in the world was Bill doing with a thing like that? It may be, as you suggest, the cause of the murder. Did you ever hear of the Haines having such a valuable thing?”
“I never did. They always seemed too poor to possess anything like that. But, then, one can never tell. Bill Haines and his wife were very reserved people, and although friendly and hospitable to all, they kept their own affairs to themselves. Mrs. Haines was a refined woman, and it often struck me as strange that she should be willing to live year after year in such a lonely place along the river. However, we shall keep this ring; it may be the means of unravelling some mystery. The question now for us is what to do with this crazy creature. But first of all, get something to eat, as I am almost starved.”
While the constable was preparing supper, North sat by the side of the bunk, watching the unhappy man lying there, and listening to his incessant ravings. It was a sordid tale, unconsciously unfolded, and the sergeant was enabled to piece together much of his unenviable record. Tom, the Indian, squatted on the floor nearby, silent and alert. At times the sergeant glanced toward him and wondered what was passing through his mind. When the humble meal had been eaten, the Indian filled, lighted his old blackened pipe, and smoked for a while in silence. At last he rose to his feet and stood before the sergeant.
“Me go now,” he simply announced. “P’lice stay, eh?”
“Go where?” North asked in surprise. “Surely you are not going away to-night!”
“Ah, ah. Tom go find Injun. Fetch Injun back to Gap. Savvey?”
