The dog knew.  He was free to move about; he was well-fed and freshly clothed, and the policemen acted toward him with a disinterestedness so scrupulous it was almost like kindness.

Nevertheless Ambrose felt their belief in his guilt like a hunchback feels the difference in the world’s glance.  In his moments of blackest discouragement the suggestion flitted oddly through his brain that maybe he was guilty of all these preposterous crimes.

If this was not enough, once he heard them discussing his case.  He was lying in a tent, and there was a little group of troopers at the door, smoking.  They thought he was asleep.

He heard Emslie say:  “Doane looks like a decent-enough head, doesn’t he?  Shows you never can tell.”

“The worst criminals are always a decent-looking sort,” said another.  “That’s why they’re dangerous.”

“By gad!” said a third, “when you think of all he’s responsible for, even if he didn’t do it with his own hands—­arson, robbery, murder—­think what that girl at Enterprise has been through!  By gad! hanging’s too good for him!”

“Any man that would lower himself to rouse the passions of the Indians against his own kind—­he isn’t worth the name of white man!”

“The worst of it is nothing you can do to Doane will repair the damage.  He’s put back the white man’s work in this country twenty years!”

Ambrose rolled over and covered his head with his arms.  These were honest men who spoke, men he would have chosen for friends.

Nest morning he showed no sign, except perhaps an added sullenness.  Nevertheless he had received a hurt that would never altogether heal while he lived.

No matter how swift rehabilitation might follow, after an experience like this a man could never have the same frank confidence in the power of truth.

It was a point of pride with him to be a model prisoner.  He gave as little trouble as possible, and during the whole journey made but one request.

That was at the last spell before reaching the fort.  He asked for a razor.  Colina might scorn him like the others, but she should not see him looking like a tramp.

Immediately upon their arrival at Fort Enterprise, John Gaviller in his capacity as Justice of the Peace held a hearing in the police room in the quarters.

Gaviller’s health was largely restored, but the old assurance was lacking, perhaps he would never be quite the same man again.  He was prompted by Gordon Strange.  Colina was not present.  Ambrose had not seen her upon landing.

The hearing was merely a perfunctory affair.  All the prisoners were remanded to Prince George for trial.

Ambrose gathered from the talk that reached his ears that it was intended to send everybody, prisoners, and witnesses, including Gordon Strange, Gaviller and Colina up the river next day in the launch and a scow.

To travel seven days in her sight, a prisoner—­he wondered if there were any dregs of bitterness remaining in the cup after this!