"Lie down, Guess!" she said, patting the dog's head. "Just curl up there in the sun. Yes, that's a dear! Lie down!"
Guess did not curl up; but stretched himself on the grass in front of the door, resting his head between his paws, and keeping a pair of particularly bright eyes fixed on Willard. He would have treated a tame snake or a performing bear in much the same way, if so bidden by someone whom he trusted.
Father and daughter entered the cabin, which was all of a jumble owing to the cleansing operations. Nancy unloaded the gun--why, she hardly knew, because that was the first thing Derry would attend to when he returned. Placing the weapon on the table, she essayed a forlorn smile at the disorder the place was in.
"Derry and Peter have gone to the hotel for stores," she said, "and I took the opportunity to tidy our small castle."
"I saw them crossing the lake," said Willard. "I have been waiting two days for the chance that offered this morning. You see, Nancy, you and I had to thresh out matters between our two selves. When all is said and done, the future concerns us far more than any other person."
Nancy looked across the lake. There was no sign of the canoe, and she was glad of it.
"Now, Dad," she said, tuning her utterance to a softer key in valiant endeavor to place their relations on a friendly footing, "I hope you will try and think less harshly of Derry and me. What is done cannot be undone----"
"It can be put straight, which is the next best thing," broke in Willard fiercely. "I'm not here to listen to _your_ plans; but you must listen to _mine_! I have no time to lose, nor have you; so I'll put my meaning in the plainest words possible, and I'll thank you not to interrupt me. I'm not going to lecture you on morality, and that sort of thing--that's not my business. I have followed you with one object, and one only, and that is to take you back to your husband. Don't try to shut me up!" he almost screamed; for Nancy's indignation had crimsoned her face and neck again. "You've got to hear what I have to say, and it must be here and now. You'll know why when I have finished. I've thought this wretched affair through from A to Z, and _my_ way has to be _your_ way--unless you prefer the alternative. You either come with me now, this instant, and promise not to leave me until I hand you over to your husband, or I shall shoot Power at sight. That is my offer. Take it or leave it. I give you your fancy man's life in exchange for your obedience. Refuse, and I fill him full of lead. I'm running no bluff on you. I mean just what I am saying. I am not even taking any great risk, because there isn't a jury in America that would convict a father for killing the man who betrayed his daughter while her husband's back was turned. The dirty hound! I've got both him and you in a tight place, and now you're going to suffer, each of you. Condemn him to death if you like. I don't care a red cent which way your choice goes. But, if you want him to live, you must return to Marten, and be his good and loving wife once more. No, you gain nothing by shrinking away in horror at the notion. Nor will death serve your ends, since a silly woman would think little of giving her life to save her lover. You have my full and complete terms, no less, in exchange for Power's life. It won't save him if you agree to come away with me and throw yourself overboard before our steamer reaches Europe. That will mean simply that I take the next boat west, and kill Power. My plea still holds good. I am prepared to face any court with the proofs of my story. But I can't waste any more time. Which is it to be--go or stay--give Power his life or take it? If you want to please me, which is about the last thing you would think of, refuse to come with me, because I am aching to empty these into his rotten carcass."