thing you're open to tell me, I'll
make a note of it."

Prescott's face grew stern and his glance very steady.

"I can add nothing to what I've said, and I'm busy."

Curtis rode away, but when he was out of the rancher's sight he broke
into a dry smile. He was an astute young man and knew his business, which
was merely to investigate and follow the instruction of his chiefs at
Regina. Unembroidered facts were what they required in the first
instance, but later he might be permitted to theorize.

When the corporal had gone, Prescott went on with his plowing, but the
crackle of the stubble and the thud of the heavy Clydesdales' hoofs fell
unheeded on his ears, and it was half-consciously that he turned his team
at the head-land. He had a good deal to think about and his thoughts were
far from pleasant. To begin with, the memory of Muriel Hurst had haunted
him since she left; he recalled her with a regretful longing that seemed
to grow steadily stronger instead of diminishing. He thought she had left
an indelible mark on his life. Then there was his impersonation of
Jernyngham, which he had rashly agreed to, but did not now regret. If
Colston had met Cyril on the night of the riot and had gone to his untidy
dwelling, he would have been forced to send home an adverse report.
Prescott was glad to think he had saved his friend from a farther fall in
his English relatives' esteem, though, knowing a little of the man's
story, he held them largely responsible for his reckless career. Their
censoriousness and suspicion had, no doubt, driven him into wilder
rashness.

Besides all this, the corporal's manner rankled in his mind. He knew
Curtis well and had a good opinion of his ability. It seemed preposterous
that such a man could imagine that he had had any hand in Jernyngham's
death. Yet the corporal's tone had been significant and the facts had an
ugly look. He had seen Jernyngham secrete his money and had afterward
ridden on with him, unaccompanied by anybody else. He could not prove
when he returned to his farm, and it might be said that he stood to
benefit by securing the management of Jernyngham's property.

When he reached the end of the furrows his face was grim, but he steadily
continued his plowing.

CHAPTER VII

THE SEARCH

Prescott dismounted and turned loose his horse, short-hobbled, near the
muskeg about two o'clock one hot afternoon. He had begun work at four
that morning, and, with harvest drawin