"You heard what Ranger said?" "And of course you believe him?" "I don’t say that I do. I want to hear your version of his story." "You heard what I said also?" "That amounted to nothing. You had better have told him you had not written the letter." "Why should I? What right had he to ask such a question?" "It would have been so easy, and would have no doubt put an end to the matter." "Don’t you believe it. That man had come with his mind made up, and any denials on my part would have been of no avail." "It would have put him to the proof of his statement, at all events; and we should have known better the value to attach to it." After a short pause, John added, "Well, Charley, I am sorry to be obliged to confess it, but from the way in which you avoid the question, I am beginning to be of the opinion there must be some truth in Ranger’s charge. Tell me candidly, did you write that letter?" "Don’t you bother your head about what you have nothing to do with." "It _is_ something I have to do with. You are my brother, and we are the only remaining members of a once united and happy family. Anything that affects your honour or happiness equally affects mine, and I hope you feel the same towards myself. If we are to be separated,—as seems very probable,—don’t let it be in anger. If you will give me the assurance that Ranger is mistaken, and that you did not write the letter, I’ll believe you." "It’s a question that neither you nor Ranger have any right to ask. I shall give no further answer. You may both think what you like, and do as you like. I shall answer no more questions." Rising abruptly, as if to put an end to what was clearly an unpleasant topic of conversation, he retired to his room, leaving John to ruminate alone upon the difficulties which lay before him. *CHAPTER XXIX.* *TO FRESH FIELDS.* "All about him shadows still."—TENNYSON. The Bartons were early on the move the next morning, and Charles was soon busily engaged arranging and packing, ready for departure. "Then you mean to go, Charley?" asked John, anxious to say something. "Of course I mean to go! Didn’t Ranger tell me to?" "I know that; but I thought you might have made up your mind, after sleeping upon the subject, to go and explain matters and put things straight." "Not likely, John! I wouldn’t stay here now if he was to ask me." "I’m very sorry to hear it, for you may travel a long way before meeting with another man who will be as kind and considerate of his men as Ranger is." "I don’t feel that I have much to thank him for." "Ah, you are prejudiced at present." "I don’t think so,—I speak as I feel." "Yes, yes! But, mark my words, you’ll make a different statement before long." "We shall see!" Then, after a pause, he asked, "I suppose, John, you will be able to drive me and my luggage over to M’Lean Station?"