When, however, they saw the abject terror of the Faith Healer as he
begged not to be left alone with Tim--for they had not meant death,
and Ingles thought he read death in Tim's ferocious eyes--they laughed
cynically, and left it to Tim to uphold the honour of Jansen and the
Pioneers.
As they disappeared, the last thing they saw was Tim with his back to
them, his hands on his hips, and a knife clasped in his fingers.
"He'll lift his scalp and make a monk of him," chuckled the oldest and
hardest of them.
"Dat Tim will cut his heart out, I t'ink-bagosh!" said Nicolle Terasse,
and took a drink of white-whiskey. For a long time Tim stood looking at
the other, until no sound came from the woods, whither the Pioneers had
gone. Then at last, slowly, and with no roughness, as the terror-
stricken impostor shrank and withered, he cut the cords.
"Dress yourself," he said shortly, and sat down beside the stream, and
washed his face and hands, as though to cleanse them from contamination.
He appeared to take no notice of the other, though his ears keenly noted
every movement.
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