CRIME OR CALAMITY 231
As to Glenarvan, his only fear was lest Ayrton should
return alone. If they fail to find a workman, the wagon
could not resume the journey. This might end in a delay
of many days, and Glenarvan, impatient to succeed, could
brook no delay, in his eagerness to attain his object.
Ayrton luckily had lost neither his time nor his trouble.
He appeared next morning at daybreak, accompanied by a
man who gave himself out as the blacksmith from Black-
Point Station. He was a powerful fellow, and tall, but
his features were of a low, brutal type, which did not pre-
possess anyone in his favor. But that was nothing, pro-
vided he knew his business. He scarcely spoke, and cer-
tainly he did not waste his breath in useless words.
"Is he a good workman?" said John Mangles to the quartermaster.
"I know no more about him than you do, captain," said Ayrton. "But we shall see."
The blacksmith set to work. Evidently that was his trade, as they could plainly see from the way he set about repairing the forepart of the wagon. He worked skil- fully and with uncommon energy. The Major observed that the flesh of his wrists was deeply furrowed, showing a ring of extravasated blood. It was the mark of a recent injury, which the sleeve of an old woolen shirt could not conceal. McNabbs questioned the blacksmith about those sores which looked so painful. The man continued his work without answering. Two hours more and the dam- age the carriage had sustained was made good. As to Glenarvan's horse, it was soon disposed of. The black- smith had had the forethought to bring the shoes with him. These shoes had a peculiarity which did not escape the Major; it was a trefoil clumsily cut on the back part. Mc- Nabbs pointed it out to Ayrton.
"It is the Black-Point brand," said the quartermaster. "That enables them to track any horses that may stray from the station, and prevents their being mixed with other herds."
The horse was soon shod. The blacksmith claimed his wage, and went off without uttering four words.
Half an hour later, the travelers were on the road. Be- yond the grove of mimosas was a stretch of sparsely tim- bered country, which quite deserved its name of " open
