“Exactly,” he responded. “And I imagine you have little taste for walking blindfolded. So we will spread our hands on the board. First, let us look a few facts cold-bloodedly in the eye. Here are two of us practically outlawed. I—well, it should be obvious to you that I am a very much-wanted man in these parts. My capture—especially now—would be the biggest feather any Policeman could stick in his cap. There are others who would cheerfully shoot me in the back for what it would bring them. Hence, the sooner I get out of this part of the country, the better I will be suited. You have killed a man for a starter. That——” “But I had to,” I broke in. “It was forced on me. You know it was. There’s a limit to what a man can stand.” “I know all that,” he replied quietly. “I’m not sitting in judgment on you, Bob. I’m merely setting forth what has happened, and how we are affected thereby. Tupper got no more than he deserved, and he did not get it soon enough—from my point of view. But, as I said, you killed a man, and the killing has taken on a different color in the minds of others, since you are also accused of theft.” “Do you believe that infernal lie?” I interrupted again. It galled me to hear him enumerate those ugly details in that calm, deliberate manner. “It makes little difference what _I_ believe,” he answered patiently. “If it is any comfort to you, I can hardly conceive of you plundering the _Moon’s_ cabin. But voicing our individual beliefs is beside the point. Certain things are laid to us. Certain penalties are sure as the rising and setting of the sun, if either of us is caught and convicted. And”—he pinched his eyebrows together until little creases ran up and down his forehead, but his voice was cold, matter of fact—“if we were clean-handed as a babe unborn, we have forever damned ourselves before Canadian courts, by breaking jail. You see where we are? Forgetting these other things that we may or may not have done, of this one crime we are guilty. We can’t dodge it, if we are taken. It is a felony in itself.” “If I were a free agent,” he went on, after a momentary pause, “I would have made no attempt to escape; or having escaped, I would quit this damned country by the shortest route. But I can’t. I have got into a game that I must play to a finish. Further, I have given my word to do certain work, and in the doing of it I am bucking elements that I cannot always cope with alone. I need help. I want some one whom I can trust absolutely if he gives his word; a man I can depend upon to stick by me in a pinch. That,” he turned his gaze squarely on me, “is principally why I took long chances to get you out of the guardhouse, last night. It seemed to me I could help myself best by helping you. I will be frank. My motive was not purely altruistic. Men’s motives seldom are.”