"And what's your information for me, Mr.Raven?" inquired the Superintendent."You are not going to deprive me of my bit of news?""Ah, yes--news," replied Raven, sitting down again."Briefly this.
Little Thunder has yielded to some powerful pressure and has again found it necessary to visit this country, I need hardly add, against my desire.""Little Thunder?" exclaimed the Superintendent, and his tone indicated something more than surprise."Then there will be something doing.And where does this--ah--this--ah--friend of yours propose to locate himself?""This friend of mine," replied Raven, with a hard gleam in his eye and a bitter smile curling his lips, "who would gladly adorn his person with my scalp if he might, will not ask my opinion as to his location, and probably not yours either, Mr.Superintendent." As Raven ceased speaking he once more rose from his chair, put on his leather riding coat and took up his cap and gauntlets."Farewell, Mrs.Cameron," he said, offering her his hand."Believe me, it has been a rare treat to see you and to sit by your fireside for one brief half-hour.""Oh, but Mr.Raven, you are not to think of leaving us before dinner.Why this haste?""The trail I take," said Raven in a grave voice, "is full of pitfalls and I must take it when I can.The Superintendent knows,"he added.But his smile awoke no response in the Superintendent, who sat rigidly silent.
"It's a mighty cold day outside, "interjected Smith, "and blowing up something I think.""Oh, hang it, Raven!" blurted out Cameron, who sat stupidly gazing into the fire, "Stay and eat.This is no kind of day to go out hungry.It is too beastly cold.""Thanks, Cameron, it IS a cold day, too cold to stay.""Do stay, Mr.Raven," pleaded Moira.
He turned swiftly and looked into her soft brown eyes now filled with warm kindly light.
"Alas, Miss Cameron," he replied in a low voice, turning his back upon the others, his voice and his attitude seeming to isolate the girl from the rest of the company, "believe me, if I do not stay it is not because I do not want to, but because I cannot.""You cannot?" echoed Moira in an equally low tone.
"I cannot," he replied.Then, raising his voice, "Ask the Superintendent.He knows that I cannot.""Do you know?" said Moira, turning upon the Superintendent, "What does he mean?"The Superintendent rose angrily.
"Mr.Raven chooses to be mysterious," he said."If he cannot remain here he knows why without appealing to me.""Ah, my dear Superintendent, how unfeeling! You hardly do yourself justice," said Raven, proceeding to draw on his gloves.His drawling voice seemed to irritate the Superintendent beyond control.
"Justice?" he exclaimed sharply."Justice is a word you should hesitate to use.""You see, Miss Cameron," said Raven with an injured air, "why Icannot remain."
"No, I do not!" cried Moira in hot indignation."I do not see,"she repeated, "and if the Superintendent does I think he should explain." Her voice rang out sharp and clear.It wakened her brother as if from a daze.
"Tut, tut, Moira!" he exclaimed."Do not interfere where you do not understand.""Then why make insinuations that cannot be explained?" cried his sister, standing up very straight and looking the Superintendent fair in the face.
"Explained?" echoed the Superintendent in a cool, almost contemptuous, voice."There are certain things best not explained, but believe me if Mr.Raven desires explanation he can have it."The men were all on their feet.Quickly Moira turned to Raven with a gesture of appeal and a look of loyal confidence in her eyes.
For a moment the hard, cynical face was illumined with a smile of rare beauty, but only for a moment.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.In the center stood Raven, his face pale, hard, but smiling, before him Moira, waiting, eager, with lips parted and eyes aglow with successive passions, indignation, doubt, fear, horror, grief.Again that swift and subtle change touched Raven's face as his eyes rested upon the face of the girl before him.
"Now you know why I cannot stay," he said gently, almost sadly.
"It is not true," murmured Moira, piteous appeal in voice and eyes.
A spasm crossed the pale face upon which her eyes rested, then the old cynical look returned.
"Once more, thank you, Mrs.Cameron," he said with a bow to Mandy, "for a happy half-hour by your fireside, and farewell.""Good-by," said Mandy sadly.
He turned to Moira.
"Oh, good-by, good-by," cried the girl impulsively, reaching out her hand.
"Good-by," he said simply."I shall not forget that you were kind to me." He bent low before her, but did not touch her outstretched hand.As he turned toward the door Jerry slipped in before him.
"You let him go?" he cried excitedly, looking at the Superintendent;but before the latter could answer a hand caught him by the coat collar and with a swift jerk landed him on the floor.It was Smith, his face furiously red.Before Jerry could recover himself Raven had opened the door and passed out.
"Oh, how awful!" said Mandy in a hushed, broken voice.
Moira stood for a moment as if dazed, then suddenly turned to Smith and said:
"Thank you.That was well done."
And Smith, red to his hair roots, murmured, "You wanted him to go?""Yes," said Moira, "I wanted him to go."
