"Well," said Stimson, "the trooper who rode after him heard him break
through the ice, but nobody ever found him, though a farmer came upon
his horse."
The officer nodded. "I fancy you are right, and the point is this.
There were two men, who apparently bore some resemblance to each other,
engaged in an unlawful venture, and one of them commits a crime nobody
believed him capable of, but which would have been less out of keeping
with the other's character. Then the second man comes into an
inheritance, and leads a life which seems to have astonished everybody
who knows him. Now, have you ever seen these two men side by side?"
"No, sir," said Stimson. "Courthorne kept out of our sight when he
could, in Alberta, and I don't think I or any of the boys, except
Shannon, ever saw him for more than a minute or two. Now and then we
passed Winston on the prairie or saw him from the trail, but I think I
only once spoke to him."
"Well," said the officer, "it seems to me I had better get you sent
back to your old station, where you can quietly pick up the threads
again. Would the trooper you mentioned be fit to keep an eye on things
at Silverdale?"
"No one better, sir," said Stimson.
"Then it shall be done," said the officer. "The quieter you keep the
affair the better."
It was a week or two later when Winston returned to his homestead from
the bridge, which was almost completed. Dusk was closing in, but as he
rode down the rise he could see the wheat roll in slow ripples back
into the distance.
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