"I guess it will depend a good deal on your answer; that is, unless Nevis gets hold of the thing."
"Then it's my intention to drop Jake Winthrop now. There's very little probability of his wanting any further assistance that I could render him."
"Well, let it go at that," replied Slaney simply. "I guess it will save you trouble. Good-day to you."
He rode away, and Alison turned to her companion when they drove on again.
"One could have imagined that you and the corporal were making a bargain," she suggested.
"Well," he admitted, "I'm afraid it was quite illegal, but it amounted to something very much like that. The bargain, however, is only a provisional one. If Nevis chances on the truth, he may upset it by forcing Slaney's hand."
"But, after all, you gave each other only a vague hint. It would be difficult even to reproach the corporal if, as you say, he went back on it."
"Oh, yes," assented Thorne dryly. "Still, I haven't the least reason for believing that probable."
Alison made no comment, though the attitude of both men appealed to her. They were enemies in some respects, and yet once the indefinite understanding had been arrived at neither seemed to have the slightest fear that the other would violate it. They were, she remembered, men who lived in the open, who broke and rode wild horses, and who faced exposure and strenuous toil. Why this should be conducive to reliability of character was not very clear, but it apparently had that result. Then she remembered what the corporal had mentioned.
"You have been doing something to help Winthrop to escape since the night you let him have the horse?"
Thorne admitted it, and when she pressed him for the story he told it whimsically; but this time Alison felt no anger. A few plain words spoken by Lucy Calvert had obviated that, for it was now quite clear that the man had been prompted by mere chivalrous pity and lust of excitement, and had no desire to win the girl's favor.
Thorne smiled, though he looked at her in a somewhat curious fashion. Then at her request he related how Winthrop had held off the police. As it happened, he could tell a story with dramatic force, and both the brief narratives had their effect on Alison. She had imagination, and could picture the man who now sat beside her smashing furiously through the tangled bluff in the blackness of the night, and the other sitting grimly resolute beside the stove with the stick of giant-powder in his hand. After all, they were, she realized, the doings of primitive men; but charity that did not stop to count the cost, and steadfast, unflinching valor, were rudimentary too, and all the progress of a complex civilization had evolved nothing finer. Man could add nothing to them. They were perfect gifts to him, though there was reason for believing that they were not distributed broadcast.