Ranching for Sylvia Part 40

"That's done with," Grant said firmly; and soon afterward he and George returned to the other room.

After a while he went out with Edgar to look at a horse, and George turned to Flora.

"Your father has taken a big weight off my mind, and I'm afraid I hardly thanked him," he said.

"Then it was a relief?" she asked, and it failed to strike him as curious that she seemed to know what he was alluding to.

"Yes," he declared; "I feel ever so much more confident now that I can get that seed. The fact that it was offered somehow encouraged me."

"You never expected anything of the kind? I've sometimes thought you're apt to stand too much alone. You don't attach enough importance to your friends."

"Perhaps not," admitted George. "I've been very wrong in this instance; but I suppose one naturally prefers to hide one's difficulties."

"I don't think the feeling's universal. But you would, no doubt, be more inclined to help other people out of their troubles."

George looked a little embarra.s.sed, and she changed the subject with a laugh.

"Come and see us when you can find the time. On the last occasion, you sent your partner over."

"I'd made an appointment with an implement man when I got your father's note. Anyway, I should have fancied that Edgar would have made a pretty good subst.i.tute."

"Mr. West is a favorite of ours; he's amusing and excellent company, as far as he goes."

Her tone conveyed a hint that Edgar had his limitations and he was not an altogether satisfactory exchange for his partner; but George laughed.

"He now and then goes farther than I would care to venture."

Flora looked at him with faint amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Yes," she said. "That's one of the differences between you; you're not a.s.sertive. It has struck me that you don't always realize your value."

"Would you like one to insist on it?"

"Oh," she said, "there's a happy medium; but I'm getting rather personal, and I hear the others coming."

She drove away a little later, and when Flett had gone to bed George and Edgar sat talking a while beside the stove.

"Grant's a staunch friend, and I'm more impressed with Flora every time I see her," said the lad. "She's pleasant to talk to, she can harness and handle a team with any one; but for all that, you recognize a trace of what I can only call the grand manner in her. Though I understand that she has been to the old country, it's rather hard to see how she got it."

George signified agreement. Miss Grant was undoubtedly characterized by a certain grace and now and then by an elusive hint of stateliness.

It was a thing quite apart from self-a.s.sertion; a gracious quality, which he had hitherto noticed only in the bearing of a few elderly English ladies of station.

"I suppose you thanked her for that seed?" Edgar resumed.

"I said I was grateful to her father."

"I've no doubt you took the trouble to mark the distinction. It might have been more considerate if you had divided your grat.i.tude."

"What do you mean?"

"It's hardly likely that the idea of helping you in that particular way originated with Alan Grant, though I shouldn't be surprised if he had been allowed to think it did."

George looked surprised and Edgar laughed.

"You needn't mind. It's most improbable that Miss Grant either wished or expected you to understand. She's a very intelligent young lady."

"It strikes me that you talk too much," George said severely.

He went out, feeling a little disturbed by what Edgar had told him, but unable to a.n.a.lyze his sensations. Putting on his furs, he proceeded to look around the stable, as he had fallen into a habit of doing before he went to rest. There was a clear moon in the sky, and although the black shadow of the buildings stretched out across the snow, George on approaching one noticed a few footprints that led toward it. There were numerous other tracks about, but he thought that those he was looking at had been made since he had last entered the house. This, however, did not surprise him, for Flett had recently visited the stable.

On entering the building, George stopped to feel for a lantern which was kept on a shelf near the door. The place was very dark and pleasantly warm by contrast with the bitter frost outside, and he could smell the peppermint in the prairie hay. Familiar sounds reached him--the soft rattle of a shaking rope, the crackle of crushed straw--but they were rather more numerous than usual, and while he listened one or two of the horses began to move restlessly.

The lantern was not to be found; George wondered whether Flett had carelessly forgotten to replace it. He felt his way from stall to stall, letting his hand fall on the hind quarters of the horses as he pa.s.sed. They were all in their places, including Flett's gray, which lashed out at him when he touched it; there was nothing to excite suspicion, but when he reached the end of the row he determined to strike a match and look for the lantern. He was some time feeling for the match-box under his furs, and while he did so he heard a soft rustling in the stall nearest the door. This was curious, for the stall, being a cold one, was unoccupied, and there was something significantly stealthy in the sound; but it ceased, and while he listened with strained attention a horse moved and snorted. Then, while he fumbled impatiently at a b.u.t.ton of his skin coat which would not come loose, an icy draught stole into the building.

It was obvious that the door was open; he had left it shut.

Breaking off his search for the matches, he made toward the entrance and sprang out. There was n.o.body upon the moonlit snow, and the shadows were hardly deep enough to conceal a lurking man. He ran toward the end of the rather long building; but, as it happened, he had to make a round to avoid a stack of wood and a wagon on the way. When he turned the corner, the other side of the stable was clear in the moonlight and, so far as he could see, the snow about it was untrodden.

It looked as if he had made for the wrong end of the building, and he retraced his steps toward a barn that stood near its opposite extremity. Running around it, he saw n.o.body, nor any footprints that seemed to have been recently made; and while he stood wondering what he should do next, Grierson appeared between him and the house.

"Were you in the stables a minute or two ago?" George called to him,

"No," said the other approaching. "I'd just come out for some wood when I saw you run round the barn."

George gave him a brief explanation, and the man looked about.

"Perhaps we'd better search the buildings; if there was any stranger prowling round, he might have dodged you in the shadow. It's hardly likely he'd make for the prairie; the first clump of brush big enough to hide a man is a quarter of a mile off."

They set about the search, but found n.o.body, and George stopped outside the last building with a puzzled frown on his face.

"It's very strange," he said. "I left the door shut; I couldn't be mistaken."

"Look!" cried Grierson, clutching his arm. "There's no mistaking about that!"

Turning sharply, George saw a dim mounted figure cross the crest of a low rise some distance away and vanish beyond it.

"The fellow must have run straight for the poplar scrub, keeping the house between you and him," Grierson explained. "He'd have left his horse among the brush."

"I suppose that was it," George said angrily. "As there's no chance of overtaking him, we'll have a look at the horses, with a light, and then let Flett know."

There was nothing wrong in the stable, where they found the lantern George had looked for flung down in the empty stall, and in a very short s.p.a.ce of time after they had called him Flett appeared. He walked round the buildings and examined some of the footprints with a light, and then he turned to George.

"Looks like an Indian by his stride," he said. "Guess I'll have to saddle up and start."

"You could hardly come up with the fellow; he'll have struck into one of the beaten trails, so as to leave no tracks," Edgar pointed out.

"That's so," said Flett. "I don't want to come up with him. It wouldn't be any use when your partner and Grierson couldn't swear to the man."

"What could have been his object?" George asked. "He seems to have done no harm."