. It wasn't till I got near it, and I saw the moon get up, and, in its light, saw Charlie in the distance near the pine, that this mystery thing got hold of me. It came on me when I hollered to him, and, as a result of it, saw him vanish like a ghost. But----"

"You called to him?"

The girl's question again came sharply, but this time with an air of deep contemplation.

"Yes. But I didn't get time to think about it. Just as I'd shouted two hors.e.m.e.n scrambled out of the bush beside me. One of 'em was Fyles.

The other I didn't know. He'd got three stripes on his arm."

"Sergeant McBain," put in the woman quietly.

"You know him?"

Kate shrugged.

"We all know him about here."

Bill nodded.

"Fyles cursed me for a fool for hollering out. Said he'd been watching that 'tough,' and didn't want to lose sight of him. I got riled. I told him a few things, and said I'd a right to hail my brother any old time. Then he changed around and said he was sorry, and asked me if I was sure it was my brother. When I told him 'yes,' he thanked me for putting him wise, and said I'd saved him a deal of unnecessary trouble. Said there was no more need to watch him--seeing he was my brother. That's when he told me about the storm, and I hit my short cut, and, finally, reached--the river. Now, what was he watching for, and who did he mistake Charlie for? What's the meaning of the whole thing? Why did O'Brien warn me? These are the things that get me puzzled to death. Maybe you can tell me--can help me out?"

He waited, confidently expecting an explanation that would clear up all the mystery, but none was forthcoming. Instead, when Kate finally replied, there was an almost peevish complaint in her tone.

"I wish you had taken O'Brien's warning more to heart," she said.

"Maybe you've done a lot of harm to-night. I can't tell--not yet."

"Harm?" Bill stood aghast.

"Yes--harm, man, harm." Kate's whole manner had suddenly undergone a change. She seemed to be laboring under an apprehension that almost unnerved her. "Don't you know who Fyles is after? He's after whisky-runners. Don't you know why O'Brien warned you? Because he believes, as pretty nearly everybody believes--Fyles, too--that your brother Charlie is the head of a big gang of them. Mystery? Mystery?

There is no mystery at all--only danger, danger for your brother, Charlie, while Fyles is on his track. You don't know Fyles. We, in this valley, do. It is his whole career to bring whisky-runners under the hammer of the law. If he can fix this thing on Charlie he will do it."

The girl sprang from her seat in her agitation, and began to pace the wet ground.

"Charlie? Though he's your brother, I tell you Charlie's the most impossible creature alive. Everything he does, or is, somehow fosters the conviction that he is against the law. He drinks. Oh, how he drinks! And at night he's always on the prowl. His a.s.sociates are known whisky-runners, men whom the police, everybody, knows have not the wit to inspire the schemes that are carried out under the very noses of the authorities. What is the result? The police look for the brain behind them. Charlie is clever, unusually clever; he drinks, his movements are suspicious. He's asking for trouble, and G.o.d knows he's going to find it."

A sudden panic was swiftly overwhelming Big Brother Bill. Though he knew no fear for himself it was altogether a different matter where his brother was concerned. He ran the great fingers of one hand through his wet, fair hair, an action that expressed to the full his utter helplessness.

"Say," he cried desperately, "Charlie's no crook. By G.o.d, I'll swear it! He's just a weak, helpless babe, with a heart as big as a house.

Charlie a crook? Say, Miss Seton, you don't believe it, do you?"

Kate shook her head.

"I know he's not," she said gently. Then in a moment all her fierce agitation returned. "But what's the use? Tell the folks in the valley he isn't, and they'll laugh at you. Tell that to Fyles." She laughed wildly. "Man, man, there's only one thing can save Charlie from this stigma, from Fyles. Let him leave the valley. It's the only way." She sighed and then went on, her manner becoming suddenly subdued and rather hopeless. "But nothing on earth could move him from here, unless it were a police escort taking him to the penitentiary."

She returned to her seat in the window, and when she spoke again her whole manner had undergone a further change. It was full of that womanly gentleness which fitted her so well.

"Mr. Bryant," she said, with a pathetic smile lighting her handsome features, and softening them to an almost maternal tenderness, "I'm fonder of Charlie than any creature in the world--except Helen. Don't make any mistake. I'm not in love with him. He's just a dear, dear, erring, ailing brother to me. He can't, or won't help himself. What can we do to save him? Oh, I'm glad you've come here. It's taken a load from my heart. What--what can we do?"