"Well, you've come!" he said in a lifeless tone. "I could have
killed you, one or two of you, but I won't. I may be a thief, but
not a murderer. Besides, there are probably more of you back there
in the trees."

"On the contrary," smiled the Major, "we are only three. We are not
armed. So you see you might easily kill us all. But why you should want
to, and why you expected us, when the last thing we thought to do was to
land in your wheat-field last night, is more than I can guess."

"Landed?" The man's face showed his bewilderment.

"I know," exclaimed Bruce impulsively, "I'll explain. You're
Timmie--Timmie--" he hesitated. "Well, anyway, that's your first name. I
know all about you--"

Again the man's trembling hand half-reached for the rifle.

"Then--then you have--come for me," he choked.

Bruce, realizing his mistake, hastened to correct it.

"You're mistaken," he said quickly. "We haven't come for you in the
way you mean. You won't need to go a step with us unless that is your
wish. Timmie, we're here to help you; to tell you that you were
forgiven long ago."

"Is--is that true?" The man faltered. "The logging company?"

"The partners are dead. Their only heir, La Vaune, forgives you."