The hue and cry rose and died; the sheriff from the plains did his duty;but no trace of the murderer was found. Indeed, at the first it was notknown positively who had done the deed; a dozen might have had motivefor the act. Only by the process of elimination was the truth come at.No one could say which way the fugitive had gone. Jim Pollock, underpressure, admitted that his brother had stormed against the door, hadtold the awakened inmates that his wife was dead and that he was goingaway. Immediately on making this statement, he had clattered off. Jimsteadfastly maintained that his brother had given no inkling of whitherhe fled. Simeon Wright's cattle, on their way to the high country, filedpast. The cowboys listened to the news with interest, and a delightwhich they did not attempt to conceal. They denied having seen thefugitive. The sheriff questioned them perfunctorily. He knew the breed.George Pollock might have breakfasted with them for all that the denialsassured him.
There appeared shortly on the scene of action a United States marshal.The murder of a government official was serious. Against the criminalthe power of the nation was deployed. Nevertheless, in the long run,George Pollock got clean away. Nobody saw him from that day--or nobodywould acknowledge to have seen him.
For awhile Bob expected at any moment to be summoned for his testimony.He was morally certain that Oldham had been an eye-witness to thetragedy. But as time went on, and no faintest indication manifesteditself that he could have been connected with the matter, he concludedhimself mistaken. Oldham could have had no motive in concealment, savethat of the same sympathy Bob had felt for Pollock. But in that case,what more natural than that he should mention the matter privately toBob? If, on the other hand, he had any desire to further the ends of thelaw, what should prevent him from speaking out publicly? In neither casewas silence compatible with knowledge.
But Bob knew positively the man had lied, when he stated that he had forover an hour been sitting in the chair on Auntie Belle's back porch. Whyhad he done so? Where had he been? Bob could not hazard even the wildestguess. Oldham's status with Baker was mysterious; his occasionalbusiness in these parts--it might well be that Oldham thought he hadsomething to conceal from Bob. In that case, where had the elder manbeen, and what was he about during that fatal hour that Sunday morning?Bob was not conversant with the affairs of the Power Company, but heknew vaguely that Baker was always shrewdly reaching out for new rightsand privileges, for fresh opportunities which the other fellow had notyet seen and which he had no desire that the other fellow should seeuntil too late. It might be that Oldham was on some such errand. In therush of beginning the season's work, the question gradually faded fromBob's thoughts.
Forest Reserve matters locally went into the hands of a receiver. Thatis to say, the work of supervision fell to Plant's head-ranger, whilePlant's office was overhauled and straightened out by a clerk sent onfrom Washington. Forest Reserve matters nationally, however, were on adifferent footing. The numerous members of Congress who desired to leavethings as they were, the still more numerous officials of the interesteddepartments, the swarming petty politicians dealing direct with smallpatronage--all these powerful interests were unable satisfactorily toanswer one common-sense question; why is the management of our ForestReserves left to a Land Office already busy, already doubted, when wehave organized and equipped a Bureau of Forestry consisting of trained,enthusiastic and honest men? Reluctantly the transfer was made. Theforestry men picked up the tangle that incompetent, perfunctory andoften venal management had dropped.