CHAPTER XXIII BORROWING “It is you—you two!” exclaimed Pepperill, as he reached the summit. He gasped the words; he could not shout, so short of breath was he. His face with heat was purple as a blackberry. “What’s the meaning of this?” He held to a projection of granite, and panted. “Interfering with law—protecting a scoundrel.” He paused to wipe his face. “A malefactor—a criminal—guilty”—again gasped like a fish out of water—"guilty of incendiarism, of arson, of felony!" “Why, Pasco, you’re hot. Keep cool, old boy,” said Jason, laughing. “Who has created you constable, or sheriff of the county, that you are so anxious to apprehend rogues?” “Rogues? rogues? Only rogues assist rogues in escaping the reward of their deeds.” “Is there a warrant out for his apprehension?” “I don’t know.” “Then what on earth makes you put yourself in a heat and commotion to catch him?” Pasco mopped his brow, and, tearing up some ferns, dry though they were, proceeded to fan his face. “Why? Do you ask? For the public security, of course. And now”—again he puffed—"now I can’t talk; my wind is gone." Pepperill looked into the ravine. He could see that the men on the farther side of the stream were at a nonplus. The fugitive had escaped them, had dived out of their sight into the coppice-wood, and they knew that pursuit was in vain. He turned sharply on his brother-in-law. “This is your doing—you and Kate. First you give him work, and then you let him escape. He who helps a felon is a felon himself.” “My dear Pasco,” said Jason Quarm, laughing, “what makes you so fiery in this matter?” “Fiery? of course I’m fiery. And look there, Jason! There are the workmen, a dozen of them, doing nothing, and we shall have to pay their wages for a half day, and nothing to show for it.” “Whose fault is that? You sent them from their tasks.” “Yes, to catch a villain.” “Which was no concern of yours.” “It is a concern of mine, and of every honest man. How can one be safe with such a malefactor at large? I have my house, my stores; I shall not be able to sleep at night with ease, knowing that this fellow is at large. If anything happens, I shall come on you.” “You’ll get nothing from me.” “That is the worst; I know it. Why did you help the man to escape? No one is safe—no one. And I, least of all; for now he regards me as his enemy. He has sworn vengeance; he may come on me and cut my throat.” “Not much throat to be cut, Pasco.” “There is my money-box”— “Box, not money.” “He may set fire to my house—my barns—burn me and my wife—your sister—Kitty—your daughter. Don’t you care for that?” “I am not afraid. If you went after him, and have angered him, well, we helped him, as you suppose, and have won his good-will.”