In justice to his mother Ben had to tell Ian something of the recent strange happenings at the Point. He told of little Marion Sherwood’s arrival, of her father’s flight from French River and the suspicions of the deputy sheriff and of the elaborate destruction of the red pirogue, but he did not mention the thefts. He feared that Ian McAllister’s attitude toward a thief, even a hungry and harmless thief, would not be as charitable as his own or his mother’s or his Uncle Jim’s.
“Mother’s more afraid for the little girl than for herself,” he said. “Coming to us like that, all alone in the pirogue, mother wouldn’t have anything happen to her for the world. She doesn’t want her to be frightened, even. Whatever Richard Sherwood may have done, the poor little girl is innocent.”
“Well, I ain’t surprised to hear that Sherwood’s shot that feller Balenger,” said Ian. “Sherwood’s been headin’ for destruction a long time now, what with one foolishness an’ another—an’ Balenger needed shootin’. But Sherwood hadn’t ought to of done it, for all that! That’s what comes of bein’ wild an’ keepin’ it up.”
“I don’t believe Sherwood did it,” said Ben. “He was my father’s friend once and Uncle Jim says he was a good sportsman, so I don’t believe he would ever be coward enough to shoot an unarmed man.”
“Ye never can tell,” returned Ian, wagging his head. “Louis Balenger led him a dog’s life for years, so I’ve heard tell, an’ I reckon his spirit was jist about broke by the time Louis shot a hole in him an’ beat it. He lived quiet enough an’ law-abidin’ all the years Balenger was away, I guess; an’ now it looks like Balenger had come back to French River to start some more divilment an’ Sherwood had up an’ shot ’im. Sure it was cowardly—but once ye break a man’s spirit, no matter how brave he was once, ye make a coward of him. If he didn’t do it, why did he run away?”
“That’s what I can’t figure out, Uncle Ian—but it seems to me a good sportsman might be broken down to some kinds of cowardice and not others. His nerves might get so’s they’d fail him without his—well, without his soul turning coward—or even his heart. There’s many a good horse that shies at a bit of paper on the road that has the heart to pull on a load till it drops.”