bank of the creek, and the face of the big tree shattered by lightning. But there was no trace of any campfire, no blackened soil, no dark spot of ashes, and no suggestion of broken firewood anywhere around.
After I had looked for a few moments, I began to feel that Clonmel must have seen the place, to be sure, but that nothing but ghosts had been in it.
I was still staring around when a voice said, behind me:
"Well, stranger?"
I jerked about in the saddle. There at the edge of a huge boulder was a tall fellow who reminded me of someone I had seen before. He had big shoulders and the legs and hips of a running stag. There was something about his brown face, too, that reminded me of other features which I could not place.
"Jim Silver!" I exclaimed.
"Who sent you up here?" he asked.
"Clonmel," said I.
"Ah, he sent you, did he?" answered Silver. "I think that's the last thing that—Clonmel would do."
He said this in rather a queer way. I felt that I had to establish the facts at once before he would believe me, and I blurted out:
"He only sent me back here because Parade and Frosty are gone. They've been stolen!"
He came up to me with quick steps and gripped the reins of my horse just under the chin, as though steadying the head of the mustang would hold me in a better place to be looked at.
"Parade? Frosty?" he echoed.
"They're gone!" I said wildly. I made a big pair of gestures to explain how entirely they were gone. The gestures also helped me to look away from the bright, grim eyes on this man. "Dean Cary and his son took them, while Harry Clonmel and I were in the house. Taxi heard about a stranger riding Parade. He came to the Cary place to fight to get them back for you. But instead of fighting, we went out to look in the barn —and the horse was gone."
I told him rapidly about what had happened and what plans we had made, while he backed a little away from me and released the head of the mustang.
I couldn't help winding up by crying: "But how did Harry Clonmel get the horse and the wolf away from you?"
"That's another matter," said Jim Silver. "The item for you to be interested in is that you're not riding back there with me."
"No?" said I. "You mean that you want my horse? Why, you can have him, Silver. All of us in these mountains—all the honest men—are willing to give you more than a horse if it will help. You take the mustang, and I'll peg along on foot. I may get there late, but I'll arrive."
He smiled at me a little.
"I'll get there on foot faster than any horse could take me," he said. "Any horse except one," he added. '"But you're not for this sort of business. You're not trained to the minute for a fight, and there's apt to be fighting up there. I'll cut straight across the mountains, where a horse couldn't go, and I'll be at the headwaters of that creek before an ordinary mustang would carry me there. But you—you're going back home to your wife."
"Wife?" said I. "How do you know that I'm married?"
He smiled again.
"A woman sewed that patch at your knee," he said. "Men don't take such small stitches or such regular ones. I'm grateful to you for wanting to help—but you're going home."
Now, as I stood there and looked at Jim Silver, I had a strange experience. I knew, in a flash, that all I had ever heard about him was true—all of his wild adventures, and all of his courage, and his steel-cool hardness of nerve. Invisible lips were calling to me, and I felt cold-hearted and alone in a strange way. I made a foolish and childish gesture toward him.
"My wife—she saw you once," said I, "and if she were here, she'd send me kiting along to help you. Yes, and she'd want to go along with us!"
I laughed, but Jim Silver did not laugh. He just looked at me.
"I've got to go," I said at last. "I'd never have the courage to call my soul my own, if I didn't go. I'd never be able to face my son."
He kept his silence until I thought it would never end, and at last he said:
"If anything
After I had looked for a few moments, I began to feel that Clonmel must have seen the place, to be sure, but that nothing but ghosts had been in it.
I was still staring around when a voice said, behind me:
"Well, stranger?"
I jerked about in the saddle. There at the edge of a huge boulder was a tall fellow who reminded me of someone I had seen before. He had big shoulders and the legs and hips of a running stag. There was something about his brown face, too, that reminded me of other features which I could not place.
"Jim Silver!" I exclaimed.
"Who sent you up here?" he asked.
"Clonmel," said I.
"Ah, he sent you, did he?" answered Silver. "I think that's the last thing that—Clonmel would do."
He said this in rather a queer way. I felt that I had to establish the facts at once before he would believe me, and I blurted out:
"He only sent me back here because Parade and Frosty are gone. They've been stolen!"
He came up to me with quick steps and gripped the reins of my horse just under the chin, as though steadying the head of the mustang would hold me in a better place to be looked at.
"Parade? Frosty?" he echoed.
"They're gone!" I said wildly. I made a big pair of gestures to explain how entirely they were gone. The gestures also helped me to look away from the bright, grim eyes on this man. "Dean Cary and his son took them, while Harry Clonmel and I were in the house. Taxi heard about a stranger riding Parade. He came to the Cary place to fight to get them back for you. But instead of fighting, we went out to look in the barn —and the horse was gone."
I told him rapidly about what had happened and what plans we had made, while he backed a little away from me and released the head of the mustang.
I couldn't help winding up by crying: "But how did Harry Clonmel get the horse and the wolf away from you?"
"That's another matter," said Jim Silver. "The item for you to be interested in is that you're not riding back there with me."
"No?" said I. "You mean that you want my horse? Why, you can have him, Silver. All of us in these mountains—all the honest men—are willing to give you more than a horse if it will help. You take the mustang, and I'll peg along on foot. I may get there late, but I'll arrive."
He smiled at me a little.
"I'll get there on foot faster than any horse could take me," he said. "Any horse except one," he added. '"But you're not for this sort of business. You're not trained to the minute for a fight, and there's apt to be fighting up there. I'll cut straight across the mountains, where a horse couldn't go, and I'll be at the headwaters of that creek before an ordinary mustang would carry me there. But you—you're going back home to your wife."
"Wife?" said I. "How do you know that I'm married?"
He smiled again.
"A woman sewed that patch at your knee," he said. "Men don't take such small stitches or such regular ones. I'm grateful to you for wanting to help—but you're going home."
Now, as I stood there and looked at Jim Silver, I had a strange experience. I knew, in a flash, that all I had ever heard about him was true—all of his wild adventures, and all of his courage, and his steel-cool hardness of nerve. Invisible lips were calling to me, and I felt cold-hearted and alone in a strange way. I made a foolish and childish gesture toward him.
"My wife—she saw you once," said I, "and if she were here, she'd send me kiting along to help you. Yes, and she'd want to go along with us!"
I laughed, but Jim Silver did not laugh. He just looked at me.
"I've got to go," I said at last. "I'd never have the courage to call my soul my own, if I didn't go. I'd never be able to face my son."
He kept his silence until I thought it would never end, and at last he said:
"If anything
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