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authornfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>2025-03-03 07:12:38 -0800
committernfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>2025-03-03 07:12:38 -0800
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Add files from ibiblio as of 2025-03-03 07:12:38HEADmain
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-<title></title>
-<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" />
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-<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Ralph S. Kendall" />
-<meta name="DC.Created" content="1918" />
-<meta name="PG.Id" content="41889" />
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-<div class="document">
-
-
-<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet -->
-<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats -->
-<!-- default transition -->
-<!-- default attribution -->
-<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- -->
-<div class="level-2 section" id="benton-of-the-royal-mounted">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>BENTON OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED</span></h2>
-<div class="clearpage">
-</div>
-<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- -->
-<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
-<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span>
-included with this eBook or online at
-</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p>
-<p class="noindent pnext"></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
-</div>
-<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header">
-<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: Benton of the Royal Mounted
-<br />
-<br />Author: Ralph S. Kendall
-<br />
-<br />Release Date: January 20, 2013 [EBook #41889]
-<br />
-<br />Language: English
-<br />
-<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
-</div>
-<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>BENTON OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED</span><span> ***</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
-</div>
-<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="clearpage">
-</div>
-<div class="align-None container titlepage">
-<p class="center pfirst"><span>BENTON
-<br />OF THE
-<br />ROYAL MOUNTED</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="center pfirst"><span>A TALE OF THE ROYAL
-<br />NORTHWEST MOUNTED POLICE</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="center pfirst"><span>BY
-<br />RALPH S. KENDALL</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="center line"><span>“Let us now praise famous men”—</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="center line"><span>Men of little showing—</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="center line"><span>For their work continueth,</span></div>
-<div class="center line"><span>And their work continueth,</span></div>
-<div class="center line"><span>Broad and deep continueth,</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="center line"><span>Greater than their knowing!</span></div>
-<div class="center line"> </div>
-</div>
-<div class="center line"><span class="small-caps">—Kipling</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="center pfirst"><span>GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP
-<br />PUBLISHERS—NEW YORK</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="align-None container">
-<p class="center pfirst"><span>Copyright 1918 by John Lane Company</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="clearpage">
-</div>
-<div class="align-None container">
-<p class="left pfirst"><span class="larger">FOREWORD</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left pfirst"><span>The scenes of this story belong to bygone
-days. As the passer-by views the ugly
-half-constructed railway terminus which
-now sprawls itself over the original site of that historic
-group of Police buildings, known as the “Post,”
-little does he appreciate the pangs of real regret
-which stir the hearts of old members of the Force,
-as they recall associations of earlier years.</span></p>
-<p class="left pnext"><span>Scattered now beyond the writer’s ken are those
-good fellows with whom he served in years gone by.
-They were men of a type fast disappearing, with
-whom any one would have been proud to associate
-and call “comrades.” No longer do those once orderly
-grounds resound with the clear notes of the
-trumpet-call, the neighing of troop-horses, or the
-harsh-barked word of command. Gone is the old
-Guardroom at the gates of the main entrance. The
-spot where the O.C.’s house lay half hidden amidst
-its clustering shrubbery and trim, well-kept lawn and
-kitchen garden, is now but a drab area of railway
-tracks. Missing is the towering flag staff, from
-whose top-gaff, visible for miles around, there flew
-from “Reveille” to “Retreat” the brave emblem
-of our Empire.</span></p>
-<p class="left pnext"><span>But today, while these lines are being penned,
-many members and ex-members of the old Force are
-still sternly serving that flag; gaining well-deserved
-military honors, shedding their blood, and laying
-down their lives in the great and terrible struggle for
-supremacy between Human Liberty, and Iron Oppression
-that overshadows the world.</span></p>
-<p class="left pnext"><span>Aye! ... small wonder that the sight of the old
-spot awakens strange memories in those of us who
-were stationed there in our youth. Members of a
-force of comparatively small numbers, it is true, but
-with a reputation for efficiency, discipline, and stern
-adherence to duty which has rarely been equaled, and
-is too widely known to need any further eulogy in
-this story.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left pfirst"><span>—R. S. K.</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="clearpage">
-</div>
-<div class="align-None container">
-<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">PART I</span></p>
-</div>
-<!-- -->
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-i">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER I</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“We’ve some of us prospered, and some of us failed.</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>But we all of us heave a sigh</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>When we think of the times that we used to have</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>In those happy days gone by.</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>When we used to whistle, and work, and sing,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Make love, drink, gamble, and have our fling;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Caring little for what the morrow might bring—</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>In those good old days gone by.”</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">Memories</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>With the outlines of its shadowy white
-walls and dark roof silhouetted in sharp
-relief against a glorious full moon, the
-big main building of the old Mounted Police Post of
-L Division stood forth—like a lone monument to
-the majesty of British Law. A turfed “square,”
-framed within a border of whitewashed stones, lay
-at its front like a black carpet. Clustered about the
-central structure were the long, low-lying guardroom,
-stables, quartermaster’s store, and several smaller
-adjacent buildings comprising “the Barracks.”
-Stray patches of silvery light illuminated the dark
-recesses between them. It was a perfect night following
-an unparalleled June day in sunny South Alberta.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The “Post,” with its shadowy outlines, presented
-a striking contrast to its activity by day. In the daytime
-gangs of prisoners in their checkered jail garb
-were to be seen tramping sedately here and there, engaged
-on various jobs about the carefully kept
-grounds. An armed “escort” followed grimly behind
-each gang. Police teams, hitched to buck-boards
-and heavy, high-seated transport wagons,
-arrived and departed with a clatter. Mounted men,
-on big upstanding horses, came and went continually,
-each rider intent upon his own particular mission.
-At the guardroom, the quartermaster’s store,
-and the orderly-room the same ordered action and
-busy preoccupation were noticeable.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The only sounds that disturbed the peaceful serenity
-of the moonlit scene proceeded from a lighted
-open window in the center of the main building,
-where the men’s quarters and the regimental canteen
-were located. An uproarious hilarity resounded
-through the stillness; the shrill yaps of a
-pup and the tinkling of a piano rising above the
-tumult of song and laughter.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>These jovial evidences of good fellowship floated
-across the square, not unwelcomely, to the ears of
-a solitary rider, whose weary horse was bearing him
-slowly along the hard graveled driveway which led
-from the main gateway to the stables. Dismounting
-somewhat stiffly, the man stood for a moment,
-listening to the sounds of revelry. He gazed silently
-toward the beacon of good cheer which seemed
-to beckon him. Then suddenly turning on his heel,
-he trudged wearily on to his destination, leading his
-mount.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>After spending half an hour or more in off-saddling,
-rubbing down, and attending scrupulously, if
-mechanically, to his animal’s wants, the horseman
-emerged from the stable, locked the door, and
-walked slowly across the square to the Canteen.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Duly arriving at his cheerful haven, the newcomer
-opened the canteen door and for a moment
-or two silently contemplated the all-familiar scene
-of a large, well-lighted room with a bar at one end,
-behind which, on rows of shelves, were stacked various
-kinds of dry provisions, tobacco in all its forms,
-and miscellaneous odds and ends of a mounted policeman’s
-requirements supplementary to his regular
-“kit.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Seated around small tables, playing cards, or else
-perched upon high stools against the bar, he beheld
-a score or so of bronzed, soldierly-looking men of
-all ages, ranging from twenty to forty. They were
-dressed variously—some in the regulation uniform
-of the Force—i.e., scarlet serge tunic, dark-blue
-cord riding-breeches with the broad yellow stripe
-down the side, and high brown “Strathcona” boots
-with straight-shanked, “cavalry jack” spurs attached.
-Some again—with an eye to comfort
-alone—just in loose, easy, brown duck “fatigue
-slacks.” Many of the older members might have
-been remarked wearing the active-service ribbons of
-former campaigns in which they had served.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Their day’s duty over, careless and jovial they sat,
-amidst the tobacco-smoke-hazy atmosphere, smoking
-and drinking their beer and exchanging good-natured
-repartee which occasionally was of a nature
-that has caused a certain great writer to affirm, with
-well-grounded conviction, that “single men in barricks
-don’t grow into plaster saints.” Poor enough
-stuff it was for the most part, I fancy, but there! ...
-we were easily satisfied—we were not inclined to
-be over-fastidious in the Canteen, and anyhow ...
-it passed the time away.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>At the piano was an ex-Dublin Fusileer, with a
-comical face and an accent suggestive of “Silver
-Street,” who acted as general accompanyist. His
-own vocal talent was being contributed just now, and
-a chorus of shouts, banging of beer tankards and
-stamping of feet greeted the final verse of his song,
-the burden of which was—</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“An’ whin we gits to Donnybrook Fair, comes Thady, with his fiddle,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>An’ all th’ bhoys an’ colleens there a-dancin’ down th’ middle;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Shpuds, shillaleghs, pigs an’ potheen—all as ye thrapsed along—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Hurroo! for a chune on th’ nob av ’um who’d intherrrupt me song!”.</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>A little fox terrier pup, clinging with ludicrous
-gravity to a somewhat precarious position behind a
-man who was perched all doubled up on one of the
-high stools aforesaid, growled and snapped with
-puppy viciousness at all teasing attempts to dislodge
-him, adding to the general uproar. His master,
-Constable Markham, who, from certain indisputably
-“simian” peculiarities of feature and habits, was
-not inaptly designated “the Monk,” had, as the result
-of his frequent libations, succeeded in cultivating—what,
-in canteen parlance was termed—“a
-singing jag.” Now, elbows on bar, he began to
-bellow out a lone doggerel ditty for his own exclusive
-benefit. Something where each bucolic verse wound
-up with—</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“O be I I, or bain’t I I—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>I tell ee I bain’t zuch a vule as I luke!”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>The Orderly-room Sergeant, Dudley, a tall, good-looking
-fair man about thirty, who, leaning on the
-bar alongside was endeavoring amidst the din to
-carry on a conversation with a corporal named Harrison,
-turned somewhat wearily to the maudlin vocalist.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, now, for the love of Mike! ... try an’ forget
-it, Monk, do!” he drawled. “Charity begins
-at home! ... as if there wasn’t </span><em class="italics">enough</em><span> racket in
-here without you adding </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> little pipe! ... sitting
-there all humped up an’ hawkin’ away like a—old
-crow on his native muck-heap! ... Be I I, or
-bain’t I I?” he exploded, with a snort of derision
-at the other’s uncouth Somersetshire dialect, and
-after a long pause: “By gum! there’s no mistake
-about you ... you’re well named! You’d be quite
-at home in the jungle!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He faced round again to the grinning corporal.
-“Say, Harrison,” he resumed, “don’t know if Benton’s
-come in yet, do you?” He lowered his voice
-confidentially. “‘Father’s’ called him in about
-something and I want to see him directly he lands in—first
-crack out of the box.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His eyes, wandering vaguely over the noisy crowd
-as he spoke, suddenly dilated with surprised recognition
-as they lighted upon the newcomer, whose
-unobtrusive entrance amidst the general revelry had
-somehow escaped his notice.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Talk of the devil!” he ejaculated with easy incivility;
-“why here the —— is! Why, hello, Ben!
-How’s things goin’ in Elbow Vale?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The object of this familiarity, walking silently
-forward to the bar with a whimsical smile on his
-bronzed, dusty countenance, merely opened his mouth
-to which he pointed in dumb show.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Dear me!” remarked the Orderly-room Sergeant
-sympathetically, “as bad as all that? Here,
-Bob! set ’em up! ... give Sergeant Benton a
-‘long ’un’!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The “long ’un” tendered by the canteen orderly
-arrived and disappeared, another following speedily
-on top of it; their recipient then, his thirst temporarily
-appeased, turned to the two non-coms.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>There remains engraven indelibly upon the memory
-of the writer, as he recalls the striking personal
-appearance and quietly forceful character of Ellis
-Benton, a slightly saturnine, </span><em class="italics">still</em><span> face, with high,
-bold, regular features, suggestive rather of the ancient
-Roman type; coldly handsome in its clean-cut
-patrician mold but marred somewhat by a peculiar
-thin old scar, like a whip-lash, which extended from
-an angle of the grim-lipped yet tender mouth up to
-the left cheek bone. This facial disfigurement contrived
-to give him an expression of faint perpetual
-cynicism, as it were, which was accentuated by a pair
-of tired-looking pale gray eyes, deeply set under
-thick, dark, level brows—eyes which seemed to glow
-at times with a somber light like smoldering fire in
-their depths—eyes that were vaguely disturbing,
-bidding you beware of the man’s ruthless anger
-when aroused.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Altogether it was a remarkable face with its indefinable
-stamp of iron-willed, quietly reckless courage,
-indicative of a strenuous past and open with
-the possibilities for good or evil alike, as caprice
-should happen to sway its possessor’s varying moods.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And yet, strange to say, in spite of his hard-bitten,
-cynical exterior and characteristics that verged
-sometimes on actual brutality, deep, deep down in
-his complex soul Ellis Benton hid an almost womanish
-tenderness, coupled with a sensitive artistic temperament
-that few were aware of or would have
-credited. In figure he was splendidly proportioned.
-Not overly tall, but with the lean, wiry flanks, broad,
-square shoulders, and slim waist of the trained athlete
-that denoted great activity, and the possession
-of immense concentrated strength whenever he chose
-to use it. The “Stetson” hat, tipped back, exposed
-slightly graying, closely cropped brown hair. But
-the young-looking face dispelled at once the first
-impression of age, for Ellis was only thirty-eight.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His well-fitting uniform, consisting of a “stable
-jacket” of the regulation brown duck, on which were
-noticeable the “Distinguished Conduct,” and the
-“King’s” and “Queen’s” South African campaign
-ribbons, riding-breeches, boots and spurs, was thickly
-covered with dust, for he had ridden into the Post
-from his detachment which lay many weary miles to
-the south.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well,” he remarked to the Orderly-room Sergeant
-and, with significant emphasis, “what’s doin’
-now?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For the most part he spoke lazily in the slipshod,
-drawling vernacular acquired from long residence in
-the West, though when occasion arose he could revert
-naturally and easily to the educated speech of
-his early upbringing.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Dudley did not reply at first but shot a warning,
-almost imperceptible, sidelong glance towards the
-crowd, enjoining silence. Obeying the other’s gesture,
-the detachment sergeant held his peace awhile,
-and presently the two men, moving away from the
-bar, seated themselves at one of the small tables
-and began to talk together earnestly in low tones.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The clamor around them increased. Out broke
-the old barrack-room chorus “Johnny Green,” which,
-to the tune of the “Sailor’s Hornpipe” goes, as all
-Service men are aware:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“Oh, say, Johnny Green! did you ever see the Queen?</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Did you ever catch a Blue-jacket lovin’ a Marine?</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>May the Rock of Gibraltar take a runnin’ jump at Malta</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>If I ever see a nigger with a white—rum-tum.”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>“So </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>,” concluded the Orderly-room Sergeant,
-“is what the old man’s got you in for. Did you
-make a </span><em class="italics">good</em><span> job of it?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton’s pale, deeply set eyes began to glow with
-their peculiar baleful light.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Did I?” he echoed mirthlessly. “Well, I
-should smile!... An’ I’ll make a better one still
-when I go back. I’ll bash that —— till he spits
-blood!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He uttered the threat in an even, passionless, unraised
-voice, as if it were just the merest commonplace
-remark. A canteen-chant held its own with
-steady insistence:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Three—men—in-a-boat, inaboat,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Three—men—all-very-dry,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Three—men—ridin’-a-Nannygoat,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Go it you—! you’ve only one eye.</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Dudley summarized briefly, in a tense undertone,
-the thing that Benton need not be, regarding him
-closely meanwhile with slightly anxious eyes. The
-bronzed, reckless face—naturally somber when in
-repose—wore a terribly ruthless expression just
-then.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, now, forget it, Ben,” was his half joking
-admonition. “What the d—l’s the use of you runnin’
-amuck again an’ makin’ bad worse?... That
-won’t help matters one little bit ... an’ you know
-it.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ever and anon—above the roar of the Canteen,
-not unlike the booming note of a bittern amid the
-croaking and chirping of all the other lesser denizens
-of some swamp—would rise the mighty brogue
-of the genial Constable O’Hara, in a general exhortation
-to:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Come on! Fwet yure whustles an’ sing-g, ye
-scutts, with ‘gr-reat gusto.’ For ut was:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Down, down, in swate Counthy Down,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>An’ th’ pore ol’ night-watchman was jus’ passin’ roun;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Puts his hand to his nob to feel where he was hit—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Sez he “Holy Shmoke! but Oi’m—”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>The stentorian voice broke off short as the vocalist
-glanced suspiciously at the empty glass at his
-elbow which a minute before had been full.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Here,” quoth he with some heat; “who was ut
-dhrunk my beer?... Was ut you, Tabuteau?...
-Eyah, now! but thot’s a Galway man’s thrick ivry
-toime!... Fill ut up agin, an’ kape ut filled contihnuous,
-tu, ye Fenian rapparees, d’ye hear?...
-else, begob! ye can get some other shtiff tu blow the
-‘Pipes av Pan’ for ye!... Come on, now!...
-fwet yure whustles an’ opin yure thraps an’ sing-g,
-ye half-baked omadhauns! ... Now, thin! all together!
-For ut was:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Not las’ night, but th’ night behfure,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Tu tohm-cahts come a-knockin’ at th’ dhure”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Ellis remained very still for some time, staring
-at his companion with an absent, brooding face.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Just think what it’d mean,” pursued Dudley.
-“As this matter stands just now you </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> got a reasonable
-show of getting away with it; but, I tell you
-flat, old man ... a </span><em class="italics">second</em><span> edition of it wouldn’t
-go.... You know what ‘Father’s’ like in Orderly-room.
-You never know which way he’s going to
-jump.... You’d be ‘broke’ for a certainty, anyway....
-I don’t want to see your name in ‘G.O.’s’
-</span><em class="italics">that</em><span> way.... Come, now! will you be a wise guy
-an’ listen to your Uncle Dud?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Thus he pleaded with the man who was to him
-a comrade and a sincere friend.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, well,” responded Benton at last, wearily,
-with an oath. “I guess I’ll let up on that stiff this
-time. I handed him enough to last for a bit, anyway,
-so that’s some satisfaction.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He bit off the end of a cigar which the other
-handed to him, continuing: “Oh, I’ll get away
-with it all hunkadory ... been up against it before ... lots
-of times.... Guess I can make the
-grade—that is, if ‘Father’ </span><em class="italics">does</em><span> come to Orderly-room
-in anything like a good temper tomorrow.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Dudley, his point gained, got up and fetched two
-fresh tankards of beer.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Were you ever at such a howling ‘gaff’ before
-in all your life?” he remarked irritably. “I’ll bet
-‘Father’ can hear ’em right across the square
-there.” And, as a penetrating Cockney voice then
-uplifted itself, “how’s that for ‘Whitechapel’? ... listen
-to ‘Tork abaht Tompkins.’”</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Too ’ard! too ’ard! An’ th’ ol’ duck said,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>as she waddled dahn th’ yard</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>“Oh, I can ’atch a turkey or ’atch a chick</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>But I’m—if I can ’atch ’arf a brick!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>It’s a—bit bit,—bit, bit—bit bit too ’ard!”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>His audience, tickled beyond measure at the inimitable
-“coster” accent which, for many years has
-been so famously exploited by Mr. Albert Chevalier,
-egged this performer on to further efforts. Nothing
-loath, he complied, and presently the Canteen was
-shaking with:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Oh, nah I’m goin’ to be a reg’lar torff,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>A-drivin’ in me kerridge an’ me pair,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Wiv a top-’at on me ’ead, an’ fevvers in me bed</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>An’ call meself th’ “Dook of Barney-fair.”</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>“As-stir-th’-can” rahnd th’ collar o’ me coat,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>An’ a “Piccadilly winder” in me eye;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Goblimey! ’ear th’ costers a-shoutin’ in yer lug:</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>“Oh! leave us in yer will afore yer die!”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>On went the singing, shouting pandemonium.
-Benton’s face began to clear a little. He had not
-been in the Post for a long time and the homely
-racket and the beer combined, gradually had the effect
-of making him forget his troubles for the time
-being.</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>An—d ... the elephant walked round,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>And the band began to play,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>So all you beggars that cannot sing!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>You’d better get out of the way!</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>A dozen or so of unprintable “limericks” followed
-this announcement, contributed in rotation by
-various members of the community, the “elephant”
-chorus “walking around” solemnly at the conclusion
-of each one. A particularly ingenious composition
-just then drew a perfect storm of laughter from the
-genial crowd, Ellis (sad to relate) guffawing loudly
-with the rest.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Sacred Billy!” he ejaculated, grinning at Dudley,
-“but you’re sure a tough bunch in this old Post....
-Did you hear that one?... Well!... this
-is no place for a parson’s son!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Orderly-room Sergeant did not answer for a
-moment, then an expression, which was a mixture
-of amusement and disgust, slowly overspread his
-rather refined face, and a snorting, reluctant chuckle
-escaped him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Is that so?... ‘Many’s the true word spoken
-in jest’!” he retorted. “Porteous—the young
-devil who came across with </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> one, </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> a ‘parson’s
-son,’ as it happens, my boy.... His old man’s the
-Dean of some fat living or another in the South of
-England.... By George, though!... I’m getting
-just about fed up with that stuff, night after
-night.... Tip us a stave, Ben!... start in now
-and sing us something decent for a change.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He got up suddenly from the table and, lifting his
-tankard high as if for a toast, bawled “Order!”
-A slight lull followed, taking advantage of which, he
-called out:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Say, you fellows!... I propose we call on
-Sergeant Benton, here, for a song!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A vociferous assent greeted his suggestion
-immediately, and all eyes were turned on Ellis, with encouraging
-shouts of: “You bet!... That’s the
-talk! Come, on, Sergeant! please!... Order,
-there!... Shut your traps for a bit!” For, they
-all knew that when in the mood he </span><em class="italics">could</em><span> sing.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton did not move for a minute, then: “Doggone
-you!” he remarked, with a resigned sigh to
-Dudley, “</span><em class="italics">you’ve</em><span> let me in for this!... An’ I just
-wanted to sit here quiet!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He quaffed a long draught of beer and got up
-though presently and, sauntering over to the piano
-which O’Hara promptly vacated for him, seated
-himself. A comparative quiet ensued. Even “the
-Monk’s” maudlin ribaldry ceased, and that worthy
-becoming interested, he slewed around on his perch
-so as to hear the better, unceremoniously shoving off
-his faithful pup—“Kid”—in the movement, which
-sent that canine with a hasty “flop” to the floor.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With the hard lines of his face momentarily softened
-with an expression of genial bonhomie, the
-Sergeant toyed absently with the keys for a space,
-thinking of something appropriate for that hilarious
-company; then suddenly, a clear baritone voice of
-remarkable depth and richness, rang out in the old
-familiar song of “Mandalay”:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“Come you back to Mandalay,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Where the old Flotilla lay:</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Can’t you ’ear their paddles chunkin’ from</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>Rangoon to Mandalay?</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>On the road to Mandalay,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Where the flyin’-fishes play,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>China ’crost the Bay!”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>The last verse but one begins, as you know, with
-the sort of irritable abandon typical of a soldier’s
-“grouse”:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Where there aren’t no Ten Commandments an’ a man can raise a thirst;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>For the temple-bells are callin’, an’ it’s there that I would be—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin’ lazy at the sea;”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>He finished the rollicking old ballad amid thundering
-applause and loud shouts of “’Core!
-’Core!” “Give us ‘In Cellar Cool’!” “Give us
-‘Father O’Flynn’!” etc. But just then the clear,
-long-drawn-out, sweet notes of a trumpet-call sounded
-outside on the square. The Orderly-room Sergeant
-looked at his watch.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Hello!... Didn’t know it was so late!” he
-ejaculated. “Come on, there! Turn out!...
-‘First Post’s’ just gone!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And the Canteen gradually emptied as the men departed
-noisily to their respective barrack-rooms.</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-ii">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER II</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>A man severe he was, and stern to view;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>I knew him well, and every truant knew:</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Well had the boding tremblers learn’d to trace</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>The day’s disasters in his morning face;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>At all his jokes, and many a joke had he;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Full well the busy whisper circling round,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Convey’d the dismal tidings when he frown’d.</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">Goldsmith</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Captain Richard Bargrave, Superintendent
-of L Division—better known by
-the fond appellation of “Father”—sauntered
-slowly along the narrow sidewalk leading from
-his quarters to the orderly-room; the aged black-and-white
-setter “Bob,” his constant companion, keeping
-step behind.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>How well many of us can recall that tall, spare,
-soldierly figure, and the walk with its faint suggestion
-of old-fashioned cavalry swagger, while the
-whispers of “Look out! here’s Father coming now!”
-sent us all scuttling about our duties. How we used
-to fume and curse (behind his back) at his numerous
-erratic bursts of temper and little eccentricities.
-How his polished sarcasm and fluent adjectives used
-to curl us up and, incidentally—excite our envy.
-And yet—how we learned to trust and respect that
-irascible but kindly old aristocratic face, with its
-sweeping fair mustache. Aye!—</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>He passed as a Man in our critical eyes,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Stern, yet kindly—simple, yet wise.</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Who’d upheld his rank since his service began</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>As “An Officer, and ... a Gentleman.”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>“Father’s a rum old beggar but, begad, he’s a
-gentleman and always gives you a square deal,” was
-our invariable retort to divers disparaging criticisms
-from members of other divisions, less fortunate, perhaps,
-in the stamp of their own particular “Officer
-Commanding.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton, who, attired in a red serge tunic—borrowed
-from Dudley for the occasion—was looking
-through the billiard-room window, watched his approach
-with interest. When nearing the orderly-room
-the old dog, seeing “the Monk’s” pup in supreme
-possession of the step, jumped forward with a
-threatening growl to eject the usurper of his own
-customary lounge. In the scuffle that ensued they
-got between “Father’s” legs and nearly upset him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Damn the dogs! Damn the dogs!” he chuckled
-softly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, stepping over them carefully, with a fond,
-benevolent smile, he passed on through the open
-door, half humming, half whistling a hymn tune,
-which was not, however, prompted by especial piety.
-It was a habit of his. But to the observant sergeant
-it was an omen.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“He </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> in a good temper,” he muttered with relief,
-and quietly he awaited the summons that he
-knew must come.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It came presently. “Sergeant Major!... Oh,
-Sergeant Major!” came the thin, high, cultured
-voice. “Has Sergeant Benton reported in yet from
-Elbow Vale?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The gruff official holding that rank and who was
-familiar to most members of the Division as
-“Mickey,” saluted and replied in the affirmative.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Send him in!” came the order, and shortly Ellis
-found himself standing at “attention,” facing his
-seated superior.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“That will do, Sergeant Major!... Kindly
-close the door,” and they were alone.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>There was silence for a moment or two, during
-which the O.C. rummaged amongst some letters on
-his desk. He found the one he wanted and scrutinized
-it carefully. “Sergeant Benton,” he began,
-with a sudden snap in his tones and a quick upward
-glance that strung that individual up to tense expectancy,
-“I have here a letter—an </span><em class="italics">anonymous</em><span>
-letter—accusing you-of-grossly and maliciously-assaulting
-a well known and respected citizen of Elbow
-Vale on the night of the twelfth instance.... Motive
-unknown—all names—with the exception of
-your own—omitted. Said assault of such severe
-character that its recipient is still confined to bed.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now, sir!... although I generally make a
-rule of treating anonymous correspondence with
-the contempt it deserves—there seems something
-vaguely familiar in this handwriting that inclines me
-on this occasion to revoke my usual practise, and
-make a few inquiries into this puzzle. I look to
-you for the key. You have the reputation of being
-a truthful man in this Division.... Is the statement
-in this letter correct?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton hesitated. “As far as the assault goes,
-yes, sir,” he said finally.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What led to this assault?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant hesitated again. “A dirty slander,
-sir, connecting me with a married woman in the
-town,” he said.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Captain tapped with his pen and eyed Ellis
-keenly. “</span><em class="italics">Was</em><span> it a slander?” he queried quizzically—and
-then repented, for there was a look on that
-reckless but gentlemanly face that dispelled all doubt—even
-before the man’s answer came.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Ah, well, then,” said the O.C., “that accounts
-for this letter being anonymous. Now give me all
-names and particulars of this affair.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant did so and the Captain’s face darkened
-as he listened. “So that’s who it is, eh?” he
-muttered thoughtfully. “Thought I knew that
-writing again.... I remember the man—well—but
-I don’t think I’ve ever met the lady.” And the
-fair mustache was twirled gallantly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The recital finished by the Sergeant remarking:
-“I couldn’t very well—under the circumstances, sir—lay
-a charge, or act otherwise than I did—without
-dragging the lady’s name into this miserable affair.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“You’ve no business going about assaulting people,
-anyway,” retorted the old gentleman irascibly,
-with one of his characteristic changes of front.
-“And though it is not my intention to take any further
-notice of this unsigned epistle, as I am fully
-convinced you have told me the absolute truth—I
-do not think it would be good policy to send a man
-with your pugilistic tendencies back to this locality
-again. Let’s see,” he mused aloud, “you’re a good
-range man. I think I’ll transfer you to Cherry
-Creek, where you will be, I hope, beyond all
-temptation of getting involved again in any more of these—ah—social
-misunderstandings (Ellis groaned inwardly).
-Arrange for your kit to be sent in from
-Elbow Vale and proceed to Cherry Creek. I will
-give you a written order for Corporal Williamson
-to hand over the detachment to you and to come
-in to the Post. He seems to have been getting slack,
-for there are a lot of stock-rustling complaints coming
-in from his district lately. See if you cannot
-effect a change in present conditions there.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well!” he grunted impatiently, as the Sergeant
-halted irresolutely at the door, “what is it?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Benton, “but can
-I keep the same horse?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, I suppose—I suppose,” said the O.C. testily.
-“Damme, sir!... You’ve had that cursed
-horse transferred from every detachment you’ve
-been stationed at!” He fussed with some papers.
-“You’d better tell Williamson then, to ride in, and
-the next man who goes to Elbow Vale can take </span><em class="italics">his</em><span>
-horse. That is all, Sergeant.... Report to the
-Sergeant-Major of your transfer.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>In the passage Ellis encountered the Sergeant-Major
-and Dudley. “Banishment—physically,
-socially, and morally—right back to the ‘bald-headed’
-again!” he plainted dismally to their inquiring
-grins. “Father intimating in his own happy
-fashion that I wasn’t quite civilized enough to hold
-down a Line detachment.... Cherry Creek!...
-O Lord!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Inside the orderly-room the Captain, meanwhile,
-was slowly pacing backwards and forwards, hands
-clasped behind back. Through his teeth he softly
-hissed one of his eternal hymn tunes, which he suddenly
-broke off short to ejaculate with a low-toned,
-jerky abruptness to himself—“D—n the man!—d—n
-the man! Don’t blame him! Couldn’t tell
-him so, though! Thought I knew that writing!
-D—d cad, that fellow Cooper!... Knew him
-years ago! D—d rascal! Glad Benton thrashed
-him! Done the same myself!—younger days!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He resumed his interrupted hymn.</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iii">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER III</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Therefore, Christian men be sure,</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>Wealth or rank possessing,</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>Ye who now will bless the poor,</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>Shall yourselves find blessing.</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">Good King Wenceslas</span><span>. (</span><em class="italics">Old Carol</em><span>)</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Three weeks elapsed and Benton again
-showed up in the Post with the first fruits
-of his new scene of operations—two prisoners
-committed for trial on a charge of cattle stealing.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His had been a weary watch for many nights,
-but he had caught his men at last, slaughtering stolen
-beef cattle in an old deserted corral at three o’clock
-in the morning. He looked worn out and had a
-black eye, received in the rough-and-tumble arrest
-that had followed.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Captain was secretly pleased, but to Ellis he
-evinced little sign of his satisfaction. “Praise men
-up—spoil ’em! Let ’em think it’s their ordinary
-course of duty,” was his customary maxim.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Good man, that Benton,” he muttered to himself
-during one of his office pacings. “He’ll
-straighten that Cherry Creek district out before
-long.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He gave the Sergeant three days’ rest, though,
-and spoke about transferring him a man if required,
-which offer Ellis declined, however. With his taciturn
-and secretive nature he preferred to follow
-alone, and in various disguises, the tortuous windings
-of stock cases, calmly relying on his own great
-strength, cunning, and ability with gun and fist, to
-effect any arrest.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The four-fifteen West-bound carried him as a passenger
-back to Sabbano, his nearest railway depot,
-the detachment being on the prairies forty miles
-away from the line. It was raining, and Ellis felt
-miserable as he gazed through the window and contemplated
-the wet, cheerless ride he would have in
-the morning.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He vaguely thought of “Johnny” waiting for
-him in Sergeant Churchill’s stable at Sabbano. Was
-he being properly looked after? Churchill was a
-“booze artist,” d—n him, and like as not he’d neglect
-him, like he did his own horse.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was aroused from his gloomy abstraction by
-something tugging at his riding-crop and, turning his
-eyes he beheld a little curly-headed tot leaning over
-the back of the seat ahead of him. She was perhaps
-about three years old, and her blue eyes were sparkling
-with determination as she pulled at the leather
-thong with all her baby strength, in a desperate effort
-to possess herself of the desired treasure.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton’s moody face immediately softened with
-a friendly grin. He loved children and they instinctively
-came to him without fear.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Hello, Sis,” he said. “You want it?” and he
-surrendered the coveted plaything, which she immediately
-started to flourish with great glee. The
-mother, a thin, shabbily dressed, careworn-looking
-young woman about thirty, looked on with a loving
-smile that glorified her poor, pinched face.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, Nellie, Nellie,” she said reprovingly; “you
-mustn’t—you’ll hit somebody” and she turned to
-Benton, saying, “I hope my little girl isn’t worrying
-you?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Not a bit—not a bit,” he returned cheerily.
-“Kids are welcome to tease me any old time.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Scrambling down from her perch, the little one
-gazed at his uniform with lively interest and tentatively
-tapped his boots and the rowels of his spurs
-with the crop. “Toldier,” she lisped, and without
-more ado she climbed up beside him on the seat and,
-putting her little arms around his neck, gave him a
-genuine loving hug and kiss which fairly took him
-by storm and caused broad laughs of amusement to
-come from those sitting near.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The touch of those baby lips awoke a strange
-longing in the heart of the lonely man, and a dreamy,
-far-away look momentarily softened his hard face.
-To have a comfortable home to come back to every
-night, and not to be chased around here, there, and
-everywhere at the whims of the powers that be.
-To be happily married to a loving girl-wife, and
-have kiddies that would climb all over you, and run
-after you, and where you could lie on the sands, in
-the sun, by the sea, somewhere, and watch ’em playing—</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A sudden exclamation from the mother awoke him
-sharply from his reverie.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What’s the matter?” he asked. She seemed
-terribly agitated. “Oh!” she said; “I’ve lost my
-hand-bag, and my ticket was in it and some money!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Were you sitting here all the time since you got
-on the train?” he inquired.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No,” she answered; “I was on that seat at the
-far end when I first came in this coach.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He got up and, walking down the aisle, made a
-thorough search of the place that she indicated, but
-his efforts were fruitless. It was a little brown
-Morocco-leather bag, she informed him, with her
-name, “Elizabeth Wilson,” on it, under a celluloid
-panel.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Who was sitting by you?” he asked. “D’you
-think you could recognize the person again?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head despondently. “Oh, I don’t
-remember,” she wailed. “My girlie was crying,
-and in trying to quiet her I guess I didn’t notice anybody
-in particular.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“How much money was in your bag?” he asked.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Twenty-five dollars,” she said brokenly. “I
-am going to Vancouver to look for a position, and
-it’s all I have in the world. Oh, what shall we do,
-my baby and I?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis eyed the forlorn face a moment or two in
-silent commiseration; then, seeking out the conductor,
-whom he knew well, explained the situation.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes, I mind ’em getting on at Calgary,” said
-that official; “and she had a ticket through to Vancouver,
-all right.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Say, Bob,” the Sergeant persuaded, “that bag’s
-been pinched off her without a doubt; but as she’s
-no suspicion of anybody I can’t very well search every
-one on the bloomin’ train, and I’m getting off in a
-minute at Sabbano—be a good fellow and pass her
-on to Vancouver.... She’s dead up against it.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The kind-hearted conductor agreed, and with an
-easier mind Ellis went back to the woman and told
-her.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The train began to slow down—“Sabbano—Sabbano!”
-called out the brakeman, passing through
-the coaches. The Sergeant reached into his pocket
-and, drawing out a roll of bills, pressed them into
-her hand.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“There,” he said gently. “That’ll keep you going
-in Vancouver for a time, and I hope you’ll soon
-strike something.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Speechless with gratitude at the man’s impulsive
-generosity, she gazed at him dumbly, with dim eyes.
-Her mouth worked but somehow the words would
-not come. She choked, and hiding her face in her
-hands, sank down on the seat, the poor, thin shoulders
-under the cheap blouse shaking with her convulsive
-sobbing.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The child, still clutching the crop, which Ellis had
-not the heart to retrieve, set up a shrill wail in sympathy
-and clung to his leg. More moved than he
-cared to show, but utterly indifferent to the slightly
-ludicrous side of the situation, the policeman strove
-to quiet her.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, come now, Sis,” he pleaded coaxingly.
-“Mustn’t cry.... Let go of me for a minute....
-I’m coming back!... Here,” and producing a pen-knife,
-he sliced off one of the lower buttons of his
-pea-jacket.... “There, give me a kiss.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The whimpers slowly ceased, and her little face
-brightened as she clutched the shining treasure and,
-drawing his face down to hers, she pressed her little
-rosebud of a mouth to his.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Disengaging the tiny arms gently, with a whispered
-“Good-by,” he ran to the end of the coach and
-dropped off as the train moved out.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was only characteristic of the man’s strange,
-impulsive, complex nature that he should have done
-this thing, but how much money was there in that
-roll of bills? Ellis himself, offhand, could hardly
-have told you.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>As in the rain he wended his way along the
-wet platform, the station agent came up to him,
-“Here’s the key of the detachment, Sergeant,” he
-said; “Churchill’s gone West on that train to Parson’s
-Lake. He’s coming back on Number Two
-in the morning and he asked me to give it to you—didn’t
-you see him?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No,” said Ellis shortly. “I wasn’t able to get
-off till it was on the move.... Guess Churchill got
-on another coach.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Not particularly sorry at the other’s absence, he
-walked on to the end of the little town where the
-detachment was situated. The place smelled musty
-and stale as he entered. Papers, old letters, and
-torn novels lay littered about the local sergeant’s
-desk. The bed was not made up and various items
-of kit were strewn around. Everything seemed
-covered with a thick accumulation of dust.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Nasty, lazy, slovenly devil,” he growled.
-“Lord, what a pig-pen! Inspector Purvis’ll happen
-along down here, unexpected, one of these days.
-</span><em class="italics">Then</em><span> there’ll be something doing.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He passed on through the back door to the stable,
-where a joyous whinny from “Johnny” greeted
-him. He led the horse out along with the
-Sergeant’s and watered them, their greedy thirst drawing
-a savage curse from him. “Takes d—d good
-care never to go dry himself,” he muttered.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>After grooming Johnny down he went into the
-kitchen and rummaged around until he found two
-or three pieces of lump sugar, at the sight of which
-the horse began to nicker softly and raised its nigh
-forefoot, bending the limb back for a piece to be inserted
-into the fetlock-joint, where it was promptly
-licked out.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was a superb, powerfully-built black, with
-white hind fetlocks, standing fully sixteen hands, well
-ribbed up, with the short back, strong, flat-boned
-legs, and good, sloping shoulders of the ideal saddle-horse.
-Benton had had him for over three years
-and was passionately attached to the animal.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He petted Johnny awhile then, fixing both horses
-up for the night, he went down to the only restaurant
-the little town boasted—a Chinese establishment—and
-got some supper. This despatched, he retraced
-his steps and mooned around the dirty detachment,
-where he tried to read; but his thoughts,
-ever and anon, kept reverting to the little cherubic
-face of the child on the train, with her hollow-cheeked
-mother, and he found himself vaguely wondering
-how far away they were by now.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at his watch. It was about twenty
-minutes to ten and, feeling inclined for a drink, he
-strolled down town again and, entering the bar of
-the Golden West Hotel, ordered a glass of beer.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>There were about half a dozen men in the bar who,
-after gazing awhile at his uniformed figure and
-seeing he was not the convivial Churchill, eyed him
-with sullen distrust. His gaze flickered over them
-casually, but knowing nobody there but the bartender,
-he kept aloof.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly, amid the babel of talk, a drunken, nasal
-voice made itself heard:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, you Harry! Say, wha’s dat dere wit de
-yaller laigs?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Glancing sharply towards the end of the bar, he
-became aware of two flashily dressed, undesirable-looking
-individuals of the type that usually makes
-an easy living preying upon the unfortunate denizens
-of the underworld, sizing him up.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The one accosted as “Harry,” a big, heavily-built
-man about thirty, with a sneer on his evilly
-handsome, sinister face, answered slowly:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>. I guess he must be one of them
-Mounted Police ginks you hear tell of over our side
-of the Line. Kind of ‘prairie cop,’” he added contemptuously,
-and spat.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The epithet of “cop” was one held in peculiar
-detestation by members of the Force and, coupled
-with the fellow’s offensive manner, became a gratuitous
-insult that was almost more than the Sergeant
-could stand, for a slight titter followed, and
-all the faces—with the exception of the bartender’s-wore
-a sardonic grin at the policeman’s discomfiture.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Choking with silent fury, he glowered warily with
-swift calculation around him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No, it wouldn’t do,” he reflected. There
-would be too many witnesses, like in that last business
-at Elbow Vale; and fearful of his own ungovernable
-temper, lest any ensuing altercation should
-precipitate the inevitable right then and there, he
-held his peace.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Lowering his voice, his elbows on the bar, he spoke
-quietly to the bartender:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Who’s them two fellers at the end there, Pete—strangers?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes. I dunno who they are,” said that worthy
-in the same low tone, busy polishing glasses the
-while. “They blew in off’n the West-bound. Jest
-stiffs, I guess, Sergeant. They was laughin’ fit to
-split ’bout somethin’ when they first come in.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton finished his beer and, turning, pushed
-through the swing door, a vindictive purpose seething
-in his mind. Crossing over to the dark side of
-the street, he patiently waited.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’ll ‘vag’ the two of them,” he muttered savagely.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The rain had ceased and a few stars began to appear.
-It was nearly closing time and his watch was
-of short duration.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>At the appointed time, with much bad language
-and noisy argument, the bar slowly emptied, the
-last to leave being “Harry” and his companion;
-the latter quarrelsomely drunk, and expostulating
-with the bartender, who was escorting him to the
-door.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Gimme another drink!” he demanded.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No chance,” came the answer. “You’ve got
-enough below. Beat it!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The speech was accompanied with a sudden shove,
-and the door banged to.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Still the Sergeant waited.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aw, come on, yer crazy mutt!” he heard the
-soberer voice of Harry say, and saw him walk slowly
-on down the street, his bibulous comrade unsteadily
-following.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Keeping in the shade, Ellis noiselessly paralleled
-their direction, until they were well beyond the last
-false-fronted store and amongst some vacant lots,
-not far from the isolated detachment. He stopped
-for a moment and listened intently. Except for the
-tipsy arguing of Harry’s companion, who was still
-in the rear, all was quiet.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, you gimme half, anyway,” he heard him
-keep chanting.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Now was his chance. With two of them, he knew
-he must act quickly, and “acting quickly” was only
-a mild expression for </span><em class="italics">some</em><span> of the Sergeant’s little
-methods in his business which, though invariably attended
-with excellent results, did not, sad to relate,
-always strictly conform to the rules laid down in that
-worthy little Manual issued to all members of the
-Force for their regimental and legal guidance.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With fell intention, he crossed over swiftly to the
-drunk. It was no time for niceties in the manner
-of arrest, for the man might arouse the neighborhood,
-and the Sergeant had reasons for not being
-particularly desirous of an audience just then.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With the deadly calculation of an ex-pugilist, he
-carefully judged his distance in the dim light and
-swung a single terrific right uppercut to the point of
-the chin. The head snapped back and, with a choking
-gasp, the man fell heavily to the ground in an
-inert heap.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>At the smack and the thud of the falling body,
-Harry halted in the dark ahead.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What’s up?” he growled. “Are yer all in?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis shouldered roughly into him and, with an
-oath, the man reeled back.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why, what’s this?” he blustered and, as the
-shadowy outline of Benton’s Stetson hat in the uncertain
-light penetrated his vision, “why, it’s the
-‘</span><em class="italics">cop</em><span>’!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” said the Sergeant through his set teeth
-and, with suppressed fury, “I’ve got you now where
-I want you! I’ll give you call me ‘</span><em class="italics">cop</em><span>,’ you
-G—d—d, dirty pimp!” and he smashed in a vicious
-left drive, flush on Harry’s nose.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was a staggering blow, and the blood squirted,
-but somehow the man kept his feet and threw himself
-into a fighting posture, like one accustomed to
-using his hands.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was by far the heavier of the two, but his
-movements were slow and muscle-bound and the
-tigerishly vicious attack of the Sergeant, with all its
-concentrated hate and science behind it, paralyzed
-him. He tried to cover up, but those terrible
-punches with the giver’s vindictive “Oof—oof,”
-accompanying each blow, seemed to reach his body
-and face at will.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was all over inside of three minutes. Presently,
-ducking a savage swing from his weightier
-opponent, Ellis feinted for the jaw then, like lightning,
-drove two heavy, telling punches to that region
-termed in pugilistic parlance the “solar plexus.”
-The man, with a gasp, doubled up and sank down.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Breathing heavily after the exertion, Benton
-kneeled on him and, reaching to his hip pocket,
-dragged forth his handcuffs and snapped them on
-Harry’s wrists; then, slowly rising to his feet, he
-waited.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was still quiet all round, and he felt a fierce
-exultation at accomplishing his purpose without undue
-disturbance. Stepping over to his first victim,
-he made a quick examination, and satisfied himself
-that the man was only knocked out. He would
-come to after a time, he decided, and was probably
-more drunk than hurt. </span><em class="italics">Harry</em><span> was the one who had
-incurred his animosity the most.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Presently that individual, with a groaning curse,
-sat up and was violently sick. Then for the first
-time he became conscious of his manacled wrists and
-began to raise his voice in filthy expressions at Ellis.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Quit that talk,” said the Sergeant, in a tense,
-fierce undertone. “I don’t want any bother and
-have you waking everybody up at this time o’ night,
-I’m arresting both you fellers for vagrancy. Now,
-are you coming quiet or not?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A torrent of blasphemy greeted the suggestion.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Not you nor any other —— cop kin take me,”
-he foamed from the ground; then, suddenly kicking
-out, he caught Benton a nasty jar on the shin-bone.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The pain acted as the last straw to the exasperated
-Sergeant. With an oath, he drew from his pocket
-a small steel article known in police circles as a
-“come-along” and, clipping it on one of his prisoner’s
-wrists, he twisted viciously. The exquisite
-torture drew a shriek from the wretched man.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Shut up,” whispered Ellis savagely. “If you
-start hollerin’ again and still refuse to walk I’ll”—and
-he gave another slight twist to the wrist—“I’ll
-break your arm! Now will you come, eh?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, o-o-h. No, no; oh, don’t. Yes, yes, I’ll
-come,” came the agonized response.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“So,” said the Sergeant quietly, as he jerked the
-man to his feet. “I thought you would. Now
-don’t you start monkeyin’ no more. Step out!”
-And with his hand on the other’s collar, he guided
-him towards the detachment, which was only a short
-distance away.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>On arriving there he unlocked the door and,
-ushering his captive into the office, at the back of
-which were two cells, he leisurely removed the handcuffs
-and proceeded to search him. What with
-blood, bruises, and dirt, the man’s face was a sight,
-and Benton, his anger now somewhat assuaged, felt
-slightly uneasy as he reflected on the prisoner’s appearance
-at the morrow’s court.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Put your arms up!” he ordered, and mechanically
-dived into the coat pockets. His right hand
-encountered something square and soft, and he drew
-it out.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>At the sight of the object his eyes dilated strangely.
-Well, well; it was only a woman’s little hand-bag
-with a name printed on it under a celluloid panel—</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He read it at a quick glance and, ceasing his investigations,
-he grew curiously still. The prisoner,
-raising his head, met the Sergeant’s gaze. He
-shrank back, appalled, and a cry of fear burst from
-his mashed lips, for it seemed to him as if the devil
-himself were looking out of Benton’s ruthless eyes.
-With an indescribable bitterness of tone, the policeman
-suddenly spoke:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“You skunk,” he said; “you dirty, sneaking
-coyote. It was </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>, then, that robbed that poor
-thing with the little kiddie on the West-bound?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped and choked with his rage. Presently
-he burst out again: “Lord, Lord! but I’m glad I
-bashed you up like I did, and but for a probable
-charge of manslaughter I’d manhandle you properly.
-So </span><em class="italics">that’s</em><span> what you and your pal were laughin’ about
-when you went in to that bar? When you come to
-die—which event, may it please God to grant
-quickly—I hope that’ll be the very, very last thing
-in your memory—that you once robbed a helpless
-woman and her kid.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He remained silent after this for a space, for a
-sudden disquieting thought had occurred to him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“See here; look,” he began again. “If I put
-this charge of theft against you, it’ll mean having
-to locate and drag that woman back here all those
-weary miles, to identify her property and prove up
-the case against you.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>At his words a gleam of hope lit up the prisoner’s
-disfigured face.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“For God’s sake, policeman,” he mumbled out of
-his twisted mouth, “give us a chanct—just this
-once.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant pondered awhile. It was the
-easiest way out for himself, </span><em class="italics">and</em><span> for the woman, he
-reflected. Churchill was away and nobody would
-know anything about this business. He tipped the
-contents of the bag out. A bunch of keys, a woman’s
-handkerchief, some smelling-salts, a ticket to
-Vancouver, and various small odds and ends.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Where’s that money?” he snapped out. “Here—let’s
-go through you!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His search revealed a dollar’s worth of silver.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Dig up the rest of that twenty-five dollars!” he
-demanded.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly the other took off one of his boots, and
-from it produced two ten-dollar bills.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“We had some dough of our own when we come
-on the train,” he volunteered to Ellis’s silent look of
-interrogation, “but we got inter a poker game with
-some fellers and lost out, so we broke into the five-spot
-fer some supper and booze.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton considered a bit longer, then suddenly
-made up his mind and opened the door.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Voertsek, du verdomde schelm!</em><span>”</span><a class="footnote-reference" href="#id2" id="id1"><sup>1</sup></a><span> he said
-sharply, jerking his head towards the aperture.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The man stared at him stupidly for a moment.
-“I don’t savvy you,” he muttered.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Beat it, you d—d crook! D’you savvy </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>?”
-came the policeman’s harsh response. “Out of
-town by the first train that comes in—East or West—and
-take your pal with you.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“We ain’t got the price,” was the somewhat aggrieved
-answer.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Then take a ’tie pass,’ d—n you,” said the Sergeant
-grimly. “And mind—if I catch either of
-you fellers around this burg tomorrow morning, I’ll
-shove you both in the calaboose </span><em class="italics">and</em><span> put the boots to
-you as </span><em class="italics">well</em><span> as this charge. Now beat it, and go
-and pick up your pal!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Harry waited for no further invitation, but vanished
-into the night.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Wearily Ellis gathered up the contents of the bag
-and, putting in the money along, closed it. He felt
-very tired and, lighting a cigarette, he sat down and
-tried to think.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Guess I can get it through to her,” he muttered.
-“I’ll send a wire now that’ll catch her on the train
-somewhere, and she can send me her address.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And going to the telephone he rang up the night-operator
-at the depot.</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iv">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER IV</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>And if you’re wishful, O maiden kind,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>To know concerning me;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>A far-flung sentinel am I</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Of the R. N. W. M. P.</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Renouncing women, as though wearing a cowl—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>I live for a monthly wage</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>’Way out on the bald, green-brown prairie,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>That stretches as far as the eye can see;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Where the lone gray wolf and the coyote howl,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>And the badger digs in the sage.</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">The Prairie Detachment</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>The day broke fine and clear. The hot sun
-quickly drying up the little puddles and
-sticky mud resulting from the recent downpour.
-Benton, rising early, watered and fed the
-horses. These duties despatched, and his own breakfast
-at the hotel accounted for, he leisurely proceeded
-to ascertain if the two participants in his
-previous night’s adventure had left town.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A few guarded inquiries and a brief, but thorough,
-search satisfied him on this point; so saddling up
-Johnny, and tying on his slicker, he rode slowly down
-to the depot to await the in-coming East-bound train
-prior to his departure for his lonely detachment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The train arrived, and on it, Churchill. The local
-sergeant was a man about Ellis’s own age, well
-set up and passable enough in appearance, but with
-the florid, blotchy complexion, weak mouth, and uncertain
-gaze of the habitual drinker. A few lucky
-arrests in which chance—more than pluck or ability
-had figured, coupled with a certain cleverness in
-avoiding trouble—had somehow enabled him to retain
-his stripes and the sleepy little Line detachment.
-That there was no love lost between them was very
-evident; Benton, on his side, making little effort to
-disguise the contempt he felt for the other.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was a long-standing hostility, dating back many
-years when, as recruits together in the Post, a trivial
-quarrel originating first in the Canteen, had terminated
-finally in the corral at the back of the regimental
-stables—with disastrous results to Churchill—who,
-ever since this event, had not been man
-enough to forget, forgive, or attempt to get even.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A few cold civilities were exchanged, and Ellis
-remarking, “Here’s the key of your dive,” chucked
-him over that article; then with a careless “So long,”
-turned his horse and edged up nearer to the platform
-to speak to the station agent.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>On account of a small wash-out that had happened
-to the track some few miles east, the train was
-held up for a short time, and the platform was
-crowded with passengers who were strolling up and
-down, glad of the opportunity to stretch their legs
-after their long confinement.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton, less impatient than Johnny, who was pawing,
-eager to be off, was watching them absently,
-when he suddenly became aware of his being, apparently,
-an object of interest to somebody standing
-near and, turning his head slightly, he beheld a tall,
-magnificently-built, dark girl, eyeing him and Johnny
-with eager curiosity and admiration.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And in very truth, handsome, saturnine-faced Ellis
-Benton, and the big, black, pawing horse that he
-bestrode with the long-stirruped, loose-seated, easy,
-careless grace of an habitué of the range, were both
-fitting representatives of the great Force which they
-served.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Wistful and sweet, the girl stood there and gazed
-awhile at man and horse and presently she slowly
-came forward and, with a kind, impulsive friendliness
-that immediately thawed the Sergeant’s habitual
-reserve, said:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’m sure you must be thinking me awfully rude—staring
-at you so long; but I was looking at your
-beautiful horse and wondering whether you were a
-policeman or a soldier or what.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, smiling whimsically down into the girl’s
-eager upturned face, the Sergeant made answer:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Young lady,” with a droll little vainglorious
-gesture which amused her intensely, “behold in me
-one of those important officials who hold the High
-Justice, the Middle and the Low in these parts ...
-a sergeant of the Mounted Police!” Then suddenly
-bitter remembrance set his pale, steady eyes
-agleam with their peculiar ruthless light and his
-strong white teeth gritted, as he added, “Otherwise,
-just a ‘prairie cop.’”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She stroked and patted Johnny who, scenting a
-new friend, nickered softly, tucked up his nigh fetlock
-in a beseeching manner, and nibbled at her for
-sugar.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Isn’t he just a beauty!” she murmured. “My,
-but I’d be a proud girl if I had a horse like him to
-ride. Do you ever?— What is it, Auntie?” she
-said, breaking off short as a stout, elderly lady with
-a petulant frown on her forbidding face, came bustling
-up.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Gracious, Mary!” snapped the aunt, very much
-out of breath, “I’ve been looking everywhere for
-you,” and angrily drawing the unwilling girl aside,
-Ellis heard her say, “You shouldn’t go talking to
-strange men in that way, child ... really, Mary,
-I’m surprised at you!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“But, Auntie,” came that young lady’s slightly indignant
-answer, “I was only asking him about his
-horse, and he speaks quite like a gentleman.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The elder woman’s response was partially inaudible
-to the Sergeant, but a fragment of it—“Only
-a policeman!” smote his ears unpleasantly with its
-pitiful snobbishness.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>As they moved away, though, he was repaid for
-that lady’s uncharitable remark, as the girl, taking
-advantage of “Auntie’s” ample back being turned,
-faced round and bowed to him with a kindly smile,
-an unspoken “Good-by” manifested in the gesture
-which he at once returned with a courtly grace, saluting
-gravely.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Mechanically, his eyes followed the two ladies until
-they became lost in the crowd, and then, with a
-muttered oath, he wheeled Johnny around and rode
-slowly out of the town.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What a fine-looking girl that was,” he reflected.
-“Some rich American’s daughter, no doubt, en route
-from Banff or elsewhere in the mountain summer
-resorts West, after having a good time.” </span><em class="italics">Why</em><span>
-shouldn’t she talk to him? And mixed with his
-brooding thoughts came the consciousness of his </span><em class="italics">own</em><span>
-joyless, danger-fraught life, with the bitter,
-hopeless, lonely feeling that the single man past thirty
-knows so well, whose occupation, and more especially—means—place
-him without the pale of matrimony.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With the exception of those holding responsible
-staff appointments, marriage was not particularly encouraged
-amongst the rank and file of the Force, for
-many reasons. Lack of suitable quarters was partially
-the cause of this policy; also (and not the
-least) the indisputable fact that in the majority of
-cases where men are engaged in hazardous pursuits
-the average single man is freer, and—as is only natural—willing
-to run far greater personal risk in
-the execution of his duty than a married man.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>True, many of the non-coms, and even “straight-duty
-bucks,” </span><em class="italics">were</em><span> Benedicts, for various reasons best
-known to themselves. But Ellis, forever mindful
-of the old fable of “The fox who lost his tail in a
-trap,” only laughed aside cynically all their feeble,
-joking admonitions to him to join their ranks and,
-taking “Punch’s” advice instead, “didn’t.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Why had that cursed old frump come butting in?
-“Only a policeman!” ... And with an angry
-Ellis unconsciously rammed the spurs into poor, unoffending
-Johnny, who immediately broke in his gait
-with a sidelong jump which, in its suddenness, nearly
-unseated him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The spasmodic jerk of the horse brought Benton
-to himself again, and with a “There, there, Johnny—you
-old fool—I didn’t mean to rake you,” he
-patted and eased that startled animal down to his
-customary pace.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“She made a lot of you, didn’t she, Johnny?
-And you know you liked it!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He rambled on, for latterly—in the utter loneliness
-of his long patrols—the Sergeant had contracted
-the strange habit of talking aloud to his
-horse, and Johnny’s sensitive ears would prick backwards
-and forwards as if he thoroughly comprehended
-what was being said to him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Traveling easily, and in no particular hurry, Benton
-made “Marshall’s” for dinner, and towards evening
-drew in sight of Cherry Creek district, with
-its few scattered ranches and mixed farms.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>When about half a mile from his detachment,
-some objects strewn on the trail ahead attracted his
-attention which, on drawing near, took the form of
-pieces of paper, some spilt chicken-feed and flour,
-bits of board, and the tail-board of a wagon; also,
-had he but noticed it, a lot of scattered nails.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With a grim chuckle he passed on. “Looks like
-somebody’s had a smash-up,” he muttered. Suddenly
-he pulled Johnny up sharply, for the latter had
-begun to limp perceptibly on the off-forefoot and, on
-examination, Ellis found a nail deeply embedded at
-the side of the frog. He tried to pry it out with his
-fingers and a knife, but it was in up to the head and
-his attempts were useless.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No help for it, Johnny,” he said. “You’ll have
-to stick it till we get home,” and with a disgusted
-malediction at the ill-luck, he wended his way slowly
-ahead on foot, Johnny following on three legs like
-a lame dog.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>On arrival at their destination the nail was eventually
-extracted with the aid of pincers, and after
-bathing and syringing the bleeding prod with hot
-water and peroxide of hydrogen, the horse moved
-easier; but Ellis was well aware that several days,
-perhaps a week, would elapse before it would be safe
-to use him. And with the knowledge of this fact
-oppressing him came also the realization that, should
-anything turn up in the meantime, he would be under
-the necessity of borrowing a horse from some one.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Stationed in a new district, he was naturally chary
-of placing himself under obligation to anybody; so,
-cogitating over his predicament, he watered, fed, and
-groomed Johnny and, after fixing up the wounded
-foot in a hot poultice for the night, he retired into his
-own domain to cook some supper.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The detachment, originally a ranch dwelling, was
-a square, solid-looking, log-built structure, with a
-commodious stable in the rear, and a corral and a
-fenced-in pasture. A huge, bleached buffalo skull,
-with its stubby black horns—a relic of bygone
-years—frowned down from over the main entrance,
-and a faded, weather-flapped Union Jack hung from
-a short flag-staff at one pinnacle of the roof. With
-whitewashed stones, the letters R.N.W.M.P. were
-formed in the earth banking on the front side of
-the dwelling. The interior bespoke its occupant’s
-tidiness and orderly habits.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>One entered directly into a moderate-sized room
-that was severe in its sparsely furnished simplicity.
-A long, bench-like table, covered with a tartan police
-rug, on which were some neatly piled blank legal
-forms, and books, a Bible, and writing materials.
-A plain oak arm-chair for the said table, and several
-smaller ones, with a couple of form-seats, were
-ranged around the walls, and immediately facing
-the magisterial bench a strongly-built cell with a
-barred door and aperture was partitioned off. A
-few enlarged framed photographs of old-time police
-and legal celebrities and a green baize-covered
-board decorated with an assortment of brightly burnished
-leg-irons and handcuffs completed the adornment
-of the chamber. Nevertheless, in spite of the
-room’s simple aspect, one instinctively guessed that
-here, as occasion occurred, the solemnity of the Law
-was upheld with no less a dignity than in the highest
-court of justice.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A door at one side of the cell opened into a larger
-apartment, evidently used as a combined living and
-bedroom which, with its strange collection of interesting
-objects, was typically significant of its owner’s
-tastes and personality. A comfortable, bachelor-like
-abode this, yet slightly regimental withal too;
-for the blankets at the head of the cot were strapped
-into the regulation neat roll with the sheets in the
-center, whilst above, on a small shelf, were the folded
-spare uniform and Stetson hat, on either side of
-which stood a pair of high, brown Strathcona riding-boots
-with jack spurs attached. On pegs underneath
-hung the “Sam Browne” belt and holster containing
-the heavy “Colt’s .45” Service revolver, together
-with a bridle, a head-rope, and a slicker.
-Two or three easy chairs were scattered around and
-some tanned calf-skin mats covered the floor. A
-table stood in the center littered with periodicals and
-other reading matter, and a plain slung bookshelf
-held a well-worn selection of classical and modern
-works of fiction. The walls were relieved with
-varrious photographs, clever pen-and-ink sketches, and
-unframed copies of famous pictures, among which
-were several examples of Charles Russell’s and
-Frederick Remington’s works of art. A tent-pegging
-lance, standing in a corner, supported a gaudy,
-feathered Indian headdress on its point, while behind
-the door hung a set of boxing gloves.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Five years of Benton’s wandering life having been
-spent on the veldt—two of them passed in the
-Chartered Company’s service—accounted for the
-curious South African trophies that were noticeable
-here and there. A stuffed </span><em class="italics">meerkat</em><span> crouched half
-raised, like a gigantic gopher, and that ugly bald-headed
-vulture, known in the </span><em class="italics">Taal</em><span> as an </span><em class="italics">aasvogel</em><span>,
-looked down with unpitying eyes. Two magnificent
-leopard skin karosses were flung over the armchairs,
-and a Zulu oxhide war shield was suspended
-in an angle of the walls, flanked crosswise with its
-companion weapons—a heavy knob-kerrie and a
-short, broad-bladed, stabbing assegai, whilst above
-hung those one-time sinister symbols of authority
-north of the Vaal—a rhinoceros-hide </span><em class="italics">sjambok</em><span>, a
-Mauser rifle, and a captured “</span><em class="italics">Vierkleur</em><span>” flag. Adjoining
-this room were the kitchen and a small compartment
-used as a storehouse.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His supper finished, and the daily diary, mileage
-report, and “monthly returns” made out, the Sergeant
-lit a pipe and lay back in one of the armchairs,
-lazily scanning the various criminal photographs
-in the last copy of </span><em class="italics">The Detective</em><span> he had
-brought with him from the Post, until drowsiness
-overcoming him, the paper fluttered to the floor and
-his head sank back against the leopard skin. The
-rays of the lamp shone full on the strong, moody
-face, with the pipe still held clenched between the
-teeth, and the athletic frame which, even in repose,
-contrived somehow to convey in its posture an impression
-of instinctive, feline readiness for sudden
-action.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Indeed, the man’s whole appearance seemed to
-fittingly bear out the many strange stories that were
-current of his strenuous and eventful past.</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-v">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER V</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>The elder was quelled,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>But the younger rebelled;</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>So he spread out his wings and fled over the sea.</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>Said the jackdaws and crows,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>“He’ll be hanged I suppose,</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>But what in the deuce does that matter to we?”</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">Henry Kingsley</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>The second son of an English cavalry officer
-holding a high rank, young Benton’s life
-up to the age of fifteen—with the exception
-of a few escapades at Shrewsbury—which were due
-more to an ingrained hardihood than viciousness,
-had passed very much the same as that of any other
-well-bred public school boy.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The death of his mother, however, and the later
-advent of a step-parent, wrought a disastrous change
-in the boy’s hitherto happy enough life. His stepmother’s
-intolerance with his high spirits led to
-many family quarrels and finally had the effect of
-provoking a naturally wayward temper to open rebellion
-and a definite course of action.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Her studied, unremitting hostility towards the boy
-succeeded in arousing in him a bitter, lasting hatred
-for her which, in its intensity and fixity of purpose,
-was positively awesome and well-nigh incredible in
-one of his years.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Scorning to follow his elder brother’s example in
-meekly submitting to the new regime he turned, in
-his misery and distress, to an old friend of his dead
-mother’s, one—Major Carlton—his ofttime confidant
-and mediator in many boyish troubles.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Borrowing fifty pounds from the latter, and taking
-little else save his mother’s photograph and a
-few clothes, with a farewell to none except his debtor,
-he turned his back on that beautiful old Devonshire
-home forever.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A youthful imagination inspired, perhaps, by prolific
-and intelligent reading, inexplicably directed his
-course to the United States; so, booking his passage
-at Liverpool, he found himself later, depleted in
-money—but not in pluck or resolution—a waif
-in that vast assemblage of mixed peoples. One letter—the
-last that he was ever to write home—he
-despatched to his father.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Sir John Benton’s fierce, lined face softened for
-an instant as he perused his son’s missive, but it grew
-darker and drearier than ever before he had read it
-through. The letter said no word of return, and he
-guessed rightly it was meant for an absolutely final
-farewell.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A strict disciplinarian in his own household, its
-contents he never divulged to the rest of the family;
-and if he felt the loss of the manly, headstrong boy,
-he never showed it hereafter by word or deed. The
-stern old soldier recognized in those lines—penned
-with a certain boyish courtesy—only too well the
-inflexible characteristics that matched, to the full, his
-own.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Various vicissitudes eventually landed young Benton
-in a great cattle-raising district of Montana,
-where he obtained a job as a chore boy on a big
-ranch, known as the “Circle H.” A fearless
-upbringing amongst horses stood him now in good
-stead, and this, combined with a willing capacity for
-work, ultimately won for him the approval of “Big
-Jim Parsons,” the silent, laconic ranch foreman, who
-befriended the lonely, and now taciturn, youngster.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It is not to be supposed that he gained this patronage
-any too easily. Although babbling little concerning
-his history, his English speech and apparent
-breeding were sufficient at the start to make him
-the butt of many doubtful pleasantries from the
-devil-may-care cow-punchers whose bunkhouse victim
-he was. No sulker, he could assimilate the most
-of it in good part; but there were limitations to such
-“joshing,” as many of his tormentors found out
-when the savage, uncontrollable Benton temper
-blazed forth with such appalling venom of fist and
-tongue that, immature youth though he was, caused
-the bleeding and cursing authors of the disturbance
-to retreat aghast at the devil they had raised. The
-old Mosaic law—“An eye for an eye”—with its
-grim suggestion of unforgiving finality, always
-found in Ellis an ardent and exacting adherent.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>At such scenes Big Jim would generally appear on
-the field of hostilities, a threatening, nasal sneer
-twisting his morose face.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Quit monkey’n with that kid, now,” he would
-snarl; and with rising wrath: “I tell yu’, fer guts,
-that same dude maverick has yu’ all skinned! What
-was it he called yu’, Windy?... Will yore mother
-stand fer that?... What’s happened to yore face,
-Ike?... Fell down an’ trod on it?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The foreman’s rough championing, and his own
-ability to take care of himself, in course of time
-discouraged this systematic baiting, and ere long
-he received the degree of comradeship. Possessing
-an inborn love for music, which from childhood up
-his mother had always sedulously encouraged, Ellis
-was a pianist of no mean ability. This, coupled with
-a sweet, boyish voice—which in later years was to
-develop into a magnificent baritone—caused him to
-be in constant request as a performer on the battered
-old piano which the ranch-owner’s dwelling boasted.
-Nothing loath, he played and sang to them the simple
-old melodies and songs that they knew; and soon
-from being the ranch butt he became one of its especial
-favorites.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With characteristic honor, although the loan had
-been but a mere trifle to the wealthy giver, his first
-laudable ambition had been to pay back to Major
-Carlton the sum he had borrowed from that kind-hearted
-bachelor on emigrating; and this, with much
-self-denial, he found himself able to do during the
-next two years, thereafter keeping up a desultory
-correspondence with his old friend which lasted until
-the latter’s death.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Time went on, and Ellis, after drifting here and
-there through Montana and Wyoming punching for
-various cattle outfits, finally returned to the “Circle
-H,” where at the early age of twenty-five he became
-its competent young foreman—vice “Big Jim Parsons,”
-deceased.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>By this time, his character, like his frame, was set;
-to the vehement ambition and ardor of youth had
-succeeded the cool, matured resolution of manhood—powerful
-to will, prompt to execute, and patient
-to endure; he was proof against idle hopes, no less
-than against groundless fears, and the common chagrins
-of life took no more hold of his soul than toil
-or privation of his body. Yet under all this case-hardness,
-like a virgin pearl lying dormant within
-its flinty habitation, there still remained deep in him
-a certain softness of heart that he inherited from
-the gentle lady whose picture and loving memory
-he had cherished throughout his wanderings.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It is not to be supposed that during all this time
-the rough associations and surroundings compatible
-with the calling he followed had not left their mark
-upon him. But hot-blooded, violent and impulsive
-though he was by nature, a certain quaint cynicism
-and command of will and feature enabled him to
-suppress outwardly these visible signs of his temperament.
-His life was probably not much more immune
-from vice than the majority of his fellows who
-bore themselves more jovially and noisily; but oh
-the sin of violated love, or cruel desertion—too
-often associated with the sowing of youth’s wild
-oats—he could not accuse himself. The dark eyes
-of more than one ranch beauty had looked approvingly—perhaps
-lovingly—on the somber, handsome
-face and slimly-powerful frame of the reckless
-young bronco-buster, wondering, half-pityingly, what
-should make so youthful a countenance so stern. And
-more than once the inviting loneliness of many whom
-ties bound had been made only too apparent for his
-benefit. But the remnants of a nearly forgotten
-family pride, rather than shyness or coldness, kept
-Ellis’s feet clear of the snares. He was not specially
-cold, or continent, or tender of conscience, but
-he chose to take his pleasure in places where he
-troubled no man’s peace, and where there could be no
-ignominious aftermath to torture him with its useless,
-heart-aching remorse.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Every wayfarer through this world must needs encounter
-certain points in his journey where the main
-trail divides. For awhile the two tracks may run
-so near to each other that they may seem still almost
-one, but they will diverge more and more till, ere
-they end, their issues lie as widely apart as those of
-good and evil, light and darkness, life and death.
-So it was now with Ellis Benton, for a chance episode
-occurred in that young man’s life which was fated to
-bring about a material change in his fortunes and
-surroundings.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A born fighter, and possessing unusual cleverness
-with his hands, he was one night unavoidably forced
-into an encounter with a professional prize-fighter
-on a public street, in Butte. A young girl, whom the
-latter was persecuting with his unwelcome attentions,
-appealed to the young cow-puncher for protection,
-and not in vain. Despite the terrible punishment he
-received, the deadly fury and ability with which he
-finally put his formidable antagonist away made a
-visible impression on a well known fight promoter
-who happened to witness the affray. That worthy,
-an ex-pugilist himself of considerable renown, with
-his glib tongue, apparent sincerity, and cleverly
-framed appeals to the younger man’s vanity, succeeded
-at last in inducing him to enter the ring in
-earnest. Ellis, in that unsettled period that comes
-in most strong men’s lives, was perhaps, too, subconsciously
-getting a little weary of the range life
-that up to now had entirely satisfied his full-blooded
-energies, but there is little doubt that had he remained
-with the soberer calling that he had followed
-so long, it would have been more advantageous to
-both his profit and honor. But the reckless hardihood,
-ingrained in his nature, stifled the suggestions
-of prudence and ambition; when he cut himself adrift
-from family and friends he severed himself, in intent,
-no less decisively from the class in which he
-was born and bred than if, as an heir to a throne, he
-had relinquished his birthright, and become but a
-humble subject. With a characteristic indifference
-to possible consequences, he was not the least
-ashamed, as yet, of the doubtful profession that
-he had adopted. His subsequent spectacular fighting
-speedily demonstrated his ability to become
-a future middleweight champion, and for a while
-the bouts in which he participated drew eager
-crowds, curious to see the coming young pugilist who
-gave them such a good run for their money, invariably
-drawing with, or putting away his opponent
-each time, with a sensational class of fighting that
-was highly gratifying to their taste. Becoming
-gradually disgusted with the crooked practises and
-propositions which, somehow, seemed to be inseparable
-from the game, and more or less incumbent
-on those who were dependent on the ring for a living,
-he made up his mind to forsake the profession
-which demanded of him the sacrifice of his common
-honesty. His commendable decision, however, certainly
-did not carry with it the solace of much pecuniary
-acquisition; for although fighting with great
-frequency, and winning, or splitting many big purses
-during his brilliant, if brief, career, the fast life and
-heavy expenses compatible with such a profession
-soon dissipated them along with a considerable portion
-of his previously accumulated savings, limiting
-the sum total of his worldly wealth to less than a
-thousand dollars.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Becoming, by now, thoroughly restless and inclined
-to wander afresh, his fancy next took him to
-South Africa, where he obtained a position in the
-Chartered Company’s service, at which occupation
-he remained until the outbreak of the South African
-War two years later. Enlisting then as a private
-in a well known, and afterwards famous, Irregular
-Horse, in the later engagements at Elandslaagte,
-Waggon Hill, and Wepener, he showed to the full
-the soldierly instincts only natural in one come of
-his fighting race and breeding, at the latter action,
-particularly, when in the storming of a strong Boer
-position, he exhibited a characteristic courage of
-such an utterly reckless, desperate nature, that subsequently
-gained for him the Distinguished Conduct
-Medal and a Sergeant-Major’s promotion.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>During the terrible Mauser fire, however, which
-well nigh decimated his squadron, he received a bullet
-through the body, the same passing the base of
-the right lung, luckily without permanently injuring
-that vital organ. On recovery, he served throughout
-the succeeding guerilla warfare until peace was
-proclaimed at Veereneging, on May 31, 1902.
-Wearying, then, of South Africa and its war-ravaged
-desolation, he returned to the country and scenes
-of his former life, resuming his avocation, riding for
-a newly-formed cattle company, whose headquarters
-were near the Canadian border.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Here, during the next few months, he became
-acquainted with various members of the scattered
-posts of the Royal North West Mounted Police.
-Craving companionship, and with the recollections
-of his late military experiences still fresh within him,
-he joined that Force, and after passing through the
-inevitable curriculum of their headquarters at Regina,
-he was eventually transferred to L Division.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Several notable stock-stealing cases, in which his
-fearless ability and previous range experience enabled
-him to obtain long term convictions on the
-offenders, soon brought him under the favorable notice
-of his superiors, who recognized his worth in
-this particular line, and in a little less than four
-years he was promoted to the rank in which we
-find him in the beginning of this story.</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-vi">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER VI</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“Whoo-oh!—Steady!... Let’s git me cigarette lit!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Oh, a cow-puncher’s curse on that frizzling sun!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>There!... Whoop!... Go to her, goldarn it!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Yu’ dirty, mean, locoed old son of a gun!”</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">Bronco-Buster’s Chorus</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Morning came, and with it a visit from
-one Gallagher, a middle-aged bachelor,
-his nearest neighbor, whose ranch lay
-about a mile distant. The Sergeant, seated outside
-the door, in the sun, smoking an after-breakfast pipe,
-greeted the newcomer civilly as he lowered himself
-stiffly out of the saddle, and waited for the other to
-divulge his business.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Nature had not been kind to Mr. Gallagher in
-regard to his physiognomy, and Ellis, whenever he
-contemplated that homely visage, from certain canine
-peculiarities therein, always mentally labeled
-him “Old Dog-face.” It </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> an ugly, repellant
-countenance in a way, but the eyes were those of an
-honest man, and the thick lips expressed a species of
-genial humor.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Meeting each other casually at the usual weekly
-mail gatherings, Benton was always conscious of a
-kind of surly friendliness on Gallagher’s part, that
-showed up in marked contrast to the silent, mistrustful
-antipathy, with which many of those present generally
-regarded him; which attitude, be it remarked,
-worried the Sergeant but little. The rancher
-broached the subject of his visit with little preamble.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Old man Tucker, from Fish Creek, was over
-wantin’ to see yu’ yesterday, Sargint. Didn’t find
-yu’ in, so he come around to my place before he went
-back.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh,” said Ellis absently, and with a slight trace
-of weary irritation in his tones; “what’s bitin’ that
-old fool now—was he full?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was curiously noticeable that, when back amidst
-the habitues and surroundings of his former life and
-calling, how naturally he reverted to the terse, ungrammatical
-speech of the range.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Gallagher, with a grin, lit his pipe, and leaning
-back in the chair that the Sergeant had dragged out
-for him, blew out a cloud of smoke reflectively.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, he weren’t what you’d call exactly sober,”
-he drawled. “It was the same old business....
-Says there’s some of them a layin’ to run off that
-bunch o’ hawsses o’ his. Reckons he’s got it straight
-this time.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“He always has,” responded the policeman, spitting
-with contemptuous remembrance. “I’m just
-about fed up with his picayune happenings. He
-makes me tired. Time and again he’s got me a
-chasin’ over to his place, and there’s never nothin’
-doin’.... Just some gag they’ve bin a throwin’
-into him.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The other was silent for a space. “Mebbe,” he
-acquiesced musingly. “But I don’t know, Sargint ... he
-seemed more worked up this time’n I ever
-see him.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis pondered over this dilemma. A complaint
-was a complaint, and anyhow, no one could ever accuse
-him of neglecting his duty.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“See here; look,” he said presently. “I’d go
-on over and see what’s worryin’ that old </span><em class="italics">soor</em><span>, but
-fact is, I’m stuck for a hawss. That black o’ mine
-went lame on me comin’ home last night. Picked
-up a nail. He won’t be fit to ride for three or four
-days. Got anythin’ in yore bunch yu’ could fix me
-up with till he gets sound again, Gallagher?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The rancher considered a moment or two with a
-grave, inscrutable face. “Let’s see,” he said
-thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth twitching ever
-so little. “I guess,” he broke out finally. “Will
-yu’ come on over, Sargint?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>An hour later Benton, perched on the top rail of
-Gallagher’s horse corral, lazily watched that worthy
-driving in his band of horses from their range in
-a neighboring coulee and, slipping down on their
-near approach, he opened the gate and then effaced
-himself out of their sight carefully, to prevent a
-possible scare.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Well strung out, with heads up and manes and
-tails flying, they followed their leader, a powerfully-built,
-buckskin gelding. It was an old, well-known
-trail to them and, presently, with customary obedience,
-they surged through the opening into the big
-main corral, where they stood around, a playfully
-biting, kicking mass of horseflesh, while their owner,
-bringing up the rear, dismounted from his quiet old
-cow-pony and hung up the gate behind them. Ellis,
-emerging from his hiding-place, climbed up beside
-him on the fence, and together the two men gazed
-silently awhile at the animated scene below them.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>There were perhaps about thirty head all told, of
-different grades, ages, and colors, from the heavy
-Percheron-bred draught-horse to the slender, cat-like
-cayuse.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton, with the eye of a connoisseur of horseflesh,
-quickly ran them over. “Pretty mixed
-bunch,” he mumbled, ungraciously.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, yu’ ain’t buyin’ ’em, Sargint,” answered
-Gallagher, somewhat nettled at the other’s remark,
-and a silence ensued which was finally broken by
-Ellis “shooing” at a big Clyde-built mare, heavy
-in foal, that was hiding another horse from his view.
-The startled animal slowly waddled away, disclosing
-the aforementioned buckskin, which bad somehow
-escaped the Sergeant’s notice.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He quickly appraised its points. “Eyah,” he
-muttered; “now </span><em class="italics">that’s</em><span> some horse!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And indeed his approval was justified for it was
-about as likely a looking specimen of the saddle-remount
-as one could wish to see, with the short,
-strong back, long, springy fetlocks, and powerful
-quarters that denoted speed and endurance no less
-than an easy gait.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“That sorrel ain’t a bad looker, either,” he pursued.
-“Are they saddle-broke, them two?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yep,” said Gallagher shortly. “Yu’ kin take
-yore pick, Sargint, of anythin’ that’s in here.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton, shading his eyes from the sun, scrutinized
-the two horses a little longer and then, leisurely dropping
-to the ground, slid into the saddle of Gallagher’s
-waiting horse.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Guess I’ll have to borrow yore saddle and
-bridle a space, old-timer, if yu’ don’t mind,” he
-remarked. “Lord, but yu’ must be split to the chin.
-I’ll have to take these stirrups up a hole or two.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Quickly unlacing the rawhide thongs, he adjusted
-them to his liking and, tying the horse’s halter-shank
-to the corral, unshipped the heavy stock-saddle and
-bridle, depositing them on the ground beside the
-fence.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The rancher’s high-heeled Kansas boots, with their
-huge-rowelled Mexican spurs, next attracted his attention
-and he stood for a moment silently eyeing
-them and his own broad-welted, flat-heeled footwear.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What size boots d’yu’ wear, Gallagher?” he inquired,
-with a mild grin. “Nines, eh? ... same
-as me. D’yu’ mind changin’? I’m sure on the borrowin’
-stunt all right this trip, but them stirrups of
-yores ain’t none too wide an’ I don’t much fancy
-gettin’ ‘hung up.’”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The other acquiesced willingly enough and the
-exchange was soon effected. Unstrapping the lariat
-from off the saddle, Benton climbed up and dropped
-inside the corral, the horses beginning immediately to
-circle around uneasily at his approach, raising clouds
-of dust.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Which ’un yu’ goin’ to take, Sargint?” inquired
-their owner.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Guess I’ll try out that buckskin first!” Ellis answered
-laconically. “I wanta hold him and that
-sorrel. We’ll let the others drift.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Standing in the center of the corral, with an ease
-that bespoke long practise, he slowly shook out a
-workable loop and began to adroitly maneuver the
-buckskin to the rear of the bunch. But the latter,
-scenting danger, and being apparently an old hand
-at the game, was very elusive, diving head-down into
-the ruck always at the psychological moment. Patiently
-watching his chance as, for about the twentieth
-time the buckskin’s head reappeared amidst the
-flying manes, the Sergeant carelessly, with a curious
-overhand flip, swung and threw, the noose dropping
-fairly over the ears and nose.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Tailing onto the rope, with heels digging into the
-soft ground, he slid for a few yards, then suddenly
-detaching the animal from the retreating bunch with
-a powerful hip-heave he brought it up facing him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Gallagher watched the performance with a lazy
-curiosity. “Knows his business with a rope all
-right,” was his silent comment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Once caught, as Benton coiled in the slack, hand
-over hand, the buckskin walked meekly up to his
-captor like one who knows the game is up, and allowed
-himself to be patted. Leaving Gallagher to
-hold the animal, Ellis proceeded to cut the sorrel
-into a small inner corral. This done, he opened
-the gate once more, and with a wild whirl and surge
-that scattered clouds of dust the late occupants
-eagerly streamed out on the run back to their range
-again.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Carrying the blanket, saddle, and bridle, the Sergeant
-entered the corral and cautiously approaching
-the held horse, deftly slipped the bit between
-its teeth and buckled the throat-lash firmly, then,
-drawing off the lariat, picked up the blanket and
-flopped it over the withers with a smack. The saddle
-next followed suit; the double cinches, although
-slapping the animal’s belly with the same deliberate
-roughness, failed to produce any startling
-effect.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Seems gentle,” Benton muttered aloud.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yep,” assented Gallagher, in a toneless voice.
-“Better take th’ sorrel, Sargint.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis glanced up sharply, but the rancher’s face
-was set like an ugly, expressionless mask, and he
-gleaned nothing there.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why?” he inquired.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Pitches some,” said the other drily and, with
-calculating inference, “the sorrel, he’s gentle. </span><em class="italics">I</em><span>
-kin ride </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis hesitated a moment. He was hardly to be
-classed in the same category as a greenhorn, whom
-ignorance, taunt, or bravado will often provoke into
-climbing onto a bad horse, with equally bad results,
-but his reputation as a rider was at stake, for he
-knew Gallagher’s tongue was prone to wag at times.
-The latter’s last words—“The sorrel, </span><em class="italics">he’s</em><span> gentle!”—rankled
-a little, and his decision was made with
-an unconscious snort of contempt, as he dragged at
-the latigo straps and drew the cinches taut.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Pitches, does he?” he mumbled to himself. All
-right, then! He would show Mr. “Dog-face”
-Gallagher something. And bending down he buckled
-on the big, straight-shanked, Mexican spurs.
-“Gimme yore quirt, Gallagher!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Crossing the split reins carefully in the palm of
-his left hand and catching the cheek-strap of the
-bridle, he reached out his right and guided his foot
-cautiously into the stirrup, eyeing the buckskin
-closely the while. The animal stood ominously
-quiet. Grasping the horn he swung lightly and
-warily into the saddle and settled his feet home.
-Still no movement from the motionless horse.
-Vaguely uneasy, he clucked and gave it a light touch
-with the spurs. The effect was magical. The ears
-suddenly flattened. A ripple ran along the black-striped
-back and as, with a hoarse, grunting scream
-the buckskin dropped its head and bucked into the
-air, in a flash Benton realized that he was on one
-of the worst horses it had ever been his lot to
-tackle.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh—o-ooh—he-e—s-ss—a-ah!” in bitter
-bodily anguish, he groaned, as again and again the
-horse rocketed and propped, stiff and hard with
-terrible impact, and with a jarring side-shake that
-seemed to shiver his very soul. The blood burst
-from his nose and mouth under the constant violent
-concussions and he felt deathly sick. Still the snapping,
-whalebone-like back rose and descended, “sun-fishing”
-in midair with a curious upward flirt of the
-rump that was well-nigh irresistible, causing the Sergeant’s
-hand to swing up towards the horn more than
-once, and but for the fact of Gallagher watching,
-he would have “pulled leather” without shame.
-“Not grain fed.... Can’t keep this up much
-longer!” he gasped to himself. And shifting
-slightly in the saddle he threw all his dead weight on
-to the nigh fore-leg. It was an old trick that Ellis
-had often used in his younger and more elastic days,
-and by degrees he became conscious between the
-twisting, jerking leaps of the bucking fury under
-him, that the animal was weakening.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Its resistance provoked a wild, unreasoning wave
-of anger to surge through him, driving the remnants
-of his sick faintness before it, and raising his hand
-he quirted and raked the still pitching buckskin with
-a ferocity that finally drove it to a sweating standstill.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Go to it, d—n yu’!” he yelled, but the horse
-had had enough and only broke into an easy trot
-around the corral. Swinging out of the saddle, he
-stood for a moment swaying, dazed from the terrific
-ordeal he had undergone.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>To him came Gallagher. “Holy doodle!” exclaimed
-that worthy, with a sort of miserable heartiness,
-“he sure went after yu’ some!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The policeman did not answer, but breathing in
-deep, heavy gasps, and streaming with perspiration,
-slowly raised his head. At the unmistakable silent
-animosity depicted on that drawn, bitter face, the
-rancher changed countenance and retreated slightly
-with a deprecating gesture.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now don’t yu’ go for to blame me, Sargint!”
-he began. “—’Member I warned yu’!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis looked at him loweringly, with evil irresolution.
-The man was right, he reflected, but nothing
-makes us so unforgiving as the consciousness of being
-in the wrong.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Warned me?” he echoed, with a mirthless
-laugh, and at the same time blowing a stream of
-blood from his nose. “Oh, aye, yu’ </span><em class="italics">warned</em><span> me all
-right—like Paddy warned his landlord!...”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Regaining his breath somewhat, he resumed with
-savage ill-humor. “Yu’ve an ugly mug, Gallagher....
-If I thought for a minute yu’d handed me this
-here stick of dynamite for a josh, I’d push what’s
-meant to be yore face right in, an’ don’t yu’ forget
-it!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The other’s dog-like visage contracted with a grin
-and he emitted a short, barking laugh.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Easy! easy there, Sargint!... Now don’t yu’
-start for to get mad ’bout it,” he chuckled. “Never
-yu’ mind my mug. I ain’t a beauty, I know....
-But handsome is that handsome does.... ’Member,
-I’m lendin’ yu’ a horse.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>At the remembrance of the man’s generosity, and
-his good-natured response, Benton’s short-lived fit
-of bad temper quickly evaporated, and he felt guilty
-and ashamed at his own illogical outburst.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Gallagher,” he said hoarsely, spitting out a
-mouthful of blood and dust, “I guess I’m in wrong....
-I take it all back.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With an earnestness that there was no mistaking,
-the rancher reached out his hand.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Sargint,” he said solemnly, “shake. Yu’re a
-rider.” And in the warmth of that grip Ellis became
-vaguely conscious that his nerve had won for
-him a friend.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Good fellowship established once more, Gallagher’s
-taciturnity vanished and he became voluble and
-communicative.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now, see here, look; I’ll tell yu’, Sargint,” he
-rambled on. “I raised that hawss, an’ I know him
-like a book. There’s only two men ever stayed with
-him. They’re no-goods, both of ’em, but they kin
-</span><em class="italics">ride</em><span>. Yu’ know ’em, too—Short an’ Dirty’s
-one, an’ that there Jules Le Frambois yu’ve just took
-down for rustlin’ Billy Jacques’ stock, t’other. Jules—he
-got piled higher’n a kite, first crack outer th’
-box, but he stayed with him th’ second trip. Wanst
-he finds a feller kin ride him he quits pitchin’ right
-away </span><em class="italics">with</em><span> that feller—for good. Yu’ git on him
-now an’ see ’f I ain’t right.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis did so and, with a rough slap of the quirt
-and a thrust of the spurs, thumbing the horse’s withers
-and fanning its ears with his hat; but all his
-efforts to make the buckskin hump again were fruitless,
-and the Sergeant, as he felt the surge of the
-easy-gaited, powerful animal under him, knew that
-here was a remount that could be depended on in any
-emergency.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What’d I tell yu’?” said Gallagher, as Benton
-dismounted and off-saddled. “Nary a jump—an’
-Short an’ Dirty, he rode him for three months—an’
-he says he’s good on th’ rope an’ll stand wherever
-his lines is dropped. Now yu’ take him and ride
-him as long as yu’ want, Sargint.... I guess there
-ain’t nobody else around here as is anxious,” he
-added, grinning. “What’s his name? Why, I calls
-him ‘Shakem.’ He’s sure shook a few of ’em, too.
-I didn’t aim to get yu’ hurt none, but some of th’
-boys had it that yu’ used to bust for th’ ‘Turkey-Track,’
-an’, well, I kinder own I was a bit minded
-to see if yu’ shaped like it,” he ended whimsically.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The ghost of a smile for a moment illuminated
-Benton’s blood-stained, tired face as, lighting a cigarette,
-he retrieved his own boots and prepared to
-lead his borrowed mount away.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“An’ are yu’ satisfied?” he queried wearily.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aye,” answered the rancher, with fervent conviction.
-“I sure am that. Yes, I’ll ride on over
-an’ fix up that black o’ yores if yu’re away th’ night.
-So long, Sargint.”</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-vii">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER VII</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“Oh, sheriff an’ ranger both wished me luck,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Yu’ bet! when I jumped th’ Line last Fall—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Yep!... Kind that a hog gets when he’s stuck,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>For I’d cert’nly made them cattle-men bawl.</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Them fellers has cause to love me as much</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>As they do a wolf, or a sneakin’ Piute;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>But wouldn’t this jar yu’—’gettin’ in Dutch’</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>With th’ Mounted Police, thru’ a mangy coyote?”</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">The Rustler’s Lament</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>After giving the buckskin a light feed of
-grain and attending to Johnny’s hoof carefully,
-Ellis despatched an early lunch, saddled
-up Shakem, and struck out for Tucker’s ranch,
-which was about eight miles distant. It was a
-glorious day and, feeling fully recovered from the
-effects of his morning’s shake-up, he rode slowly on
-through the golden haze with that ease and contentment
-that comes to a man who feels that he has
-earned it, and has sound health and a good horse
-under him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Three miles or so beyond Gallagher’s the trail
-veered slightly west, then south, skirting the dense
-brush and timbered slopes of the foot-hills. Emerging
-from a patch of poplar that fringed the base of
-a small butte around which his trail led, a moving
-object suddenly appeared above him, sharply defined
-against the sky-line. Glancing up quickly he
-instantly recognized the tawny-gray, dog-like form
-of a coyote. Benton, in common with most range
-men, loathed the slinking, carrion-fed brutes and
-always shot them down remorselessly whenever opportunity
-offered. Averting his gaze and still keeping
-steadily on his way to deceive the wary animal,
-he cautiously lifted the flap of his holster with the
-intention of making a quick whirl and snap-shot.
-With shortened lines, he was just about to execute
-this maneuver when something strange and unfamiliar
-in the actions of his intended victim suddenly
-caused him to halt, paralyzed with open-mouthed
-curiosity and astonishment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Apparently, for the moment, completely heedless
-of the close proximity of its mortal enemy, Man, it
-was pawing violently at its snout, and to the Sergeant’s
-ears came the unmistakable sounds of choking
-and vomiting. Gripping the Colt’s .45, Ellis’s
-hand flashed up, but the shell was never discharged.
-For just then came the sharp crack of a rifle shot
-from somewhere on the other side of the butte, and
-the coyote, with a bullet through its head, tumbled
-and slid, jerking in its death-struggle almost to the
-horse’s feet.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With a startled exclamation at the unexpected
-occurrence and, wrenching his steed around as it
-shyed instinctively away, Benton swung out of the
-saddle and turned wonderingly to examine that still
-twitching body. A peculiar </span><em class="italics">something</em><span>—evidently
-the cause of its previous choking motions—was protruding
-from its mouth and, prying open the
-clenched, blood-dripping paws, Ellis tugged it out
-from away back in the throat, down which it had
-apparently resisted being swallowed. Wiping the
-slimy object on the grass, he spread it open. His
-eyes dilated strangely with instant recognition, and
-a savage oath burst from him. It was the brand
-cut out of the hide of a freshly killed steer.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With lightning-like intuition and a quick, apprehensive,
-upward glance, the Sergeant crumpled up
-the clammy, half-chewed flap of skin, jammed it up
-under his stable-jacket and, jumping for the buckskin,
-wheeled and dashed into the shelter of the bush.
-Breathing rapidly with excitement, he dismounted
-and, lying on his stomach, dragged himself cautiously
-forward until he could discern the dead
-coyote.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His rapid movements had been only just in time.
-For, as he peered from his hiding place, another
-object silhouetted itself against the sky-line. A man,
-this time, wearing white-goatskin chaps, and in the
-short, powerful body, red hair, and prognathous jaw,
-the policeman discerned the all-familiar figure and
-lineaments of one—William Butlin—generally
-known in the district by the soubriquet of “Short
-and Dirty,” or “Shorty.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was coatless, and his bare, brawny arms were
-blood-stained up to the elbows as, clutching a rifle
-in one hand and a knife in the other, he slowly descended
-the incline and inspected the result of his
-marksmanship. Being summer, it was a poor skin
-and mangy so, with a muttered oath and a contemptuous
-kick, he turned and retraced his steps up
-the butte, with bent head scrutinizing the ground
-carefully around for something as he did so.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With a grim chuckle, the Sergeant watched him
-disappear from view and, after waiting a moment
-or two, quietly raised himself and slid out of his
-place of concealment. Climbing noiselessly until he
-reached the brow of the incline, he dropped prone
-and, removing his hat, looked warily down. He
-found himself looking down a narrow draw, dotted
-here and there with patches of alder, willow-scrub,
-and cottonwood clumps—a huge specimen of the
-latter rising from amongst its fellows at the lower
-end of the draw. There, at the bottom, not fifty
-yards distant, Benton beheld Mr. Short and Dirty
-busily engaged in stripping the hide from the bloody
-carcass of a newly butchered steer.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He had chosen an ideal spot for his nefarious
-work, the slopes on either side of the draw rendering
-him completely immune from ordinary observation,
-and the hot rays of the overhead sun beat down
-on the sprawled, glistening, pink and yellow monstrosity
-that his knife was rapidly laying bare. His
-rifle lay on the ground, well out of his reach, near
-his horse, a chunky, well-put-up white animal and,
-with back turned to the fierce scrutiny of the representative
-of the Law that followed his every movement,
-he bent over his work with nervous haste,
-skinning with long sweeps of his knife and glancing
-furtively around him from time to time.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With a stealthy movement Ellis arose, stood upright,
-and walked noiselessly down to the impromptu
-barbecue.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, Shorty!” he called.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>At the policeman’s voice the man started violently
-and, wheeling like a flash, knife in hand, faced him
-with open-mouthed amazement, fear, guilt, cunning,
-and desperation flitting in turn over his rugged, evil
-face. With carelessly-held revolver the Sergeant
-watched him intently with glittering eyes, his attitude
-suggestive of a snake about to strike.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Pitch up!” he rapped out harshly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The other made no move but a terrible spasm
-of murderous indecision momentarily convulsed
-his face, which angered the policeman beyond
-expression.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Pronto!</em><span>” he roared explosively, with a shocking
-blasphemy and a forward jump of his gun that
-sent Shorty’s arms aloft with a galvanic jerk, the
-knife dropping to the ground.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Silently Benton surveyed him awhile, a deadly,
-menacing light like green fire flaming in his deep-set
-eyes, and the muscles under the livid scar on his
-cheek twitching.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yu’ look at me like that agin,” he drawled slowly
-and distinctly, “an’ I’ll blow a hole thru’ yore guts.
-Three paces forward, march!—halt!—’bout
-turn!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The movements were executed with a precise obedience
-that drew forth a sneer from the observant
-sergeant.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Huh! an old bird, eh?” he gibed. “Always
-thought yu’ were, from th’ cut of yore mug. I guess
-th’ ‘Pen’ shore went into mourning th’ day yu’
-worked yore ticket. There’s a lump on yore hip
-I don’t like,” he continued sharply. “Here! Let’s
-go thru’ yu’!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He deftly extracted a revolver, glanced at it
-quickly, and then transferred it to his own pocket.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Packin’ a Colt’s automatic around, eh?” he
-snarled. “That’s another charge I’ll soak into yu’—carryin’
-concealed weapons.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His swiftly working brain had, meantime, evolved
-a definite scheme of action that he felt the circumstances
-required. Never for a moment underrating
-the notoriously desperate character of his captive,
-he was taking no chances, and purposely kept that
-individual under the tense influence of his powerful
-will, giving him no opportunity to collect his crafty
-wits.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Quick, now, my lad!” he broke out in a fierce
-undertone, seizing the other’s shirt collar and pushing
-the muzzle of the revolver into his back; “step
-out to that big cottonwood down there—keep yore
-wings up. Make one break an’ this’ll go off!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Bursting with helpless, impotent rage, the cowed
-and bewildered man was roughly thrust forward to
-the indicated spot. Arriving there, Ellis jerked out
-his handcuffs, opening these carefully so that he
-would be able to manipulate them with one hand.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Shove out yore mitts on each side of this stick!”
-came his sharp command.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Shorty blinked at him with feigned stupidity out
-of veiled, bloodshot eyes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Quick!” snapped the Sergeant, with a fresh
-burst of fury at the other’s irresolution. “Quick,
-yu’ sorrel-topped skunk, or I’ll kill yu’!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Sullenly the gory arms were clasped around the
-tree and the handcuffs clicked home. His man secure,
-the policeman turned swiftly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Adios</em><span>, Shorty,” he said, with grim levity. “I’m
-just takin’ a little </span><em class="italics">paseur</em><span> now. I’ll be back before
-the coyotes get yu’.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The rustler gazed after his retreating form with
-evil wonder. So far he had uttered no sound, but
-now his lips framed themselves for speech. Something
-causing him to change his mind, however, he
-only spat viciously and resolutely held his peace.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>An hour passed. A slow one, too, for the shackled
-man. Shifting wearily from one foot to the
-other, he eventually sat down, shoving out a leg on
-either side of the cottonwood, his arms, of necessity,
-hugging the butt. The sound of voices presently
-smote his ear, not unpleasantly either, for by this
-time he was beyond caring for </span><em class="italics">what</em><span> happened to
-him so long as he was released from his cramped,
-ludicrous position. Soon two riders hove into view
-at the entrance to the draw, and in them he recognized
-his captor, and—Gallagher.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The sight of the latter vaguely disturbed his
-warped conscience. Gallagher had always been decent
-to him, he reflected. Had once even lent him
-money. How could the policeman know it was
-Gallagher’s steer? He </span><em class="italics">couldn’t</em><span>, he argued to himself.
-They were just trying to put some bluff over
-him. And the conviction that he still held a trump
-card hardened his heart.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Pulling up at the dead steer, they dismounted
-and, leaving Gallagher examining the carcass, Ellis
-walked on down the draw and released his prisoner,
-snapping the handcuff back on the wrist again.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Get yu’ over to th’ beef an’ set down,” he ground
-out curtly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The rancher looked up at their approach.
-“Howdy, Shorty,” he said quietly, with a grim nod,
-which salute the other returned sullenly, with a
-brazen stare, sitting down resignedly, with his
-manacled hands clasping his knees. Benton, rolling
-a cigarette, looked interrogatively at Gallagher.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well,” he queried.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Shore </span><em class="italics">looks</em><span> like one o’ mine,” answered that
-worthy; “but—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His speech was suddenly interrupted by the rustler.
-Throughout his capture he had remained as
-mute as a trapped wolf. Now he broke in with:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes, but yu’ cain’t </span><em class="italics">swear</em><span> it’s yores.” And the
-sneering taunt conveyed a meaning that was not lost
-on his listeners.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment or two the Sergeant scanned the
-faces of the two men, a lazy, tolerant smile playing
-over his hard features as he fumbled inside the
-breast of his stable-jacket.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, he cain’t, cain’t he?” he drawled mockingly.
-“No, but </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> can, my strawberry blonde.
-Here’s a letter for yu’, Gallagher,” he continued,
-grinning. “Reckon I’ll let Shorty read it first,
-though.” And, unfolding the flap of hide, he carelessly
-held it up for that gentleman’s inspection.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With starting eyes and a ghastly imprecation the
-prisoner gazed at the missing link, fear, anger, and
-astonishment flitting in turn over his evil visage.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why, why—” he stuttered.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes, </span><em class="italics">why</em><span>—” Ellis finished for him sarcastically.
-“</span><em class="italics">Why</em><span> do yu’ aim to start in chokin’ poor coyotes
-to death with other people’s brands?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He handed the sticky piece of evidence over to
-Gallagher. “Double H.F.,” he said. “That’s
-yore brand all right, ain’t it, old-timer?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The rancher nodded wonderingly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yu’ll find it fits into th’ cut-out all hunkadory,”
-the Sergeant added.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Satisfied?” he queried presently. “All right,
-then.” And, in the set formula that the Law prescribes,
-he proceeded to formally charge and warn
-his prisoner. This duty ended, he sank down with
-a lazy yawn and, rolling a fresh cigarette, tossed it
-good-naturedly over to the captive, with a match
-along.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Have a smoke, Shorty,” he observed, with an
-indolent, meaning smile. “I guess yu’ shore needs
-one.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The three men smoked meditatively awhile, amid
-a silence that was eventually broken by Gallagher.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Playin’ it up kinder mean on me, ain’t yu’
-Shorty?” he remarked bitterly. “I reckon I’ve always
-treated </span><em class="italics">yu’</em><span> white.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The shackled man, with sullen, averted eyes, gave
-a hopeless shrug.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Didn’t aim to put it over on </span><em class="italics">yu’</em><span> in particular,
-Barney,” he mumbled in a low voice. “I was just
-a ridin’ past here, casual like, lookin’ for some
-horses, when I see this steer a tryin’ to catch up to
-th’ bunch with a broken leg. I kin pay yu’ for it,”
-he added defiantly. “An’ if yu’—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Payin’</em><span> don’t go on a job like this,” interjected
-the Sergeant sharply. “Even if Barney </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> willin’....
-Case is out of his hands. Besides, if yu’ can
-afford to pay for beef yu’ ain’t obliged to rustle it.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Broken leg,” he continued, with an incredulous
-grin. “Yes, an’ I guess it ain’t hard to figure </span><em class="italics">what</em><span>
-broke it. I’ve seen th’ way yu’ rope an’ throw—lots
-of times. </span><em class="italics">Casual!</em><span> What? Oh, mighty
-bloody </span><em class="italics">casual</em><span>! A skinnin’ knife. A block an’ tackle
-an’ a butcher’s cleaver in a gunny-sack an’ that
-big cottonwood to sling th’ beef up to out o’ reach
-of th’ coyotes till yu’ could come around with a
-wagon an’ team for it after dark. What? </span><em class="italics">Casual</em><span>,
-eh? ... well, I should smile.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A lull followed this sally. Presently Shorty raised
-his head.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“My shootin’ at that there coyote, it was, I guess,
-as fetched yu’?” he inquired gloomily. “I was
-down at th’ creek, gettin’ a drink, an’ when I was
-comin’ back I see him with somethin’ in his mouth.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis nodded and blew out a smoke ring with
-dreamy reflection.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aye, that an’ other things,” he drawled, slowly.
-“’Member makin’ that crack about a certain red-coated,
-yaller-laigged stiff whose goat yu’ was a goin’
-to get, like th’ feller’s before him? ... A little bit—not
-much—I </span><em class="italics">don’t</em><span> think. Yu’ ain’t got no Corporal
-Williamson here. I’ve been a-layin’ for yu’
-ever since, an’ now I reckon it’s yu’ for th’ goat.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Gallagher, listening amusedly, uttered his low,
-barking laugh.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Goat!” he chuckled softly. “Goat!” The
-expression seemed to tickle his imagination greatly.
-“Don’t often get it put over yu’, Sargint, I’ll gamble.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, I don’t know,” said Benton lazily. “Do
-sometimes.” He wriggled into a more comfortable
-position. “Talkin’ o’ goats,” he continued, with a
-dreamy smile of reflection, “just for th’ sake of a
-yarn I’ll give myself away.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“It was two winters back—when I was stationed
-at Goddard,” he began. “I caught a feller there
-fixin’ up another man’s calf—all same Shorty, here.
-I got th’ owner to identify th’ hide an’ locked th’
-feller up. Inspector Purvis happened to be down
-that day inspectin’ detachments, so I rustled up another
-J.P. and got them to commit this gink. I
-mind his wife came to see him that night, an’ kinder
-out of respect for her feelin’s I kept out o’ hearin’
-while they chewed th’ rag. Next evenin’—I had a
-case on durin’ th’ day—I drives to th’ station with
-him to catch th’ eight-thirty East-bound, usin’ a
-wagon an’ team I’d borrowed. We had to pass </span><em class="italics">his</em><span>
-place on th’ way, an’ he says to me, kinder simple
-like: ‘Corporal,’—I was a corporal then—‘I’ll
-most-like be awaitin’ trial some time an’ I’ll be
-wantin’ some clothes. I fixed it up with th’ woman
-last night to have ’em ready when we come past.
-D’yu’ mind stoppin’?’ ‘All right,’ I says, never
-suspicionin’ nothin’, for he seemed a sorter homely,
-foolish kind o’ ‘mossback.’ Sure enough, when we
-comes opposite his place, out comes his wife with a
-big, fat gunny-sack. Puts it in th’ wagon. Cries,
-an’ kisses him, an’ says ‘good-by.’ It was a bitter
-cold night, I mind, an’ I had my fur coat collar
-turned up high ’round my face, an’ my cap pulled
-down. Presently, when we was about half ways
-there, he starts in to groan an’ shiver up against me.
-‘What’s up?’ I says. ‘Cramps,’ says he, still
-groanin’. ‘Gosh, but I’ve got ’em bad.’ There
-was some straw in th’ bottom of th’ wagon, an’
-thinkin’ it might ease him some if he lay down a bit,
-I helped him over th’ seat into th’ box, an’ he lay
-down amongst th’ straw, with his gunny-sack for a
-pillow—</span><em class="italics">mine</em><span>, with th’ calfskin exhibit in it, alongside
-me on th’ off-side of th’ seat. Havin’ cuffs an’
-leg-shackles on him I knew he wouldn’t be fool
-enough to make any kind of a breakaway, especially
-as he really seemed sick, so I didn’t watch him particularly
-close, an’ we jogged along through th’ dark.
-He still seemed pretty bad when we made th’ station,
-so I got him a slug of whiskey an’ we boarded
-th’ train. I handed him over at the guardroom,
-when we got into th’ Post—locked up my gunnysack,
-an’ beat it back on th’ West-bound that was late
-that night. I didn’t want to be around th’ Post next
-day for fear Mickey, th’ S.M., might keep me in for
-duty. Well, the case came up about three months
-later at th’ Supreme Court.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Mr. Man hires him a lawyer an’ pleads ‘not guilty,’
-as bold as brass. As I figured I had th’ case
-all hunkadory I only had one witness—th’ owner
-of th’ calf. I goes into the box an’ gives my evidence
-an’ pulls out th’ hide exhibit to identify. A
-red an’ white one I’d put in an’ a red an’ white one
-I pulls out, but I well-nigh had a fit when I saw th’
-brand on it. It was th’ prisoner’s </span><em class="italics">own</em><span>. I looked
-like a proper fool, I guess, with th’ mossback an’ his
-‘mouthpiece’ both givin’ me th’ ‘ha, ha.’ Luckily
-for me, Inspector Purvis happened to be in court an’
-of course his statement that everything had been in
-order at th’ preliminary trial when he committed th’
-man was accepted by the judge, an’ after a hard
-fight with th’ defending counsel—who, of course,
-wanted to proceed right then an’ there—we got th’
-case set over, an’ started in to investigate. ’Twasn’t
-much use, though. They—th’ prisoner, his wife,
-an’ th’ lawyer—put it all over us—easy. Yes,
-</span><em class="italics">sir</em><span>, they had th’ bulge on us, all right, an’ they knew
-it. Case was dismissed at its second hearing through
-lack of evidence—th’ judge intimating, however,
-that he was satisfied that there’d been some funny
-work somewhere, though, under th’ circumstances he
-had no alternative but to give th’ prisoner th’ benefit
-of th’ doubt. Th’ O.C., Purvis, an’ th’ lawyer,
-well-nigh crucified me with their remarks. Been
-mighty careful ever since, yu’ bet!</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“A constable named Mason nailed him later,
-though, for stealing a horse. He had him dead to
-rights an’ made a better job of things than me.
-My ‘rube’ got three years. I had charge of th’
-escort when we took him, along with some others,
-up to th’ ‘Pen.’ It was then that he told me the
-whole business. He’d fixed it up with his wife th’
-night she come to see him in th’ cells. When she
-came out with that gunny-sack, she’d put one of their
-own calf-hides in on top of his clothes. That’s what
-made th’ sack look so big. How in h—l he ever
-managed to snake </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> sack from alongside me on
-th’ seat—without me feelin’ him—swop them
-two hides, an’ then put it back again, was a corker,
-but he managed it, somehow, an’ dropped th’ real
-’un on th’ trail, where his wife, followin’ us up in th’
-dark on a saddle-horse, snaffled it an’ took it home
-in quick shape an’ burnt it.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>This story, delivered with the Sergeant’s characteristic
-humorous, arrogant abruptness, caused his
-listeners—in spite of the gravity of the circumstances
-attending its telling—considerable amusement.
-It was a curious anecdote for a man to relate
-of himself, especially in the midst of the somewhat
-grim situation under which they were met, but
-it was quite in keeping with Benton’s strange, complex
-character.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The three men lay silent awhile after this, each
-busy with his own reflections. Presently Gallagher,
-who was gazing absently at the scar on the
-policeman’s cheek, said quietly:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“It was yu’ killed ‘Slim’ Cashell, over to Pitman,
-wasn’t it, Sargint?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>At the question the lazy good humor died out of
-Benton’s face strangely. Bleak and inscrutable became
-his expression on the instant—lowering and
-sinister. His far-away, ruthless eyes began to glow
-with their peculiar baleful light. It was the sun suddenly
-enveloped by a storm-cloud.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aye,” he said darkly, and a long pause ensued.
-“It was me or him,” he went on, in a cold, even,
-passionless voice. “An’ my way o’ thinkin’ </span><em class="italics">an’</em><span>
-actin’ at such show-downs is th’ same, I reckon, as
-old Israel Hands’—a certain gentleman o’ fortune
-in a book I guess yu’ve never read, Barney....
-‘Him as strikes first is my fancy; dead men don’t
-bite; them’s my views—amen, so be it.’ ... He
-had his chance, anyway, an’ he left me his card,
-which I’ll pack to my grave,” he ended significantly,
-touching the scar.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The flies began to buzz around the carcass and
-the steady “munch, munch” of the feeding horses
-sounded in their ears, whilst the sun, blazing hotly
-down upon them without the mercy of a cooling
-breeze, sent up little shimmering heat-waves from
-the sagebrush-dotted parched ground. Shorty presently
-found his voice again.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Sargint,” he began, with a certain surly respect
-that it was noticeable had hitherto been omitted,
-“d’yu’ mind me askin’ yu’ a question?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis glanced at him indifferently, his deep-set
-gray eyes wide with their peculiar, aggressive blank
-stare.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Go ahead—what is it?” he said.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Shorty licked his dry lips. “Was it Jules le
-Frambois as told yu’ ’bout—?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No,” interrupted Ellis irritably. “Jules told
-me nothin’, an’ I asked him nothin’; an’ what’s more,
-I’d see yu’ an’ him ten fathoms deep in h—l before
-I’d suck up any of yu’ Ghost River crooks’ cursed
-lies.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Were it George Fisk, then—or Scotty Robbins?”
-the other pursued.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A puzzling, suspicious thought suddenly flashed
-into the policeman’s alert brain at the man’s persistence,
-and instantly his face became an inscrutable
-mask.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now yu’re talkin’,” he answered meaningly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His words produced a horrible change in the
-weather-beaten, sinister countenance of his prisoner.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“By ——, I was a-thinkin’ so.... Right from
-th’ fust crack,” he said spitefully, with an oath.
-“An’ now I’ll tell </span><em class="italics">yu’</em><span> somethin’ that ain’t no lie.
-Them two same fellers has it fixed to annex old Bob
-Tucker’s bunch o’ hawsses—tomorrer night. I
-was a-goin’ to give ’em a hand, too,” he continued
-defiantly, with reckless abandon. “They figures on
-takin’ ’em up to a place they knows of in th’ bush—up
-Ghost River way—for a spell, till things quietens
-down a bit, I guess; then they’ll drive ’em South, to
-Paralee Junction, an’ try an’ ship ’em East from
-there. George Fisk an’ me had a sorter diff’runce
-’bout whackin’ up. He says to me: ‘Take it, or
-leave it!’—them were his words—‘Me an’ Scotty
-ain’t exactly pertic’lar whether yu’ stays in th’ family
-or not,’ he says.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He paused for breath. Ellis shot a warning
-glance that spoke volumes to Gallagher who, with
-open-mouthed curiosity, was listening eagerly to this
-amazing recital.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, yu’ see they’ve double-crossed yu’, </span><em class="italics">amigo</em><span>,”
-he said, with a calm, convincing composure that left
-no further doubt in his prisoner’s mind.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Just a frame-up,” he continued. “Why, them
-fellers has good steady jobs punchin’ for th’ Wharnock
-Cattle Company, which they ain’t got no intention
-o’ leavin’ for to run off anybody’s hawsses.
-They ain’t exactly stuck on yu’ so, naturally, they
-figured this was th’ easiest way to get rid of yu’.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Shorty spat vindictively, and his pale, lynx-like,
-merciless eyes glowed as, with horrible blasphemies
-and threats, he broke out, reviling the two alleged
-informers.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Frame-up!” he snarled. “Yes! ... on me
-</span><em class="italics">an’</em><span> yu’. Why, this very beef here was for ’em, while
-they was up cached in the bush. Feller was a-goin’
-to foller ’em up with it in a wagon. </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> won’t be th’
-only one to get double-crossed, as yu’ll find. Yu’ll
-be gettin’ one o’ th’ worst falls </span><em class="italics">yu’</em><span> ever got in yore
-natural if yu’ turn this whisper o’ mine down now.
-Well, I’ve told yu’, anyways.” And, spent with his
-rage, he lay back like a man weary of life.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The practical Gallagher glanced up at the slowly
-descending sun and leapt to his feet.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Time’s gettin’ on,” he said. “I don’t figure on
-losin’ that beef, anyways.... It’s a-stiffenin’ up
-a’ready.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, picking up Shorty’s knife, with practised dexterity,
-he proceeded to complete what the rustler
-had begun. Ellis, outwardly nonchalant, but seething
-inwardly with excitement at the news, the truth
-of which was confirmed unhesitatingly by a certain
-native intuition he possessed, lent him a hand at intervals
-and, presently, with the aid of the block-and-tackle
-and a lariat on one of the saddle-horses, the
-two sides of roughly dressed beef were slung up to
-a branch of the big cottonwood tree, well out of
-reach of the coyotes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Catching up the rustler’s patient horse, the Sergeant
-picked up the rifle and, after pumping out the
-shells, thrust it into its scabbard slung under the
-legadeiro of the saddle; then, knotting the lines
-around the horn, he proceeded to swiftly fashion a
-hackamore with his lariat.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Reckon yu’ll have to ride as yu’ are, Shorty,”
-he said. “I’m a-goin’ to trail yu’ alongside.
-What’s up?” he added, as the other, with manacled
-hands on the saddle-horn, in the act of mounting,
-was staring at the buckskin with interest.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Some hawss, that, yu’re ridin’, Sargint,” he remarked,
-with a meaning, bitter smile.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Some,” assented Ellis dryly. “Well, yu’ oughta
-know—bein’ as ’twas yu’ topped him off. </span><em class="italics">Umbagi!</em><span>—let’s
-</span><em class="italics">trek</em><span>. Don’t forget that hide, Barney!” he
-shouted. “Hang onto that brand, too—mind
-Shorty don’t swop it on yu’,” he added with grim
-pleasantry.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The rancher, busily rolling up the bloody mass,
-with the rustler’s knife and cleaver inside, responded
-with one of his customary barking laughs and, lashing
-it on behind his saddle, mounted; and with him
-bringing up the rear, the little cavalcade turned
-homewards.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>In due time they arrived at the detachment, and
-the Sergeant, after carefully searching and locking
-up his prisoner, withdrew outside the building to
-discuss matters with Gallagher.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Guess there ain’t no Bull-Durham about th’ tip
-old Bob Tucker’s got this trip,” he said with conviction.
-“Wonder who ’twas put that old stiff
-wise?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was more excited than was his wont, and his
-brow was contracted with impatient thought.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Reckon he’s tellin’ th’ straight tale?” Gallagher
-ventured dubiously, with a back-flung jerk
-of his head to the building.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Shore,” answered the policeman. “’Twas just
-a bit o’ lucky gammon I threw into him—I’d no idea
-he’d fall for it like he did. Yu’re a witness of his
-admissions of being an accomplice o’ these fellers.
-As a matter o’ fact,” he continued, with a sly grin,
-“I haven’t seen either o’ </span><em class="italics">them</em><span> for well-nigh a month
-now. ’Twas Little Benny Parker wised me up ’bout
-what Shorty figured he was goin’ to do for me....
-He was down at th’ post-office one mail day—quite
-a while ago, this is—an’ these fellers was all outside
-together a-talkin’—Jules le Frambois along.
-Benny’s only a little nipper, an’ bein’ on th’ other
-side o’ his horse, cinchin’ up, I guess they didn’t
-notice him. Some cute kid, Benny!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He remained silent for a space, in deep thought.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Barney,” he said presently, “I’d like yore help
-in this business. Scotty Robbins ain’t o’ much account.
-He’s a poor cur, he is. But Big George’s
-some bad man. I’ve got his record from over th’
-Line. He’s done two fives an’ a three-year term
-for horse-stealin’, an’ I know for a fact, too, that
-he’s a gun artist. He killed two men in a dirty
-mix-up at Los Barancedes, over in New Mexico,
-quite a while back. Th’ Rurales well-nigh put th’
-kibosh on him, but somehow he beat ’em out. So,
-yu’ see,” he concluded with a whimsical smile, “it
-ain’t exactly a one-man job—at night, too. That
-is, if yu’re willin’?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His request was met more than half-way.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Eyah! that I will, Sargint,” the other answered
-bluntly and briefly. “I guess I know me duty as
-a law-abidin’ man should.” He had, in his brief
-acquaintance, formed a profound respect for the
-fearless man who sought his assistance.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I know it’s not exactly a civilian’s end o’ th’ deal
-to get shoved into takin’ unnecessary risks,” Ellis
-went on. “If I had time I’d ride out to Buffalo
-Wallow an’ get Nicholson—he’s about due there,
-on patrol. But I haven’t ... an’ this lay’s supposed
-to come off tomorrow night. Besides, I
-wanta go an’ see Tucker. Pity old Boswell, th’
-J.P.’s, gone East. I’d a got yu’ sworn in as a ‘special.’
-So yu’ see how it is,” he ended simply.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Eyah!” said Gallagher, with a grim heartiness;
-“don’t yu’ worry over nothin’ son. My name’s Barney
-Gallagher. I kin ‘trail me coat’ as good as
-me father or me grandfather ever did. Yu’ll find
-I’m right there with th’ goods.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis regarded the speaker’s hard-featured face
-with its twinkling Irish-blue eyes, and his angular,
-powerful frame.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yu’ just bet yu’ are, Barney,” he murmured
-thoughtfully. “Yu’ just bet yu’ are. See here;
-look! I’ll mosey on over to Tucker’s first thing in
-th’ mornin’; an’ I’ll find out, if I can—without
-tellin’ him nothin’—what he knows. Shorty’ll be
-safe enough locked up here while we’re away, an’ if
-we nail these other two we can take th’ whole bunch
-into Sabbano for their preliminary trial. I’ll be
-back mid-day, an’ towards evenin’ we’ll slide out.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Their arrangements thus settled, Gallagher departed
-to his ranch, and Ellis proceeded to cook
-supper for himself and his prisoner. Later he fixed
-up the horses for the night and, on second thought,
-after examining Johnny’s hoof with a satisfied scrutiny,
-and leading him around a little, he wrenched
-off the remaining shoes and turned him loose in the
-pasture, where there was good feed and running
-water.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Go to it, old boy,” he chuckled, amused at that
-animal’s antics as, delighted with his unwonted freedom,
-the horse, after a roll or two, sailed off with
-a joyous kick and squeal, his previous limp now
-hardly perceptible.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis watched him lovingly a minute or two then,
-lighting his pipe, he reentered the detachment.</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-viii">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER VIII</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>He was a dirty, aged man, who to his bottle clung,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>And ever and anon did curie in some queer foreign tongue,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>The tale he told was passing strange, yet pitiful, withal—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Of the lonely, care-fraught, troublous life</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>He lived from Fall to Fall.</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">The Old Nester</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>An uneventful hour and a half’s ride next
-morning brought Benton within sight of
-Tucker’s homestead at Fish Creek. Leaving
-the main trail, he struck into an old cow-track,
-which short cut wound its way through the thick
-brush on the west side of the latter’s pasture, emerging
-from which, into a clear open space, he found
-the gate that he sought.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>What little feed there had been inside the few
-fenced-in acres was cropped as close as if sheep had
-been herded there, and a bunch of horses and a
-few gaunt cows wandered disconsolately hither
-and thither, roaming the fence round and groping
-through the wire strands at the nourishment that
-lay just beyond their reach. It was a pitiful sight
-and Ellis, with his love for animals, felt a spasm of
-anger pass through him as he noticed bad festering
-barbed-wire scratches on more than one of the poor
-hungry brutes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Th’ cursed, scared old fool,” he muttered savagely.
-“I reckon he’s got reason to be, though, if
-that whisper o’ Shorty’s is straight goods.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He rode slowly across the parched, dusty ground
-and, fording the creek, passed through the gate at
-the opposite end. Circling around the stables and
-corrals, he dismounted outside the weather-beaten
-shack in which the old man passed his lonely life.
-Dropping the buckskin’s lines, the Sergeant climbed
-up the broken steps and shoved his way in through
-the half-opened door.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With an oath he reeled back and his hand streaked
-like lightning to his hip. For a second or two he
-remained perfectly motionless then, a grim smile
-slowly relaxing his features, he dropped his hand
-and gazed silently at the strange scene that met his
-eyes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He beheld an under-sized, grizzled-bearded old
-man about sixty who, with the vacuous smile of the
-partially intoxicated, was leveling a rifle at him with
-shaking hands. He was seated in an arm-chair, at
-a rough table, that was littered with dirty crockery
-and cooking utensils. An empty glass was in front
-of him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Saku bona, N’kos</em><span>,” greeted Ellis mockingly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Saku bona, Umlungu,</em><span>” came the guttural response,
-while the wavering rifle barrel slowly descended
-and the shriveled, stringy old throat worked
-convulsively. “</span><em class="italics">Allemachtig</em><span>—but I thort you wos
-that </span><em class="italics">verdomde schelm</em><span>—Short an’ Dirty—come
-a-nosin’ arahnd agin.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Born and bred in the East End of London, thirty
-years on the South African veldt and ten in Canada,
-had not depreciated Tucker’s accent much, and his
-speech was a curious jargon of Afrikander, Cockney,
-and Western vernacular.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“H—l!” said the policeman irritably. “Is this
-th’ way yu’ greet yore friends these days? Been
-gettin’ yore Dutch up, eh?—an’ early, at that.
-What’s th’ matter with Shorty? </span><em class="italics">He’s</em><span> all right!
-Wen wos ’e arahnd?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yestiddy mornin’,” piped Tucker. “I tell yer
-I cawn’t abide that feller. I dahn’t like th’ looks of
-’im an’ I ain’t a-goin’ to ’ave ’im come a-messin’
-abaht ’ere ... ’e ain’t up ter no good. </span><em class="italics">Whau!</em><span>—I’ll
-</span><em class="italics">skiet die verdomde schepsel</em><span>,” he finished with a
-screech, and raising the rifle again.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Here! Yu’ come across with that gun!”
-snapped the Sergeant. “Yu’ make me nervous.
-Come on now, Bob—let’s have it. D’yu’ hear?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Alternately threatening and cajoling, he at length
-obtained the weapon and, jerking open the lever,
-pumped the magazine empty of shells. These he
-gathered up and put in his pocket.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Got any more?” he inquired, ledging the rifle on
-some pegs.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man glowered at him silently, and pointed
-with a shaking finger to a cupboard, where a minute
-search produced two more packets of cartridges,
-which speedily joined the others.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“A man that’s </span><em class="italics">dronk</em><span> ain’t got no business monkey’n’
-around with a gun,” remarked the policeman
-judicially.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“You’re a </span><em class="italics">leugenaar</em><span>” hiccuped Tucker indignantly.
-“I ain’t </span><em class="italics">dronk</em><span>.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No—yu’ ain’t,” retorted the Sergeant ironically.
-“Yu’ve got th’ makin’s of a first-class jag,
-though. Th’ smell of yore breath’s mighty refreshin’.
-Yu’ wanta do what’s right when a man
-wearin’ th’ King’s uniform comes arahnd yore
-</span><em class="italics">laager</em><span>.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The implied appeal to his hospitality was not lost
-upon the other who, arising with difficulty, walked
-unsteadily over to a dirty sofa and, groping underneath,
-dragged forth a half-full Imperial quart bottle
-of “Burke’s Irish.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Whau!</em><span> Got it cached, eh? I </span><em class="italics">korner</em><span>,” chuckled
-Ellis, reaching for a glass and pouring himself
-out a generous libation. “</span><em class="italics">Allemachtig</em><span>, but I’m dry
-this mornin’. Wish this was good, cold tickey beer
-instead o’ whiskey. </span><em class="italics">N’dipe manzi?</em><span>”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His elderly host, relaxing back into his arm-chair
-again, indicated a bucket and dipper. Benton mixed
-his drink and raised his glass.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Salue</em><span>,” he muttered, and drank.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Drink hael</em><span>,” the other responded gruffly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Putting down his empty glass, the Sergeant seated
-himself and proceeded to roll a cigarette.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“See here; look,” he began, licking the paper
-across. “Yu’ll be gettin’ </span><em class="italics">dronk</em><span> an’ doin’
-some poor sucker a mischief with that gun if
-yu’ ain’t careful; an’ then yu’ll most likely land in
-</span><em class="italics">die tronk</em><span> on a murder charge, </span><em class="italics">Myjnheer</em><span> Bob
-Tucker.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Say,” he continued suspiciously, as a sudden
-thought struck him. “Yu’ was over to th’ detachment
-to see me th’ day before yesterday, wasn’t
-yu’?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Ja</em><span>,” answered the old man sulkily. “An’ yer
-ain’t never abaht w’en a feller wants yer.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ignoring the testy reply, the policeman resumed:
-“When yu’ left Barney Gallagher’s which trail d’yu’
-come home by?—th’ long ’un, or th’ short ’un
-through my pasture?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Th’ short ’un,” said Tucker wonderingly.
-“W’y?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Anythin’ happen to yu’ on th’ trail?” inquired
-his interlocutor.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man hesitated a moment. “</span><em class="italics">Ja!</em><span> Did
-’ave a bit of a shindig,” he admitted shamefacedly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Ja</em><span>,” said the Sergeant. “I thought so; an’
-now I’ll tell yu’ what happened. Yu’ was </span><em class="italics">dronk</em><span> an’
-let yore lines catch under th’ end o’ th’ </span><em class="italics">disselboom</em><span>,
-an’ yore team up an’ run away on yu’. Managed
-to pull ’em up, somehow, I suppose. Providence
-always seems to hand out a special dispensation to
-fellers that’s full, else more’n likely it’s th’ hospital
-</span><em class="italics">yu’d</em><span> be in instead o’ that chair.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, I pulled </span><em class="italics">die schelms</em><span>, anyway,” said the
-other. “An’ I ’ad to go back abaht ’arf a mile fer
-a bag o’ chicken feed as fell aht.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Ja!</em><span> ... an’ a bag o’ blasted nails yu’ had
-aboard fell aht wiv’ it,” mimicked Ellis, irritably.
-“An’ my hawss picked one of ’em up in his nigh-fore
-an’ he’s been out o’ business ever since.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man, fumbling with trembling fingers
-about his waistcoat, produced a short day pipe and,
-filling it, proceeded to smoke.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“If yu’ don’t let up on th’ </span><em class="italics">dop</em><span> for a space,” resumed
-the policeman severely, “yu’ll be havin’ fancies
-again—bad ’uns, too.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The abandoned Tucker cocked a boiled eye at his
-would-be mentor.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Tchkk!” he clucked testily. “Rats ... an’
-sech like. I’ve ’ad ’em.... Yer cawn’t skeer me
-wiv yer </span><em class="italics">fancies</em><span>,” he shrilled suddenly, with senile
-defiance. “’Ow abaht </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>? ’Tis an Aberdeen
-man’s ‘Say w’en!’ yer poured aht fer yourself, I
-noticed—an’ then yer turns rahnd an’ torks ter
-me like a bloomin’ </span><em class="italics">unfundusi</em><span>. </span><em class="italics">Whau!</em><span> I </span><em class="italics">korner
-fancies</em><span>!” he wound up bitterly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant swallowed the home-thrust with a
-tolerant grin.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Ain’t figurin’ on practisin’ what I preach just
-yet,” he rejoined.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’m a pore old feller,” whimpered Tucker, dropping
-his pipe and beginning to weep with maudlin
-self-pity. “Yer all tries to ‘come it’ over me.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The gray beard jerked up and down convulsively
-with his sobs.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aw, h—l! come, now,” said Benton, not unkindly.
-“Yu’ bring a lot o’ yore troubles on yoreself.
-Why, don’t yu’ sell out here, Dad, an’ go back
-East to yore son there, where yu’d be looked after
-properly? Yu’re too old to be livin’ here on yore
-lonesome like this.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man gazed drearily through the open
-door.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I </span><em class="italics">wuz</em><span> dahn theer two years agone,” he said
-huskily, and with a querulous, childish simplicity that
-moved his hearer more than that individual cared
-to show. “My ’Arry’s a good lad, but that theer
-</span><em class="italics">vrouw</em><span> o’ ’is kills my pig properly. Nah!—there
-ain’t no peace theer. An’ th’ </span><em class="italics">kinders</em><span> cries, an’
-w’enever ’e tries ter stan’ hup fer hisself she hups
-an’ knocks ’im off th’ perch reg’lar. She started on
-me, too,” he went on, spitting vindictively. “But
-I pulled aht of it an’ come back ’ere. I ’member
-one night I went ’ome wiv a bottle ter ’ave a smile
-wiv me b’y. Th’ kitchen door were shut, an’ I c’ud
-’ear ’em a-goin’ to it fer fair. All of a sudden there
-come such a smack, that I guess she were a-tryin’ ter
-prove whether ’is block or ’er mop-stick were th’
-’ardest. I weren’t a-goin’ buttin’ in where dry pokes
-an’ ’ard words wuz a-goin’, so I </span><em class="italics">trekked</em><span> ant of it
-quick—dahn ter th’ pub on th’ corner o’ Iroquois
-Street, an’ got </span><em class="italics">dronk</em><span> peaceful on me own. Nah,”
-he concluded, spitting again contemptuously, “folks
-is best single.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant looked hard at the careworn, dissipated
-old face, doubting—and not for the first
-time, either—whether, under that simple exterior,
-there lay not a better philosophy than he himself
-could boast of.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aye,” he agreed slowly. “Like as not yu’re
-right, Dad—like as not. Now, what was it yu’
-come to see me about?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man fidgeted in his chair uneasily.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“You mind me a-tellin’ yer once abaht that theer
-old nitchie ‘Roll-in-th’-Mud,’ as I fahnd larst year
-in th’ bush, wiv ’is leg broke, an’ took back ter th’
-Agency ag’in?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The policeman nodded. He had heard the oft-repeated
-tale more times than he could remember.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well,” continued his host. “Th’ old feller
-comes arahnd ter see me now an’ ag’in—just ter
-say ‘Howdy’ an’ cadge a bit o’ baccer. Well, th’
-mornin’ I come over ter see you I wuz ahtside th’
-stable </span><em class="italics">inspannin’</em><span> me team, meanin’ fer ter </span><em class="italics">trek</em><span> over
-ter Barney Gallagher’s fer some chicken feed an’
-stuff, w’en ’e comes a-jiggin’ by, a-</span><em class="italics">sjambokin’</em><span> ’is old
-cayuse like them nitchies ullus does. ’E pulls hup
-w’en ’e sees me, an’ grins. ‘Howdy,’ says I.
-‘Howdy,’ says ’e. I dahn’t savvy ’is </span><em class="italics">indaba</em><span>, so we
-ullus mykes sign tork. ’E seemed kind o’ excited
-like an’ ’e catches me by th’ coat an’ leads me rahnd
-th’ back o’ th’ stable, where we cud see th’ ’orses in
-th’ field. ’E starts in ter wive ’is arms like as if ’e
-wuz a-tryin’ ter imityte a bloke a-drivin’ ’em aw’y
-to’rds th’ West, then ’e touches ’is chest an’ grunts
-‘</span><em class="italics">Naymoyer, naymoyer</em><span>,’ two or three times, an’
-shykes ’is ’ead. I catches on ter wot ’e meant, quick ... cudn’t
-’elp it. ’E wuz a-meanin’ that some
-bloke wuz a-goin’ ter try an’ run ’em off from me,
-an’ wanted ’im ter ’elp ’im an’ ’e wudn’t. That’s
-wot ’e meant,” wound up Tucker breathlessly, turning
-an imploring, frightened face to the Sergeant.
-“An’ I figger that theer bloke wuz that same </span><em class="italics">schelm</em><span>,
-Short an’ Dirty.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For reasons of his own, the policeman tried to
-allay the old man’s shrewd suspicions.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now, don’t yu’ go for to get a-blamin’ poor
-Shorty for everythin’. He ain’t figurin’ to do yu’
-no harm. P’r’aps th’ nitchie was only meanin’ yore
-stock wanted turnin’ out of that god-forsaken pasture
-o’ yores, onto th’ range again, where they can
-rustle a bite. It’s a blasted shame, yore coopin’ ’em
-up like that. That’s what old ‘Roll-in-th’-Mud’
-meant.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Thus he chided, but Tucker only shook his
-gray head obstinately, and clung firmly to his pet
-conviction.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Had any more visitors th’ last two or three days
-besides Shorty?” queried Benton.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man struggled with his liquor-fumed wits
-awhile, torturing his memory.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Let’s see,” he said slowly. “W’y, yes!...
-That theer young feller—Scotty Robbins, I think’s
-’is nyme—wot works fer th’ Wharnock outfit ...
-’e come arahnd abaht fower d’ys ago. ’E’s come
-’ere ter see me lots o’ times. ’E said once as ’ow
-’e wished ’e ’ad th’ money ter buy me plice. ’E
-seems a nice, kind-’earted young feller—that.
-Sometimes ’e brings another feller wot works wiv
-’im along too. ’E’s a big chap—’is nyme’s Fisk.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” said Ellis meditatively. “I know ’em.
-They’re both nice, kind-’earted fellers, as yu’ say.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at his watch and jumped to his feet.
-“Well, I reckon I’ll be pullin’ back,” he said. “I’ll
-go on over to th’ Reserve sometime soon, and see old
-Roll-in-th’-Mud, an’ have a palaver with him through
-an interpreter.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man arose shakily and, with a string of
-Dutch and Zulu maledictions on his supposed enemies,
-put a trembling, withered hand on the policeman’s
-sleeve.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yer won’t let any o’ th’ </span><em class="italics">schelms</em><span> put anyfink
-over on me, will yer, son?” he said wistfully.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton turned and looked at him kindly, and a
-wave of compassionate pity for the helpless old reprobate
-who besought his protection, not unmixed
-with anger at the men who aimed to despoil him,
-stirred his deep, sympathetic nature strangely.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now, don’t yu’ worrit none. I’ll look after
-yu’, Dad,” he said gently. “Only yu’ wanta take a
-tumble an’ turn that stock o’ yores out tomorrow ... they’re
-starvin’. An’ don’t yu’ go a-gettin’
-full an’ monkey’n’ around with that gun no more,
-else I won’t,” he added warningly. “I’m a-goin’
-to keep them shells for a time, to insure yore good
-behavior.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Tucker, overwhelming him with abject promises
-of immediate and lasting reform, tottered out into
-the open after him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“W’en I see that theer buckskin ’orse o’ Barney
-Gallagher’s thru’ th’ winder, I made shore as it wuz
-Short an’ Dirty comin’ arahnd ag’in,” he piped.
-“W’y, </span><em class="italics">’e</em><span> used ter ride ’im.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Ja</em><span>,” answered Ellis enigmatically, as he swung
-into the saddle. “</span><em class="italics">Used.</em><span> Well, so long, Dad.
-Mind what I told yu’, now. I’ll be around to see
-yu’ again soon.”</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-ix">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER IX</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“Saint Pether ... who hold’st th’ Keys av Hivin—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Oi’m poor ... an’ Oi’m old ... comin’ sixty-sivin—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Thru’ booze ... ? Eyah!—partly ... but honust, Oi’ve bin—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Saint Pether ... Och!—won’t ye—plaze—let me—come in?”</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">The Derelict</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>With a feeling of exultation he loped
-swiftly away. His morning had not been
-wasted, he reflected. “All over but th’
-shoutin’,” he muttered.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Wish I’d got time to go an’ see that nitchie,
-though. Can’t make th’ Agency today, now. Well,
-let’s see how this comes off. I can get that old beggar
-any old time.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Then, suddenly, an uneasy thought crossed his
-mind. What if they didn’t show up. If they were
-hanging around somewhere close at hand, and had
-seen him coming and going from Tucker’s. His
-alert eyes flickered around the rolling stretch of
-prairie unceasingly, but nothing more disturbing
-than a few scattered bunches of horses and cattle appeared
-to his vision. Presently, topping the summit
-of a small rise on the familiar trail, he came
-within sight of the detachment again.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he pulled up sharply.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why, hello!” he ejaculated. “What th’ devil’s
-up now?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For, in the distance, he saw a team and wagon
-outside the dwelling, with two figures scuffling at the
-horses’ heads, and the wind brought to his ears the
-sounds of a violent altercation. Jabbing the spurs
-into the buckskin, he raced towards them, and his
-speed soon brought him up to the combatants, who
-were just picking themselves up from a clinch on
-the ground. In one of them he immediately recognized
-a rancher in the district named Pryce—commonly
-known as “Ginger” Pryce, from the somewhat
-sanguine color of his hair and corresponding
-temperament. The other, a tall, stooping, shrunken-faced
-old man, was a stranger to him. The latter’s
-face was bleeding, and he was gasping for breath
-from his encounter with his younger antagonist with
-long, wheezy, asthmatical sobs that shook his emaciated
-body terribly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Here, now! What in h—l’s this racket
-about?” shouted the Sergeant, dismounting.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Spitting, and breathing heavily, Pryce burst out:
-“Them hawsses an’ wagon is mine!” He choked
-with his rage, and paused to regain his wind. “Yu’
-’member I come around to yu’ when they was stole
-’bout three weeks ago?” he ran on excitedly. “I
-was comin’ along th’ trail ’bout a mile nor’west o’
-here when I meets this old stiff comin’ sailin’ along
-with </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> team an’ wagon, as bold as yu’ like. He
-says he bought ’em, an’ he’s showed me a bill o’
-sale that he says he got off’n th’ feller he bought ’em
-from ... but I’ll gamble it’s only a faked-up one,
-an’ </span><em class="italics">he’s</em><span> th’ feller what stole ’em. I made him drive
-on here to yore place. Yu’ wasn’t in, so we gets
-arguin’, an’ he calls me a ‘red-headed rooster.’ I
-won’t take that off’n any man—old or young.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why didn’t yu’ put th’ boots to him while yu’
-was at it?” said Ellis, with sneering sarcasm.
-“He’s only an old man an’ I guess yu’ could easy
-do it.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, old gentleman,” he continued. “What
-about this outfit? Where’d yu’ get ’em?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Pale and exhausted, the aged man strove to recover
-from his distress. His agitation was pitiable,
-and the Sergeant gave him time and waited quietly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Speech suddenly broke from him, in a torrent of
-expostulation.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I didn’t steal ’em!” he shrilled, in a thin, high,
-cracked falsetto. “I didn’t!—I bought ’em honest ... an’
-I’ve got th’ bill o’ sale to prove it.
-I’m an honest man ... always have bin ... an’—an’
-this feller here’s abused me an’ beat me up ... an’ he’s
-twenty years younger’n me, if he’s a
-day. O-oh, o-oh, oh, my God!...” And the tears
-ran down his lined old face into his gray beard.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yu’ did steal ’em, you old liar—yu’ know yu’
-did!” Pryce commenced to yell back at him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aw, quit yore squallin’, Pryce,” snarled the policeman
-angrily, “or I’ll damned soon give yu’
-somethin’ to squall about. This ain’t a dog fight.
-</span><em class="italics">I’m</em><span> runnin’ this inquiry, an’ I’ll have it conducted in
-a proper manner. Just yu’ keep yore traps closed—both
-of yu’—an’ only open ’em to answer my
-questions. D’yu’ hear?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>This roughly administered tonic had its effect, and
-the agitators grew perceptibly quieter. The Sergeant
-watched them narrowly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now, let’s start in again,” he said. “Yu’,
-Pryce! Yore team, wagon an’ harness disappeared
-on th’—th’—wait a bit, I’ve got it in my notebook—‘on
-th’ sixth o’ June. Team o’ dark bays,
-branded E four on th’ right shoulder. One with
-white star on forehead an’ two white hind-fetlocks,
-an’ t’other, white strip on forehead, an’ a small
-kidney-sore on left side o’ back. Heavy, double-stitched
-harness, with brass-mounted hames.
-Wagon—Studebaker—almost new.’”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He leisurely examined the brands on the team and
-nodded as if satisfied.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“That’s yore team all right,” he said. “Now,
-let’s have a look at th’ wagon. ‘Studebakers’ is
-common enough. Is there any marks, or somethin’
-yu’ can positively swear to, about it—harness, th’
-same?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The other, nodding sulkily, indicated various features
-of identification.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With a final scrutiny, Ellis turned to the old man
-who, by this time, had recovered sufficiently to give
-fairly coherent answers.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Let’s have a look at yore bill o’ sale, Dad,” he
-said.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The other, fumbling with shaking old hands about
-his pockets, at length produced a dirty folded paper.
-Benton opened it and proceeded to scan it closely,
-with a running commentary.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“‘Sold to Hiram Bryan. One bay team.
-Branded E four on right shoulder.’ H’m, h’m.
-‘Thirteenth of June.’ Unlucky day for yu’, Dad.
-‘One horse, two white’—h’m, h’m, descriptions correspond
-O. K. ‘Two hundred an’ fifty.’ Got th’
-outfit cheap enough ... but I don’t know ...
-nigh horse is all right, but th’ off’n ain’t worth a
-d—n with them bog-spavins. Seems to be made out
-in order, all right. Hello! Whose signature’s
-this? ‘Gordon Brown’!” He looked up suddenly.
-“Now, perhaps you’ll tell me who, an’ what like of
-a feller this ‘Mister Gordon Brown’ is?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man gazed at his interlocutor out of
-watering, rheumy eyes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why, he’s a big feller, with a black beard,” he
-piped unhesitatingly. And slowly and haltingly,
-with heavy, asthmatical breathing, he began his labored
-explanation.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’d just come over th’ Line, from Nebrasky.
-Things was bad down ther’, an’ I figgered on filin’
-on a bit of a homestead somewheres around this part
-o’ th’ country. I was in th’ hotel at Sabbano when
-I first met this feller—him an’ his partner, a
-younger chap—an’ we got a-talkin’ together. He
-said as how they’d had a homestead down this ways,
-but had got burnt out ... so they was—or he
-was—goin’ ter take up ’nother place, somewheres
-up in th’ bush, west o’ here ... later. I told him
-as I had a bit o’ money an’ was a-figgerin’ on buyin’
-a wagon an’ team ... an’ he says: ‘Why, we’ll
-sell yu’ our’n ... we ain’t got no use fer ’em jest
-now, an’ afterwards I kin offer yu’ a job—freightin’
-some stuff o’ ours up to our new place.’ He said
-as how him an’ his partner were a-workin’ fer an
-outfit called th’ Wharnock Cattle Company.” (Ellis
-started involuntarily.) “They was a freightin’ some
-supplies back ter th’ outfit with a four-horse team,
-an’ he says ter me: ‘Yu’ kin come back with us, ef
-yu’ like, an’ see th’ team an’ wagon ... an’ ef yu’
-buy ’em, I guess I kin get yu’ a job teamin’ fer th’
-company till we’re ready ter pull out ter our own
-place.’ They’d got a big load on, so it was a two-days’
-trip, an’ th’ night we gets ther’, he says:
-‘We’ve got ’em bein’ kept over at a friend o’ our’n.
-Me partner here’ll go get ’em in th’ mornin’.’ Well,
-th’ young feller brings ’em in th’ next afternoon an’,
-as they looked as th’ kind I wanted, an’ th’ price bein’
-all right why, I buys ’em, an’ he gives me this bill o’
-sale.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“D’yu’ pay him cash?” inquired Ellis.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man nodded wearily. “Two hunnerd
-an’ fifty dollars,” he murmured. “I on’y had a
-hundred left, but they got me inter a poker game
-at th’ outfit, an’ they skinned me o’ that. Th’ big
-feller, he fixed it up with th’ foreman fer me ter
-work ther’ with me team fer a week or two. Th’
-day before yestiddy he comes ter me an’ he says:
-‘Termorrer mornin’ yu’ get yore team an’ pull out
-fer Cherry Creek. We’re ready ter quit now, an’
-there’s some stuff down ther’ as we wants yu’ ter
-freight up ter our place in th’ bush.’ He tells me th’
-way, an’ he says: ‘Yu’ hit th’ trail that goes south,
-past a feller called Barney Gallagher’s. Don’t yu’
-</span><em class="italics">stop</em><span> ther’, though. Ther’ll be a feller with red
-hair, on a white hawss, meet yu’ somewheres around
-ther’, and’ he’ll show yu’ wher’ ther’ stuff is, an’
-help yu’ ter get it loaded.’ Well, I pulls out, an’
-comes over here, an’ fust thing I know is, I meets
-up with this feller” (here he indicated Pryce), “an’
-he holds me up, an’ says as how th’ team an’ wagon’s
-his’n,” he wound up, with a hopeless inflection in his
-tones.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>There followed a long silence. The policeman
-remained in deep thought awhile.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“See here; look,” he said. “Yu’ tell me as near
-as yu’ can, what this big feller’s like.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man looked at him absently a moment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Eh?” he said. “Why, he’s a big feller with
-a black beard. They calls him ‘George’ around
-th’ outfit. Th’ young feller ... they calls </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>
-‘Scotty.’ I dunno what his other name is. All my
-dealin’s has bin mostly with th’ big feller—‘George.’
-He does all th’ talkin’ ... an’ th’ young chap ...
-seems ter do as he tells him.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant nodded gravely. “That settles it,”
-he said sharply.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Pryce, who, all this time, had been an eager listener,
-now sputtered excitedly: “Why, why—that’s
-George Fisk an’ Scotty Robbins he’s a-meanin’.
-Must be. H—l! </span><em class="italics">They’re</em><span> all right. I know ’em
-both well. It ain’t likely as </span><em class="italics">they’d</em><span> come a-sneakin’
-’round a feller’s place while he was away an’ steal
-his outfit. I’m a-goin’ ter ride over ter th’ Wharnock
-outfit right now an’ see’f this old gink’s a-tellin’
-th’ truth,” he ended, with a spiteful glance at the
-old man.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis turned and regarded him with his peculiar,
-blank, aggressive stare.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, I guess yu’ </span><em class="italics">ain’t</em><span>,” he drawled coldly.
-“That’s </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> end o’ this business. I know more about
-them same two fellers’n what yu’ do. I know this
-much, too. From information I’ve received, yu’
-wouldn’t find ’em </span><em class="italics">at</em><span> th’ outfit just now, anyways.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The other stared at him sullenly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“That ther’ team an’ wagon’s mine, no matter
-whether them fellers is at home or abroad,” he
-began blusteringly. “An’ I guess I’ll take ’em back
-with me.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Reckon yu’ve got another guess comin’, then,”
-rejoined the policeman dryly. “Th’ outfit may be
-your’n, all right, but yu’ don’t get ’em till this business
-is all cleared up, an’ th’ Court orders ’em to be
-returned to yu’. When I’m ready, I’ll notify yu’ to
-come into Sabbano—with yore witnesses, yu’ understand—to
-prove yore ownership. D’yu’ get me
-now?” he rapped out harshly, with a rising inflection
-in his tones.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The red-headed rancher regarded him with a
-sulky, brooding stare, the premeditated retort dying
-on his lips. For there was </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> in the Sergeant’s
-face and voice, just then, that forbade any talking
-back; so, with a last, lingering, dissatisfied look at
-his newly found property, he slowly mounted his
-waiting horse and rode away.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton noted the course he took with grim satisfaction.
-No fear of his meeting </span><em class="italics">them</em><span> now. He
-was going home, all right—his place </span><em class="italics">lay</em><span> nor’east,
-he reflected. </span><em class="italics">They</em><span> would come in from the sou’west.
-He turned to the old man, whom the bill of sale had
-named as Bryan.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Unhitch that team an’ put ’em in th’ stable,
-Bryan,” he said. “An’ take th’ harness off ’em.
-I’m a-goin’ to hold yu’ on a charge of vagrancy till
-this mix-up’s all squared out.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly the other complied with the Sergeant’s
-order and, leading the horses into the stable, endeavored
-to unharness them; but the weight of the
-heavy, brass-mounted hames seemed too much for
-his strength to raise and hang on the stable-pegs.
-He staggered and almost fell, the Sergeant coming
-to his assistance, and giving him a hand.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“An’ </span><em class="italics">yu’</em><span> figured on takin’ up a homestead, Dad?”
-he said incredulously. “Why, with yore age, an
-th’ shape yu’re in, it’d kill yu’. Yu’ ain’t fit for
-nothin’ like </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>. Whatever d’yu’ come over here
-for? Ain’t yu’ no friends—relations, or family,
-back where yu’ come from—to look after yu’?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man shook his gray head despondently
-and, with a weary sigh and long-drawn whistling
-breaths, sank down on an oat bin.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I did hev one time,” he wheezed, in the cracked,
-querulous tones of the aged. “Plenty o’ money,
-too! Oh, I hed lots o’ friends—then. I raised
-four of a family—three boys an’ a girl. They’re
-all married, an’ livin’ in different parts o’ th’ States.
-They don’t bother none over th’ ol’ man—now.
-Th’ wife—she was th’ last one as I hed in th’
-world ter call friend. She died last Christmas, so
-I come over here. Son,” he said, with an impressive
-solemnity, pausing a moment, “whin yu’ see a
-man o’ my years down an’ out, what d’yu’ gen’rally
-figger’s wrong?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis, with an inscrutable face, was thoughtfully
-studying the venerable, weary countenance of his
-elderly vis-a-vis.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Booze?” he queried slowly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I reckon yu’ hev it,” was the hopeless reply.
-“Me own worst friend! But—I hev always bin
-honest.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The policeman considered the other’s face a moment
-or two longer, then suddenly made up his mind.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’ll take a chance on it,” he muttered; then, raising
-his voice. “See here; look, Bryan,” he said.
-“Sizin’ things up as they’ve panned out up to date,
-I believe yu’ve been tellin’ me th’ straight tale, all
-right. Now, I’ve got another feller in here—locked
-up. There’s only one cell. But I’m not
-a-goin’ to shut yu’ in with a dirty criminal like him,
-if yu’ll give me yore word as th’ honest man yu’ call
-yoreself, yu’ won’t try to skip out on me. I’ll be
-away tonight—or th’ best part o’ th’ night—on
-duty. So yu’ an’ this feller’ll be alone in here.
-Yu’re not to talk to him, mind. Yu’ can give him a
-cup o’ water thru’ th’ bars if he wants it, but no
-matches or anythin’ to smoke. I’m takin’ no chances
-on a fire while I’m away. Yu’ can just lay around
-an’ sleep on my cot, an’ let that feller think as yu’re
-a-watchin’ him. ’Member,” he added warningly,
-“if yu’ </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> try to skip, I could easy catch yu’ ag’in ... an’
-it’d be a sure sign yu’ was a guilty accomplice
-o’ these fellers. I need yu’ as an all-important
-witness, an’ this is th’ only chance yu’ve got of gettin’
-clear. D’yu’ get me now?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man, seeming grateful at the trust thus
-reposed in him, eagerly gave the required promise.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Son,” he said solemnly. “I give yu’ my word.
-Yu’re treatin’ me like a white man.”</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-x">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER X</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>No maiden’s hand is round thee thrown!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>That desperate grasp thy frame might feel,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Through bars of brass and triple steel!—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>They tug, they strain! down, down they go,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>The Gael above, Fitz-James below.</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">Scott</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Seven o’clock came, and the Sergeant, with
-a few parting instructions to old Hiram Bryan,
-saddled up and departed for Gallagher’s.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The latter who, pipe in mouth, was seated on the
-steps of his shack busily splicing a hondu in a rawhide
-lariat, or riata, looked up at the other’s approach,
-and glanced curiously at the Sergeant’s unfamiliar
-dress and mount.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Hello,” he said waggishly. “Fancy-dress ball,
-eh? What’s th’ idea?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For Benton was riding the prisoner’s white horse
-and also wearing that gentleman’s chaps, coat, hat,
-and white handkerchief.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis grinned. “They’re expaictin’ Shorty,” he
-said. “Mustn’t disappoint ’em.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Half an hour later the two men rode slowly along
-the trail leading to Fish Creek. The evening shadows
-began to close in, but they dawdled, keeping a
-wary look-out and talking in low, guarded tones, for
-voices carry far over the range on still nights.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Sergeant,” said Gallagher casually, during their
-progress. “’Member, it ain’t that I’m grudgin’
-givin’ yu’ this bit o’ help but, d’yu’ know, I’ve often
-thort it kinder queer-like as yu’ don’t get ’em to give
-yu’ another man to help yu’ out here?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis did not reply immediately. “I could,” he
-said presently. “But what’d be th’ use? They’d
-most likely send me along some gentlemanly young
-‘Percy,’ just fresh up from Regina, who didn’t know
-his mouth from a hole in th’ ground. It ain’t no
-child’s play—handlin’ th’ crooked stock cases in a
-district like this. A man’s got to be onto his job
-right from th’ drop o’ th’ hat. Look how they put
-it over Williamson—what! He should never have
-come here. He should have stayed with that staff
-job in th’ Q.M.’s store ... never did nothin’ else
-since he’s bin in th’ Force. They saddled me with a
-peach once, I mind—when I was stationed at Goddard.
-He was a nice, well-meanin’ kid, all right,
-but all th’ same he queered two o’ th’ best cases I’ve
-ever had,” he ended bitterly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>They rode side by side in silence awhile.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yu’ heeled?” inquired the Sergeant quietly.
-And, as the other nodded, and tapped his hip significantly:
-“Mind, though, I ain’t anxious to have
-any shootin’ on this business, unless it’s absolutely
-necessary. I don’t want no cursed chasin’ in th’
-dark, either, with th’ chances o’ th’ hawsses comin’
-down wallop, in every doggoned badger-hole around.
-I ain’t just figured </span><em class="italics">how</em><span> I’m a-goin’ to get ’em yet!
-Can’t tell, this stage o’ th’ game. It’ll most likely
-have to be somethin’ almighty sudden, yu’ can take
-yore oath o’ that!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Arriving later at the previously mentioned line of
-brush that fringed the west side of Tucker’s pasture,
-they struck in along the old cow trail and dismounting
-about thirty yards from the gate, still within the
-shelter of the dense bush, they squatted down and
-awaited events.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A three-quarter moon showed itself rarely through
-a thick rift of clouds and, as their eyes became accustomed
-to the curious gray light that flooded everything
-around, objects within a certain radius stood
-out with surprising clearness.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Lord!” said the policeman in a low undertone,
-“I wish we could smoke. ’Twon’t do to chance
-strikin’ a match, though. Reckon they’ll foller th’
-fence-line from th’ sou’west angle when they </span><em class="italics">do</em><span>
-come. Good job Tucker ain’t got no dogs to start
-in yappin’. Guess </span><em class="italics">he’s</em><span> drunk an’ sleepin’ by now.
-Good job, too, he don’t know no more’n he does.
-He’d be a-runnin’ around all worked up like a flea
-in a mitt, with that old Mauser o’ his, an’ shootin’
-at th’ moon.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“We’ll have ter look out for them hawsses o’
-our’n a-whinnyin’, too,” said Gallagher anxiously.
-“That’s what I’m scared of.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A slow, dreary hour passed. Ellis arose stiffly,
-and stretched himself.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’m gettin’ tired o’ settin’ here,” he whispered
-to the other. “I’m a-goin’ out to th’ edge o’ th’
-brush. If either o’ them hawsses starts in, yu’ cut
-th’ wind off’n him quick.” And he stole away noiselessly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was barely away ten minutes before he came
-gliding back.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Here comes somebody,” he whispered.
-“Along from th’ sou’west angle, as I figured, too.
-Guess it’s them, all right. If ’tis, I reckon I’ll have
-to jump somethin’ hot off’n th’ brain ’bout gettin’
-’em.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With all their faculties on the stretch, they held
-their breaths and listened intently. Soon their eager
-ears caught the sound of approaching horses and the
-faint creak of leather. Straining their eyes in the
-gloom, they presently made out the forms of two
-riders slowly and cautiously traversing the cleared
-strip that lay between the fence and the line of
-brush.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Reaching the gate they halted, but making no attempt,
-as yet, to dismount or open it, remained lolling
-on their horses and talking in low tones.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Waitin’ for Shorty,” whispered Ellis to Gallagher
-who, smothering a chuckle, whispered back:
-“Some wait!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Even in that dim light they could see that one of
-the riders loomed up a big, bulky shape, in contrast
-to his slighter-appearing companion.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“That’s Big George, all right,” murmured the
-rancher into Benton’s ear as a low, deep bass undertone
-rumbled to them. “Listen ter that voice o’
-his!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ready for emergencies, they quietly watched the
-two dark forms and patiently waited. Their vigil
-was short. An unmistakable, smothered oath came
-to their ears. The guarded, booming growl of the
-bigger man, became more insistent. They saw the
-slighter shape dismount and, presently the “tang”
-of a tightly stretched barbed-wire gate being released
-and drawn aside sounded sharply in the stillness.
-The big shape, still mounted, slowly disappeared
-into the shadows beyond, the smaller one resuming
-his seat in the saddle and waiting at the opening.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Feverishly the Sergeant weighed the situation.
-“Scotty” Robbins—and, without a doubt, it must
-be he—possessed an extraordinarily fast horse, he
-reflected. Even if he </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> able, under the guise of
-Shorty, to range near enough to close, it was not particularly
-easy to pull a good rider like Scotty out of
-the saddle. He would be sure to raise a loud outcry
-at the first attempt, and thus warn Fisk. If he
-once got away, it would be futile to follow him in the
-dark.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The emergency caused a wild thought to flash into
-Benton’s fertile brain. Why not </span><em class="italics">rope</em><span> him? Long
-years of constant practise had rendered him clever
-with a lariat. It was worth trying. The tumble
-would insure Scotty’s partial silence anyway, and
-Gallagher could fix the rest, leaving him free to
-tackle Big George, whom he knew it would be suicidal
-to ever call on to surrender at close range.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Clutching his companion, he whispered tensely:
-“Now they’re split! I’ll have to nail Mister
-Scotty quick, before he gets a chance to make a
-breakaway. That roan o’ his—‘Duster’—can
-run anythin’ around here off’n its laigs. I’m a-goin’
-to try </span><em class="italics">ropin’</em><span> him. Let’s have that rawhide riata o’
-yores—that ‘black-jack’ o’ mine kinks. Get yore
-handkerchief ready, an’ run out an’ cram it into his
-kisser an’ choke th’ —— if he starts in to holler.
-Here, Barney!”—he slipped the latter a pair of
-handcuffs—“hold these. Keep ’em open an’ give
-’em to me when I say. Now look out! Gaffle him
-quick when I jerk him off’n th’ perch.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Leading Shorty’s horse slowly and heedfully back
-through the brush, the way they had come, he
-mounted and, after carefully shaking out a loop to
-his liking in the riata, which he trailed in readiness
-with back-flung hand, he circled around until he
-reached the clear space between the fence and the
-brush.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly his borrowed mount nickered. Scotty
-Robbins started nervously at the sound, but a sigh
-of relief escaped him as the shape of the familiar
-white horse became revealed to his vision.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, Shorty—that yu’?” he called out, in a
-loud, tense undertone.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>There was no answer from the rider, who approached
-near—</span><em class="italics">nearer</em><span>.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly. “Swis-s-s-s,” came the sibilant hiss of
-something through the air, and the loop of a riata
-flopped fairly over his head and shoulders. Taken
-utterly by surprise, he uttered a frightened squawk
-and, with a quick upward thrust of his arm, endeavored
-to free himself of the encumbrance. The
-movement was too late. That single squawk was his
-limit. For the other, wheeling his horse on the instant,
-rammed in the spurs, and the next moment
-there came a terrible jerk that tore his clutching
-hands from the saddle-horn and flung him to the
-ground with all the breath knocked out of his body.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The startled, riderless horse gave a violent jump
-at the unexpected occurrence and tried to run, but
-the trailing lines under its feet causing its head
-to be yanked down severely at every step, from
-customary experience it soon pulled up, snorting
-nervously.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With as much compunction as a cow-puncher who
-drags a calf up to the branding fire, so Ellis swiftly
-trailed the unfortunate Scotty towards the opening
-in the brush. The watchful Gallagher darted noiselessly
-forward and, turning him on his back, slacked
-off the lariat.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton leaped down. “Quick!” he whispered
-fiercely. “Let’s have ’em!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Snatching the handcuffs from the other, he snipped
-them on Scotty’s wrists. The latter was still moaning
-and gasping with the shock of his fall.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yu’ ain’t croaked him, hev yu’, Sargint?” said
-the rancher, in a low voice.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Nah,” snarled the policeman, in a tense whisper.
-“That flop’s jerked th’ wind outa him, that’s all.
-He’ll come to in a second an’ most likely start in to
-bawl, so yu’ll wanta be ready with that handkerchief.
-Say! that’s sure some rope-horse o’ Shorty’s—c’n
-turn on a dollar. See here; look! I’m a-goin’ to
-wait at th’ gate for George. No use for to try an’
-rope </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>—he’s too heavy. I’ll have to fix him
-some other road. He’ll be some handful, too, believe
-me! If I shout for yu’, leave Scotty an’ come
-on th’ dead run. Mind, though, I don’t want no
-shootin’ unless it’s absolutely necessary.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He turned swiftly, and was about to mount again,
-when a sudden thought flashed into his mind.
-Scotty was not wearing white chaps. They would
-be a “dead give away,” he reflected. At close range
-they would show up plainly to Fisk in that light.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The next instant he had unbuckled the waist-strap
-and kicked them off; then, leaving Shorty’s white
-horse, he ran to where his late victim’s mount still
-stood waiting. At his sudden, hasty approach, it
-edged away slightly, and snorted, scenting an unfamiliar
-being; but, impatient, he grabbed at and
-caught one of its trailing lines, and the next minute
-was in the saddle. The stirrups were about an
-equal length to his own, so he felt comfortable
-enough on the beautiful, springy beast. Taking up
-its owner’s previous position at the open gate, he
-waited quietly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Soon there came a slowly gathering, muffled thud
-of many hoofs, and the shadowy blurr of a bunch of
-horses became visible to him as they drew near.
-On they came, and the leader, after suddenly stopping
-and snorting with puffed-out nostrils at the apparition
-of the rider, who remained so motionless
-at the side of the gate, darted through, the others
-speedily following, well strung out by the skilful
-tactics of their driver to avoid jamming at the opening.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>As the last horse passed through the gate, Ellis
-planted himself squarely in the midway, facing the
-rider, who was bringing up the rear. The huge
-form gradually loomed up nearer to him in the
-surrounding gloom.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“H—l! what yu’ waitin’ fur, d—n yu’?” rumbled
-the deep, harsh, low-pitched voice. “Why
-didn’t yu’ head ’em off, west?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton moved forward slowly with raised hand.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Sh-sh!” he hissed warningly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Fisk halted irresolutely. Scotty’s horse fooled
-him completely.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What’s up?” he growled.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis, his powerful right arm swinging free,
-ranged up alongside as if to have speech with the
-other. Then suddenly, and with an uncanny swiftness,
-he silently and viciously struck for the angle
-of the big man’s jaw.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The blow crashed home, and the great body went
-lurching sideways out of the saddle. Like a flash
-the Sergeant swung down off his horse and jumped
-for the rustler, dragging out another pair of handcuffs
-as he did so.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His haste was his undoing, for he got wedged in
-between the frightened, jostling horses and knocked
-sprawling. The next instant a huge, bear-like shape
-that made horrible, beast-like noises in its throat,
-fell upon him and clutched his arms. Frenziedly he
-writhed under that terrible grip.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Barney!” he yelled. “Oh, Bar—!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But his cry changed to a gurgle as the other’s hold
-shifted to his throat. With desperate efforts he
-fought off the choking clasp and, wriggling somehow
-from under his enemy’s smothering weight, scrambled
-with reeling brain to his feet.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Big George had arisen also, snorting and grinding
-his teeth with mad, demoniacal passion, and
-Ellis instinctively guessed that he was fumbling for
-his gun. Entirely forgetful of his own weapon in
-the Berserker rage that possessed him, the Sergeant
-sprang at the giant rustler, hitting out with great
-smashing punches to the jaw and stomach, that sent
-Fisk staggering back and gave him no opportunity
-to draw. With a snarl like a wild beast, he closed
-again with his slighter antagonist and, as the two
-men swayed hither and thither, Benton became dimly
-conscious of Gallagher’s form and voice added to
-the melee.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Stumbling and tripping, the struggling, cursing
-trio came headlong to the ground. Suddenly, with
-a gurgling yell of pain, Fisk released his grip on
-Ellis, who was the under dog and, clutching at his
-own throat, fell backwards; his head, meanwhile,
-giving curious, spasmodic jerks. Uncomprehending,
-but quick to follow up his advantage, the Sergeant
-rolled over upon him; and as he did so, his
-hands, seeking the other’s neck, encountered a rope,
-and he instantly realized what had happened.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Steady, Barney!” he panted. “Ease up a bit.
-Yu’ll choke him.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Roughly, and with the swift celerity of men accustomed
-to throwing and hog-tying steers, they
-trussed up their late formidable antagonist, winding
-the forty-foot riata around him as he kicked and
-raved, with a maze of knots that left him as helpless
-as a child. Then, utterly spent with their exertions,
-they lay back, gasping for air and sweating.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Gradually recovering, they regained their speech
-somewhat.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“G—d!” said Ellis, still breathing heavily,
-“that’s about the worst man-handling I guess I ever
-</span><em class="italics">did</em><span> get! Here! This won’t do, lyin’ on our backs
-all night. Where in h—l’s them bracelets? I
-dropped ’em somewheres around here.” And, arising
-unsteadily, he began to kick amongst the short
-grass.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With the aid of some matches the missing articles
-were eventually found. The two men then turned
-to the huge, bound figure of the rustler, who was
-still cursing and twisting under his bonds. Cautiously,
-loosening one great arm at a time, they
-clasped the steel loops around the enormous wrists.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Should have a gun,” muttered the Sergeant.
-“He was a-tryin’ to draw, all right. Can’t get at
-it, though, while he’s on his back. Here, let’s roll
-him over on his face, Barney, so’s I can get at his
-hip-pocket.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>In about as gentle a fashion as a lumber-jack twisting
-a log with a cant-hook, so the big body was
-heaved over into the desired position, and Ellis commenced
-his investigations. A smothered exclamation
-escaped him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Hullo!” he said, “what’s this? So </span><em class="italics">that’s</em><span> why
-I didn’t get mine, eh?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He struck a match, disclosing by its light the butt
-of a long-barreled Colt’s .45 protruding from the
-rustler’s right hip-pocket. Being unscabbarded the
-wing of the hammer had (providentially, for Benton)
-caught in the torn lining of the pocket and become
-firmly fixed therein.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Eyah!” ejaculated Gallagher. “D’yu’ ever see
-th’ likes o’ that, now? Talk about luck—what!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis carelessly spilled the shells into his hand.
-“How’s Scotty?” he inquired.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, him?—he’s all right,” answered the
-rancher. “He come around while yu’ was a-waitin’
-at th’ gate fur Big George, here. He started in to
-snivel, but I d—d soon shoved th’ handkerchief in
-his trap.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Mighty good job yu’ fixed George as yu’ did,”
-said the Sergeant. “I didn’t wanta shoot, but I
-guess I’d a-had to if yu’ hadn’t come along just
-then. I ain’t heavy enough to rough-an’-tumble it
-with a bull like him. He well-nigh got me that first
-trip. Thank yu’, Barney. Yu’re right there with
-th’ goods, an’ no mistake.... I’ll never forget it.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aw, h—l,” said the other roughly, to hide his
-feeling. “’Twarn’t nothin’, Sargint. I on’y picked
-up th’ first thing as come handy—that riata yu’d
-chucked off’n Scotty. That’s all right.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A string of oaths from the recumbent Fisk aroused
-them.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Hey!” rumbled the growling, bass voice threateningly.
-“Who is yu’ fellers, anyways? What’n
-h—l d’yu’ think yu’re at? Yu’l....</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“One o’ yu’s Barney Gallagher—I know that.
-I’ll fix yu’ fur this, Barney!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis unwound the lariat from around the big
-man’s legs; then, striking another match, held it to
-his own face.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Know </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>, now?” he said. “George—I
-reckon I’ve got yu’! Get up, yu’ big stiff, or I’ll fix
-</span><em class="italics">yu’</em><span>!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A fresh burst of blasphemy greeting his request,
-he picked up the riata again and, dropping a loop
-over the rustler’s head and shoulders, drew it taut.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yu’ go get me one o’ them hawsses, Barney,” he
-said quietly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Gallagher sauntered over to where the two animals
-had halted after their first scare and were placidly
-feeding, and returned with Scotty’s horse. The
-Sergeant mounted and took a turn of the riata
-around the saddle-horn.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Amidst an ominous silence he swung around in
-his seat with shortened leg. “Comin’?” he inquired
-significantly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Big George was no coward, but he was between
-the devil and the deep sea; for in the cold cruelty of
-the policeman’s tones he read aright the signs of a
-pitiless purpose if he still persisted in further obstinacy.
-Sullenly he rolled over onto his knees,
-and awkwardly raised himself on his feet.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“So,” said Ellis approvingly, “that’s better.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Dismounting leisurely, he drew off the loop and
-coiled up the riata.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Get yu’ over to that openin’ in th’ brush, where
-yore partner is,” he continued, in an authoritative,
-menacing voice. “Here!—this way.” And,
-grasping the big man’s shoulder, he guided him over
-to the indicated spot.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>There they found the handcuffed, miserable Scotty.
-He had made no attempt to run away. Naturally
-a timid rogue, the rough handling that he had received
-had knocked whatever little pluck he possessed
-out of him completely. Now he whined like
-a frightened child, blaming Fisk for their mutual
-mischance; but the latter cursed savagely back,
-threatening him in horrid terms, so he ceased his
-lamentations in pure dread of the other’s dominant
-personality, and relapsed into shivering silence.
-Fisk began to raise his voice again.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What d’yu’ figure on chargin’ us with, anyways?”
-he snarled. “Why, yu’ ain’t got nothin’
-on us! We was on’y lookin’ fur one o’ our own
-hawsses, as we thort might—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“George,” said the Sergeant appealingly, with
-up-raised, protesting hand, “don’t! Yu’ gimme a
-pain—honest, yu’ do. I’ll tell yu’ what I’m
-chargin’ yu’ both with, bein’ as yu’re from Missouri,
-an’ want to be shown.” And in no uncertain terms
-he proceeded to do so, and cautioned them.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why didn’t yu’ call on me an’ tell me yore business,
-as yu’re supposed ter do?” blustered Big
-George in injured tones. “I’d a-come with yu’
-peaceable enough. I’ll make a statement ag’in yu’
-two fellers ’bout th’ way I was man-handled.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The policeman uttered a snort of ironical amusement.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“‘Come peaceable’!” he echoed. “Yes, yu’d
-a-come peaceable enough—yu’ve shown that. I’ve
-got th’ marks an th’ feel o’ yore little donnies on my
-throat yet. I don’t bear yu’ no grudge fur that,
-though. Yu’ go ahead, then, with yore statement,
-Mister Bloomin’ Lawyer, an’ I’ll come back at </span><em class="italics">yu’</em><span>
-with a charge of ‘resisting arrest an’ assaultin’ a
-police-officer in th’ lawful execution of his duty,’ fur
-which yu’re liable to get two years extra. ‘Call on
-yu’ an’ tell yu’ my business’ indeed! An’ who’s to
-prove I </span><em class="italics">didn’t</em><span>?” he queried, with an ugly laugh.
-“If yu’ like to call it square why, all right. But if
-yu’ mean actin’ dirty, I’ll act dirty, too—an’ ahead
-o’ yu’ at that.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The force of the other’s argument seemed to impress
-the big rustler considerably, and he remained
-silent.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’ve got yore record from over th’ Line,
-George,” the Sergeant continued. “It’s sure a
-peach.... Five years in th’ State ‘pen’ at Huntsville,
-Texas. Another five in Rawlins, Wyoming.
-An’ three in Sante Fé, New Mexico.... ‘Call on’
-a rough-neck like yu’?” he repeated. “With such
-a record as that? In th’ dark—at close range—with
-a .45 on yore hip? ‘Call on yu’! ‘—an’ bring
-my knittin’. What’d yu’ bin doin’ th’ whiles?
-Shot me dead, most likely, or made some break that’d
-a-forced me to shoot </span><em class="italics">yu’</em><span>—just ’bout th’ last thing
-I wanted to happen. No, Mister George; for reasons
-yu’ll know later, yu’re worth more to me alive
-than dead. ‘Call on yu’!’ Not if I know it. I’d
-trust yu’ ’bout as much as I would a grizzly, a wolf,
-or a ‘diamond-back.’ Yu’ don’t get me like them
-two yu’ stretched down at Los Barancedes. Yep, I
-know all ’bout </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>, too. What’s that? On’y
-‘greasers’? Mebbe—but if th’ Rurales’d a-caught
-yu’ they’d a-surely bumped yu’ off, greasers
-or not. Now, see here; look,” he concluded with a
-harsh ring in his raised voice, “yu’ get me, once an’
-for all. Yu’re a prisoner. I know my duty as a
-Mounted Police-Sergeant, an’ I don’t have to get
-arguin’ th’ point with four-flushin’, tin-horn scum
-like yu’. An’ mind, now, what I said about that
-charge goes if yu’ make one more break, talkin’ back
-to me.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A hasty search of the two men’s pockets, revealing
-nothing more dangerous than a jack-knife belonging
-to Scotty, he turned to Gallagher and bade
-him bring up the horses.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Knot th’ lines ’round th’ horns o’ George’s an’
-Scotty’s,” he said, “an’ string ’em together ’bout
-three foot apart with yore lariat, Barney. I want
-yu’ to trail ’em. I’ll come on behind.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>When all was in readiness he jerked out a curt
-order to the captives, to “Climb aboard an’ hold
-onta th’ jug-handle!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“’Member,” he added warningly. “I’m close behind,
-so don’t be so foolish as to chance anythin’.
-First man that does’ll get hurt—bad.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Then, and for the first time, Big George noticed
-the Sergeant’s mount. Speechless for the moment,
-he stood, pop-eyed, gaping stupidly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Look, look!” he ejaculated to his partner in
-distress, “why, that’s Shorty’s—” his voice failed
-him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Eyah! That’s what put th’ kibosh on me,”
-commiserated poor Scotty feelingly. “He must ha’
-corralled </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>, too, an’ th’ ——’s given us away.
-</span><em class="italics">Must</em><span> have—who else could ha’ put this feller onta
-us?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis, in his own saturnine fashion, chuckled grimly
-at this last remark. “Sure,” he said, “</span><em class="italics">that’s</em><span> what.
-Now, yu’ fellers climb up </span><em class="italics">pronto</em><span>. I ain’t a-goin’ to
-hang around here all night.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>In dismal silence they obeyed resignedly, and
-the grim little procession eventually reached the detachment.
-Wearily they dismounted, and the Sergeant
-drew Gallagher aside.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yu’ go on in first Barney,” he whispered.
-“Light th’ lamp, an’ wake th’ old feller I told yu’
-about. Tell him to go an’ camp in th’ kitchen for
-th’ night—I’ll bring him in some blankets, later. I
-don’t want them fellers to see </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The other, nodding silently, entered the building,
-and soon a light shone through the open door.
-Presently he came out again.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“All set,” he said.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant then proceeded to usher in his prisoners
-and, after leg-ironing them together, with a
-significant gesture handed the key over to Gallagher.
-Seen in the light the two rustlers presented a grotesquely
-dissimilar appearance.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Big George fully justified his soubriquet. Standing
-nearly six feet two, his enormous breadth of
-shoulder and hairy, barrel-like chest which the torn
-shirt revealed seemed, somehow, though, to detract
-from his actual height. His age might have been
-forty or thereabouts. On some physiognomies evil
-passions have imprinted their danger signals unmistakably.
-Fisk’s sinister countenance, with its somber,
-desperate eyes and bushy tangle of coal-black
-beard which hid, one instinctively guessed, a cruel
-mouth and a terrible, animal-like jaw, might to many
-imaginations have found its prototype in the ruthless
-visage of a moss-trooping cattle-reiver of the
-Middle Ages captured, perchance, in some Border
-night foray.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>In strange comparison to </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> formidable personality,
-a comparison which might have been likened to
-that of a coyote shackled to a grizzly bear, stood
-alongside him his slightly-built companion, Scotty.
-He had sandy hair, closely set, shifty blue eyes, and
-a large, loose-lipped mouth with a receding chin.
-It was a cunning, vicious, yet decidedly weak face
-and, noting its defects, one could easily imagine the
-truth of old Hiram Bryan’s previous assertion:
-“Th’ young chap seems ter do as he tells him.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis, with seemingly careless indifference, but
-keeping a wary eye on Big George, removed the
-handcuffs off both men. He then proceeded to relieve
-them of all their belongings, which he placed
-in separate bags that were specially made for that
-purpose, and numbered. Then, after making out an
-itemized list for each, he began to—ostentatiously—count
-out their money. Each of the men possessed
-a small quantity, and this he put in a couple
-of envelopes, marking the amount on the outside.
-Gallagher, leaning against the door, watched the
-performance with curious interest. He had an
-inkling of what was coming. Benton, seating himself,
-beckoned the two forward to the table. Shackled
-together, they awkwardly obeyed. He chose
-Scotty first, and reckoned up the few bills and silver
-belonging to that individual.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Eight dollars and sixty-five cents,” he concluded.
-“That correct?” Scotty nodded. “All right,
-then,” said Ellis, licking up the envelope and pushing
-over a pen. “Look over that list an’ see ’f it’s
-O. K. before yu’ sign for it.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Scotty glanced through the items and nervously
-affixed his signature. The same procedure was gone
-through with Fisk. As the latter finished signing,
-the policeman drew the piece of foolscap towards
-him and, extracting a folded paper from a small
-wallet, leisurely compared the two specimens of
-caligraphy. With a satisfied sigh, he thrust them
-both into his pocket and looked across the table with
-a sinister smile at Big George.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Mister Gordon Brown,” he murmured reflectively.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The two culprits started violently, and stared with
-dismay at the man who had thus outwitted them once
-more. Fisk strove to recover himself. Over his
-perturbed, evil face there crept the blank, lifeless
-expression of duplicity.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Wha’s that?” he inquired innocently.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant’s smile vanished. His face hardened,
-and he began to speak, drawling out his words
-one by one.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’m chargin’ yu’ both,” he said sententiously,
-“with stealin’ a team, wagon, an harness, valued
-at two hundred an’ seventy-five dollars, from one,
-Lloyd Pryce, of Beaver Dam, on th’ sixth o’ June;
-afterwards selling the same as your own property to
-one, Hiram Bryan, on th’ thirteenth o’ th’ same
-month.” Then followed the customary warning.
-“That’s all,” he finished, “an I guess it’s sure
-enough, too.” He eyed them a moment amidst a
-dead silence, and then broke out irritably:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What do th’ likes o’ yu’ want to come over </span><em class="italics">this</em><span>
-Side for—peddling yore dirty work in a decent,
-law-abiding country? Why in h—l couldn’t yu’ stay
-where yu’ both belong? Now, get yu’ away back
-there an’ sit on that bench.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Apathetically they obeyed, with the hopeless resignation
-of men for whom life could hold no more
-surprises, and which, in Fisk’s case, was all the more
-remarkable, considering his previous belligerent attitude.
-It had been on the tip of the policeman’s
-tongue to question him as to what had become of
-the money thus fraudulently obtained but, on second
-thought, he desisted. Some lie or another would be
-the only result of such an inquiry, he reflected; and
-besides, he had warned them. Gambling, he knew,
-was notoriously rife at the Wharnock ranch, which
-was probably the true cause of its disappearance.
-(A correct guess, as was subsequently proved at
-their trial.)</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis looked at his watch. It was just going on
-midnight.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Seems too bad—a-commandeering yu’ for
-all this work, Barney,” he said apologetically, to
-Gallagher.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, I ain’t worryin’ none, Sargint,” the other
-answered. “I got that meat in all right, this
-mornin’; but there’s my team I’d like to turn out
-inter th’ pasture, a cow as should be milked, an’
-some chickens I wanta leave some feed out for. I
-guess yu’ll be wantin’ me inter Sabbano with yu’ th’
-next couple o’ days, eh?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton nodded. “P’r’aps it’s more’n likely somebody’ll
-be around in th’ mornin’,” he said hopefully.
-“An’ then yu’ll be able to run on down an’ do yore
-chores. Say, will yu’ off-saddle an’ fix up th’
-hawsses? Turn them two belonging to these fellers
-out in th’ pasture—there won’t be room for no
-more when yores an’ Shorty’s is in—an’ say, Barney;
-bring in all th’ blankets yu’ can lay yore hands
-on in there.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>In about half an hour the rancher returned, laden
-with a heavy bundle of the aforesaid articles, which
-Ellis shook down on the floor in the corner farthest
-from the door, subtracting two, however, for old
-Bryan in the kitchen.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yu’ll have to bunk down here for th’ night,”
-he remarked curtly to the prisoners. “Yu’ might
-as well get down to it right away, an’ get all th’
-sleep yu’ can, because it’ll be a long trip tomorrow.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Wearily they rolled their coats for pillows, and
-curled themselves down, dormant murder gleaming
-in Fisk’s somber, brooding eyes as he glanced now
-and again at the cell door whence issued the untroubled
-snores of Shorty.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton drew Gallagher on one side. “We’ll
-have to do a ‘night guard’ on these fellers,” he
-whispered. “Guess we’ll do two hours apiece.
-I’ll do th’ first trick an’ hand over th’ watch to yu’
-when I’m through. Yu’ go on inta my room there,
-an’ lie on th’ bed.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly the night dragged through for the tired,
-haggard, unkempt watchers. After waking the Sergeant
-up at eight o’clock, the rancher went out and
-did the stable chores, and when he returned Ellis
-cooked breakfast for all hands—taking good care
-to keep Shorty and old Bryan aloof from their former
-acquaintances.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>As they were finishing the meal there came a
-knock at the door, and on opening it the policeman
-was surprised to see Pryce and two other riders outside.
-Benton closed the door behind him and
-stepped forward. The rancher seemed oppressed
-with a certain shamefacedness, and fidgeted nervously
-with his quirt.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Sargint,” he began. “I guess I kinder riled yu’
-yesterday—actin’ as I did—but I was fair mad,
-an’ I—well, it’s that cursed temper o’ mine gets
-th’ better o’ me. I ask yu’ to try an’ forgit it.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, that’s all right, Pryce,” said Ellis shortly.
-“I’m glad yu’ve come around, anyways, as I was
-just figurin’ how I was goin’ to get word to yu’ to
-come inta Sabbano.” And in a few words he acquainted
-the other with an account of the previous
-night’s adventures.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, yu’ do surprise me!” exclaimed Pryce
-wonderingly and, with rising wrath: “Why, Big
-George, an’ Scotty—I always give ’em th’ run o’
-my place as if they belonged there, whenever they
-come a-ridin’ around. Why! come to think o’ it,
-three days before my outfit was stole, I ’member
-meetin’ up with Scotty in th’ Four-mile coulee; we
-was both lookin’ for strayed stock—an’ I mind
-tellin’ him as me an’ th’ woman figured on drivin’
-inta Sabbano on th’ Thursday, an’ he asked me to
-bring him some Bull-Durham ’baccer from there.
-Guess I forgot it. Anyways, Big George, he was
-around about a week afterwards, an’ listen! He
-had th’ gall to tell th’ woman as how what a dirty
-deal it was to rustle a feller’s outfit, an’ what th’
-parties deserved as did it. Where was them hawsses
-all th’ time, d’yu’ think, Sargint, before they sold ’em
-to th’ old man, I mean?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Staked out in th’ bush somewheres, I guess,”
-said Benton. “They’ve both o’ ’em got touches o’
-rope-burn around th’ fetlocks. Say, who’s yore
-friends, Pryce?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Two fellers as kin swear to my outfit,” replied
-the rancher. “I brought ’em around to see
-it.” And, turning, he introduced the men to the
-Sergeant.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, put yore hawsses up an’ come on in,” said
-Ellis. “Don’t yu’ get a-talkin’ to th’ prisoners
-mind, though,” he added. “Least said, soonest
-mended. We figure on pullin’ out in ’bout an
-hour’s time.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A clatter of wheels disturbed them and, turning,
-they beheld a wagon and team approaching, driven
-by none other than old Bob Tucker. There was
-something irresistibly funny in the excited motions
-of the dissipated, elderly Jehu, as he urged his team
-forward with an unending string of Afrikander expletives,
-which made them all burst out laughing.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Eyck! Eyck! Azi-wan-n! Ari-tsemah! Hamba-ké!</em><span>”
-he bawled.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The policeman stepped forward and held up his
-hand as the sweating horses drew near.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Wana!</em><span>” he shouted. “</span><em class="italics">Wacht-een-bietje!</em><span>
-What’s bitin’ yu’ now, Dad?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Tucker was tremulous and incoherent, but by degrees
-he managed to impart the somewhat belated
-news that “’is ’orses ’ad bin let aht of ’is field” during
-the night, and that “’e ’ad fahnd ’em abaht free
-mile sou’west from ’is plice.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yu better let ’em stay out now, too,” said the
-Sergeant. And he told the old man everything.
-“Yu needn’t be scared of yore bunch no more now.
-What! Yu’ didn’t hear nothin’ in th’ night? Why,
-I reckon we made ’bout as much racket amongst us
-as yu’ do a-shovin’ yore old team along. I guess
-‘Johnny Burke’ put </span><em class="italics">yu’</em><span> to sleep, all right. Yu’d
-better </span><em class="italics">outspan</em><span>, now yu’ve got here, an’ turn yore
-team out in my pasture. We’ll want yu’ along with
-us in Sabbano as a witness. Yu’ can come back with
-Barney Gallagher on Shorty’s hawss. Yu’ can ride
-</span><em class="italics">him</em><span>, all right—he’s quiet.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Fisk looked up brazenly at the new-comers as they
-entered, but Scotty remained with downcast eyes, in
-nervous trepidation as Ellis and his visitors, withdrawing
-into a corner, commenced to converse in
-low tones. Seeing the re-enforcements, Gallagher
-slipped away and departed to his ranch. When
-he returned, he found Pryce’s wagon and team
-standing outside the detachment, with old Hiram
-Bryan occupying the driver’s seat and Tucker
-alongside him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Putting the stable-blankets and some hay in the
-bottom of the box, the Sergeant led forth the handcuffed
-and shackled Fisk and Robbins, and assisted
-them into the wagon. Shorty, for obvious reasons,
-he placed on the former’s own horse, which was led
-by Gallagher. A wise precaution, considering the
-glances of deadly hatred which, from time to time,
-were exchanged between the former and Big George,
-each still firmly believing the other to have turned
-traitor. Ellis brought up the rear on the buckskin,
-with Shorty’s rifle in a carbine sling at the saddle-horn.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was a long, monotonous trip, but nothing untoward
-happened. To avoid stopping anywhere for
-dinner, the Sergeant had previously put in the wagon
-a big pack of cooked food and a jar of water; so,
-halting mid-day, they ate a meal and then, resuming
-their journey, arrived in Sabbano about sundown.
-Tired and dusty, they eventually drew up at the detachment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Sergeant Churchill surveyed the party with astonishment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Hello! Where you klatch-um?” he inquired
-jocosely.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Klatch-um allee same Chellee Kleek,” responded
-Ellis. “Give us a hand, Churchill, an’ let’s get ’em
-inside. Cloakey an’ Wardle—them two J.P.’s of
-yours—are they both in town?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Billy Cloakey is,” answered the other. “But
-Old John Wardle went away to th’ coast a couple o’
-days ago, for a holiday. Don’t know </span><em class="italics">when</em><span> he’ll be
-back. What’s up? Want ’em to hold a prelim’?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” said Benton thoughtfully. “Guess I’ll
-go an’ wire the O.C. just now, to send one o’ the inspectors
-down by the mornin’ train.”</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>As the nine-thirty west-bound train drew up at the
-little station next morning Benton, who was on the
-platform awaiting it expectantly, stepped forward
-and saluted a tallish, blond man, dressed in the
-dark-blue serge uniform of an inspector.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, Sergeant,” greeted the latter, “you’ve
-been doing great business, I hear? But I can’t forget
-you’re the disturber of my rest, all the same,”
-he added, with a wry smile. “Aren’t there any local
-J.P.’s around here who could have handled these
-cases?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis grinned back apologetically. “Sorry to
-have had to drag you out of bed so early, sir,” he
-said. “Yes, there are a couple of resident J.P.’s
-here. Wardle, who runs a general store and the
-post-office, and Cloakey, a real estate man. Wardle’s
-away at the coast just now, so I was forced
-to wire for you. Cloakey’s here, though, to sit with
-you on these cases. Two of the men I’ve arrested
-are particularly tough, and I was anxious to get them
-into the Post by tonight’s train, if possible.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>They turned away from the station, and commenced
-to walk slowly up the main street.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Have they engaged counsel?” pursued Inspector
-Darby. “I didn’t see any one on the train I
-knew, coming up.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No, sir,” answered the Sergeant. “I asked
-them all, individually, last night, before I wired to
-the O.C., but none of them seemed inclined to want
-a lawyer when I explained that this was merely the
-preliminary trial. It was the same about witnesses
-before we left Cherry Creek. Fisk, the ringleader,
-starting in to bluff that: ‘They’d have all the
-“mouthpieces” </span><em class="italics">and</em><span> witnesses they wanted, when the
-</span><em class="italics">real</em><span> trial came off’; so I didn’t bother with them any
-further. But, as a matter of fact, sir, I don’t see
-how they possibly could have any witnesses at all.
-They’ve taken pretty good care of </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> in the crooked
-work they’ve been carrying on. This is Mr. Cloakey
-coming down the street now. I don’t think you’ve
-ever met him, have you, sir?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Inspector replied in the negative, as he gazed
-with well-bred curiosity at his prospective associate
-on the magisterial bench, who was just then drawing
-abreast of them. He beheld a big, cheery-faced,
-somewhat corpulent, man nearing middle age,
-who grasped his hand with genial warmth, as the
-Sergeant, with easy deference, introduced him. A
-few civilities were exchanged, and Ellis led the way
-to the detachment which, on entering, he perceived
-to have suddenly assumed an unwontedly tidy appearance.
-After hurriedly gathering his witnesses,
-he formally opened the court, and the preliminary
-inquiry began.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Shorty’s case was taken first, the local sergeant
-guarding the other two in an inner room, so as to
-be out of hearing. A sullen plea of “Not guilty”
-was entered to the first and second charges. “Guilty”
-to the third—that of “Having a weapon on his
-person when arrested.” Dealt with summarily on
-this minor offense, he was given the option of paying
-a fine or the alternative of a short term of imprisonment
-with hard labor. He chose the latter.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The two principal charges—“Cattle stealing,”
-and “Conspiring to commit an indictable offense”—were
-next proceeded with. Ellis, after being sworn,
-gave his evidence, the strange nature of which—in
-the former charge—relaxed even the imperturbable
-Inspector’s judicial calm, as he and his colleague
-listened with unconcealed interest to the coyote episode,
-and viewed the half-chewed brand which the
-Sergeant fitted into the cut-out in the hide. Benton’s
-testimony in both cases being largely corroborated
-by Gallagher, Shorty was duly committed to stand
-his trial at the next sitting of the Supreme Court.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The case against Fisk and Robbins was much more
-protracted and tedious. Charged jointly, they entered
-a similar plea to their confederate on each
-indictment. From time to time, during the proceedings,
-the Inspector’s casual glance flickered curiously
-from Big George’s battered physiognomy to
-the bruised face and scratched throat of the Sergeant.
-But he was a wily, old, experienced officer
-and, as neither side appeared anxious to enlighten
-him, he drew his own conclusions and wisely refrained
-from comment. Adjourning for lunch, and
-also to view the alleged stolen team and wagon, the
-hearing was resumed again in the afternoon, and
-eventually the two rustlers were committed.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis then drew the attention of the Court to the
-case of old Hiram Bryan, who had shakily given
-his evidence during the trial. All huddled up, the
-aged, decrepit man sat there in silence, his wistful
-gaze wandering from face to face.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Your Worships,” he said, “in the absence of
-all proof of complicity, I have detained this man
-merely under a ‘vagrancy’ charge, so as to insure
-his appearance in this court as an all-important
-witness.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The two justices of the peace nodded understandingly.
-A whispered colloquy ensued between them,
-then they turned and gazed thoughtfully at the
-bowed figure of the broken man who was awaiting
-their will with the apathetic resignation peculiar to
-the aged. Inspector Darby, leaning forward, chin
-resting in hand, presently broke the silence.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Sergeant Benton,” he said, with a slight note of
-irresolution in his voice, “taking into consideration
-the somewhat cruel position that circumstances have
-placed this man in, it is not, of course, our intention
-to press that charge against him. But you no doubt
-realize that it is of vital importance to this last case
-that his evidence be forthcoming at the Supreme
-Court.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis bowed his head in assent. He was prepared
-for this emergency that he had foreseen from
-the beginning.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Your Worships,” he said, in quiet, convincing
-tones, “if you see fit to discharge the accused I will
-hold myself personally responsible for his appearance
-when this case comes up at the next Sessions.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His superior turned again to his fellow justice,
-and they conferred awhile in low tones. This consultation
-ending, the Inspector faced round once
-more.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“All right, Sergeant,” he said.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis motioned to the old man to stand up. Dully
-and awkwardly though the order was obeyed, the
-venerable face was not devoid of a certain dignity
-as its owner raised a pair of honest eyes and gazed
-back unflinchingly at his judges. The Inspector
-cleared his throat.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“There has been no evidence adduced in this case
-to prove that you had any knowledge of these men’s
-alleged criminal actions and intent,” he said, in his
-even, passionless tones. “Rather, it seems that you
-have been their unfortunate victim, for which you
-have this Court’s sympathy. This charge of ‘vagrancy’
-against you will be dismissed ... but you
-understand that your evidence will be required
-again when the Supreme Court sits.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The old man gazed at him vacantly, and the Sergeant
-opened the door.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“All right, Bryan,” he said; “you can go. I
-want to see you later, though.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, clutching his hat in his trembling old hands,
-the other tottered slowly out.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Pryce arose. “Your Worships,” he began imploringly,
-“how ’bout me team an’ wagon? Is there
-any chance of me bein’ able to take ’em back with
-me? I’ve got a tur’ble pile o’ work to do, an’ I
-need ’em bad.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Inspector contemplated the rancher’s anxious
-face thoughtfully a moment or two before replying.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why, yes, Mr. Pryce,” he answered slowly, eyeing
-his confrère, who nodded his concurrence to this
-request. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t. But you
-will have to sign a document undertaking to produce
-them, if required, when this case comes up at the
-next Sessions, you understand.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>All business being now at an end, the Sergeant
-formally closed the court, Inspector Darby and the
-congenial Mr. Cloakey departing to the hotel, and
-Ellis to the depot freight office with Pryce to make
-inquiries respecting the arrival of some police stores
-that were overdue. Finding that the latter had
-come, he arranged with the rancher to haul them
-out to the Cherry Creek detachment on his return
-trip.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With this and various other small duties the time
-passed rapidly, and twilight was descending when
-the Sergeant retraced his steps up the main street
-on his way back to the detachment. He felt jaded
-and weary from lack of sleep and the strain on his
-physical and mental powers during the past forty-eight
-hours, but a certain exultation at the thought of
-all that had been accomplished in that space of time
-buoyed him up.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>In the midst of his somewhat tiredly complacent
-reflections he became aware of a figure approaching
-him unsteadily along the uneven board sidewalk
-whom he recognized as Hiram Bryan.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A sharp gust of wind suddenly deposited the latter’s
-ancient battered hat in the gutter and made
-merry sport with his venerable wisps of hair and
-gray beard. Stooping to recover his headgear, he
-lost his balance and pitched heavily forward. He
-struggled to his feet again with difficulty and leaned
-for a space, all covered with dust, up against the
-wall of the Chinese restaurant, his breath coming
-and going with wheezy asthmatical sobs.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis presently drew up alongside and contemplated
-the unlovely but pitiable spectacle with a
-slightly compassionate grin.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Hello, Dad,” he remarked. “Where d’yu’ get
-it? Been celebratin’ along with Bob Tucker, I
-guess. Well, old gentleman, yu’ got outa that mix-up
-all hunkadory, an’ I was glad of it.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But the old man only rocked perilously on his
-heels, regarded his interlocutor somberly awhile with
-liquor-blurred eyes, and resolutely held his peace.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Momentarily nonplussed at the other’s silence,
-the Sergeant continued in tones half playful, half
-serious:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Come, old Kafoozleum; yu’ ain’t very grateful,
-it seems. Life an’ liberty’s somethin’, anyhow, an’
-it’s more than teams an’ wagons—or booze. For
-now, see here; look! This is th’ straight goods—if
-yu’d ever gone up in th’ Ghost River bush, along
-with them two fellers, either yu’ or th’ nitchie, they’d
-a-seen to it as neither o’ yu’ come out of it alive again
-to, perhaps, get a-talkin’ afterwards. Yu’ can take
-yore oath o’ </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“An’ I hadn’t bin diddled out o’ me outfit,” piped
-old Bryan doggedly, with the hopeless, unreasoning
-obstinacy of the aged. “I’d a-bin away from yu’ all—a-livin’
-quiet on some little ol’ homestead. But—yu’
-corralled me team an’ wagon, lad. I’m little
-better’n a hobo now.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Surprise, not unmixed with amusement at this
-somewhat illogical outburst, rendered Ellis speech-
-less for the moment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“But they </span><em class="italics">wasn’t</em><span> yore team an’ wagon, Dad,” he
-said. “Th’ Law—” And then he stopped, recognizing
-the absurdity of ever attempting to argue
-under such conditions. A great pity, though, for the
-old, broken man, welled up in his heart.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Here, here,” he began, not unkindly. “Don’t
-get a-talkin’ foolish, now, Hiram.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And his hand sought the other’s shoulder. But
-Bryan avoided his touch.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Nay,” he said thickly. “Let be, lad. I’m an
-old man, an’—an’ draw fast to homeward. I’ll
-soon be in a good place, God grant—an’ out o’
-reach o’ all yore laws an’ contraptions. Let be, lad.
-Yu’ve played h—l wi’ me, amongst yu’.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The words of rough condolence died in the Sergeant’s
-throat. He saw, through misty eyes, the
-poor old derelict, fuddled with whiskey and sorrow,
-go shambling on his way with bowed gray head.
-And the sight was more than he could stand. With
-a few strides he overtook the aged Hiram and, in
-spite of his feeble resistance, gently, but firmly,
-turned him around.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’ve been a-figurin’ this business out—right
-since we come in from Cherry Creek,” he said huskily.
-“Yu’re comin’ along with us on th’ train to-night,
-Dad, when we take them prisoners down.
-An’ I’m a-goin’ to get yu’ into a certain place that
-I know of, where yu’ll be looked after good for th’
-rest o’ yore days—Father Rouleau’s Home for the
-aged an’ infirm. Besides—I want yu’ somewheres
-handy when that case comes off.”</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xi">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER XI</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“My object all sublime</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>I shall achieve in time—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>To let the punishment fit the crime;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>The punishment fit the crime.”</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">The Mikado</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>The three rustlers were tried at the following
-Criminal Assizes held about two
-months later.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Fisk, obtaining money from some unknown
-source, was the only one of the trio represented by
-counsel, retaining that eminent criminal lawyer—Denis
-Ryan—to defend him. Robbins’ craven
-heart failing him at the eleventh hour, he pleaded
-guilty to all charges, and threw himself unreservedly
-upon the mercy of the Court. Shorty, actuated
-more by motives of spite against Big George, whom
-he still firmly believed to have betrayed him, entered
-a similar plea. Brooding over his former accomplice’s
-imaginary perfidy during his past two
-months in the guardroom awaiting trial, the one
-thought—to “get even” with his enemy—had
-gradually become an obsession, which finally culminated
-in a deliberate intention to reverse his original
-plea on arraignment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>These two totally unexpected occurrences combined
-to render Fisk’s case hopeless. His counsel,
-with characteristic ability, put up a brilliant and spirited
-defense for his huge, ill-favored client; but it
-was a forlorn hope, and he knew it long before the
-jury returned with their verdict of “Guilty.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>One of the most decisive factors in the case had
-been the evidence of the old Indian—“Roll-in-the-Mud”—who,
-examined through an interpreter,
-stated that Fisk had approached him with an offer of
-a five-dollar bill and one of Tucker’s best colts, in
-return for his help in driving the bunch of horses
-at night up the difficult bush trail in the Ghost River
-district.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Sentence in each case was deferred until three days
-later, when the prisoners were taken to court again.
-Big George and Shorty, whose previous criminal
-records told heavily against them, were very severely
-dealt with by a judge whose lack of sympathy
-with stock rustlers was proverbial. The former,
-proven to be the ringleader and instigator of the
-crimes, received a sentence of ten years’ penal servitude;
-the latter, seven. Scotty, being that it was, as
-far as could be ascertained, his first offense, and
-who, furthermore, was adjudged to have been the
-tool of Fisk and Shorty, drew the comparatively
-lenient sentence of four years.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The two first named took the announcement of
-their punishment with the silent, dogged indifference
-of men to whom durance vile was no new thing;
-but Scotty burst out into loud lamentations and weeping
-as the prisoners were quickly ushered downstairs
-to the court cells underneath.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Filled with pardonable elation at the successful
-termination of his cases, Benton left the courthouse
-and leisurely betook his way back to the Post. All
-the genial </span><em class="italics">bonhomie</em><span> that his many-sided nature could
-command now asserted itself, and he strolled along,
-humming a cheery lilt, his heart merry within him.
-Still in this enviable frame of mind, he departed later
-in the day for his detachment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>That night, standing on a corner of the main street
-in Sabbano, idly smoking and watching the faint reflection
-of a far-distant prairie fire, he heard himself
-hailed and, turning, greeted a man who sauntered
-slowly across the street to him with a familiarity that
-bespoke long acquaintance.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Hello, Charley,” he said. “What’s blown
-</span><em class="italics">you</em><span> into this jerkwater burg?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The other struck a match and relit his cigar before
-replying, disclosing a gaunt, lined, intellectual face
-with a grim mouth, which was somewhat accentuated
-by a close-cropped, grizzled military mustache.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Case,” he answered laconically. “Say, Ellis,
-where’s Churchill? He’s stationed here, isn’t he?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton nodded. “Yes,” he said; “but he’s been
-in the Post, now, for three days—waitin’ for a
-case of his to come off at Supreme Court. He was
-there when I came away this afternoon. Why?
-What d’you want </span><em class="italics">him</em><span> for?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“M-m! Oh, nothing in particular,” his companion
-mumbled. “Just wondered where he was,
-that’s all.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The newcomer deserves a more especial mention,
-for his history was a sad, though not an uncommon
-one. Charles Musgrave, M.D., had begun life as
-a clever young house-surgeon attached to a famous
-London hospital. Possessing extraordinary daring
-ability, inspired by a genuine love for his profession,
-he gradually obtained a reputation that caused him
-to be regarded as one of the foremost exponents
-of surgery of his day. Then it was—unluckily
-for him—at the zenith of his fame, that he became
-enamored of lovely Blanche Farrel—then a nurse
-in St. John’s Hospital.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was the old, time-worn, sordid story that the
-world is aweary of—his wife’s education and morality
-proved to be inferior to her beauty. After enduring
-two soul-wracking years of jealousy and humiliation
-as the result of the unfortunate misalliance
-that he had contracted, he obtained a divorce, and,
-abandoning his career, went to South Africa, where
-he strove to efface the bitter memories of his past
-misery amidst the vast whirlpool of cosmopolitan
-adventurers that thronged the Rand.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Still retaining the skill and love of his profession
-that had once created him a power amongst his fellow-men,
-he rapidly acquired an immense practise
-in Johannesburg. This, coupled with various lucky
-mining speculations, enabled him in a few years to
-amass a considerable fortune which, alas, was
-doomed, however, to be swept away, along with
-thousands of others, at the commencement of the
-great war. Declining, then, the offer of an important
-position at the Wynberg base-hospital, he became
-the principal medical officer of the Irregular
-Horse, which Ellis had joined—composed mainly
-of his fellow-refugees of the Rand. Possessing
-much personal bravery, he served throughout the war
-with great gallantry, exhibiting on many occasions
-such an utter disregard for his own life whilst attending
-wounded men under fire, that frequently
-caused him to be mentioned in despatches.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The climax of that long-protracted, bitter struggle,
-leaving him an impoverished man once more, he forsook
-the country that had engulfed his second fortune
-and prospects. Still resolutely turning his face
-away from England, he came to Western Canada,
-where his ability in his profession speedily raised
-him again in the medical world. Here, working
-hard and drinking obstinately, he led an existence
-which, if it was not commendable, was only in accord
-with that of many others whom Fate and the
-vicissitudes of life have entreated thus unkindly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Most men can, and invariably do, recover from
-the first benumbing effects of misfortune, but—they
-cannot </span><em class="italics">forget</em><span>. In appearance the doctor was a
-rather distinguished-looking man, tall and powerfully-built,
-with closely cropped iron-gray hair, and
-a complexion that was bronzed and roughened by
-years of exposure to a tropical sun. That worn,
-haggard face of his, though, told a real tale. The
-furrows there had been plowed by an enduring bitterness,
-and though only in his forty-fifth year,
-he looked considerably older.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Exchanging a few desultory remarks, they strolled
-on down the sidewalk and, passing the station, drew
-near to the last of the scattered houses. During
-their progress Ellis had been aware of light footsteps
-following them and, glancing back once or
-twice, had noticed a woman approaching. Soon she
-caught up to them and, thinking that she was about
-to pass, he drew in close to Musgrave to give her
-room to get by. Presently she came alongside and,
-to his utter surprise, a sweet, girlish voice said, coaxingly:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why, hello, Church’; coming in?” And a
-hand caught his that hung at his side and gave it a
-gentle squeeze.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>They were just within the glare of one of the
-few street lamps that the ill-lighted little town
-boasted, and opposite the gate of the end cottage.
-He beheld a girl, whose age he might have computed
-at anything between eighteen and twenty-five—tall,
-and voluptuously formed, with thick masses
-of dark hair that curled in little wavy tendrils around
-a broad, low, white forehead with level brows. Her
-complexion still retained the soft bloom of that of
-a healthy country girl, and a pair of bewitching dark-brown
-eyes flashed into his with a fluttering self-consciousness
-that told him many things.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Musgrave took a step or two forward and, turning,
-contemplated the scene with lazy curiosity, not
-unmixed with amusement. Sheer astonishment tied
-Benton’s tongue for an instant, then:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Sorry, sister,” he said gravely. “Guess you’ve
-got the wrong number. Better ring up again.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The girl uttered a little gasping giggle of surprise.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh,” she said. “I thought you were the </span><em class="italics">other</em><span>
-policeman.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She fidgeted a little at his silent regard and
-clicked the gate open, continuing:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well—you look a pretty nice boy!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But the words, though light and brazen in themselves,
-rang false, and betrayed the novice. She
-began to flinch under the steady stare of those calm,
-watchful, passionless eyes and, returning his look
-with a slight air of defiance, twisted and untwisted
-her gloves with a little nervous laugh.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis hesitated. He was no Joseph—this was
-Churchill’s district, and </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> look-out, was his first
-impulsive reflection. But something—something
-that was, perhaps, </span><em class="italics">childish</em><span>, in the girl’s great dark
-eyes and winsome face, in which there still remained
-a trace of her lost innocence and her self-conscious
-voice and manner, held him awhile longer, motionless.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, as the man continued to stand there with
-bent head, curiously still, as if carved in stone, just
-looking—and </span><em class="italics">looking</em><span>—in deep, thoughtful silence
-at the wanton young beauty who sought to
-tempt him, the filmy, transparent outlines of </span><em class="italics">another</em><span>
-face, it seemed to him, rose up alongside hers.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The sweetly grave, spiritual face of a girl, long
-since dead, whose love had once been his—the very
-incarnation of womanly purity.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” he mused, “that was it—that was it begad!
-it was the </span><em class="italics">eyes</em><span> ... they were very, very like
-poor Eileen’s.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Presently he cleared his throat and began to speak.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“See here; look, Mandy,” he said soberly. “If
-I was doing my duty properly I should just take you
-down to the police station, lock you up, an’ put a
-charge against you that a certain section of the
-Criminal Code prescribes for your offense. D’you
-get me?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She shivered and paled a little, and her great eyes
-opened wide as she searched his face beseechingly,
-as if trying to discern whether he was in earnest.
-There was no banter in his tones, so she came
-closer and, catching his hand again, looked into his
-face with a forlorn sort of smile that was at once
-both roguish and pitiful.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“D’you mean that, or are you on’y just foolin’,
-Policeman?” she implored. “You wouldn’t arrest
-me, would you?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant contemplated her thoughtfully.
-And a great pity arose in him, for the fingers that
-clasped his own were deadly cold, and the cheap
-finery that she was clad in was but a miserable protection
-against the chilly wind that had sprung up.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now listen,” he said. “</span><em class="italics">You</em><span> haven’t been in
-business long, my girl. You can’t fool me. Quit it,
-kid, before you get in </span><em class="italics">real</em><span> wrong. Get back to th’
-farm again.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She stared at him with open-eyed astonishment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why!” she gasped, “who told you I come from
-a farm?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed quietly. “Just a sayin’ sister,” he
-said. “Seems I wasn’t far out, eh? Where </span><em class="italics">do</em><span>
-you come from, then?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But her lips only trembled and closed tightly, as
-she regarded him now steadfastly, in dogged silence.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now, see here; look,” Ellis went on slowly.
-“If it’s because you’re up against it an’ want money,
-why—” He drew out a five-dollar bill from his
-pocket and closed her fingers gently over it.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The kind ring in his voice unnerved her. She
-looked at him vaguely for a few seconds with heaving
-bosom and glistening, tear-filled eyes, then suddenly
-burst out into passionate sobbing.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh!” she wailed between the convulsive spasms
-of emotion that shook her. “Oh, my God! D’you
-think I’d be doin’ this if we didn’t! No, no! Oh,
-dear!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant’s brows contracted with a sudden,
-sharp, lowering glance.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Who’s </span><em class="italics">we</em><span>?” he inquired with significant interest.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With a few long-drawn, shuddering sobs, like a
-child that has been scolded for crying, she quieted
-down curiously at his question and, presently pulling
-out a handkerchief, began to dry her eyes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He reiterated his query, but she only stared back
-at him with dumb, though not defiant, obstinacy, as
-before.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“You stayin’ </span><em class="italics">here</em><span>?” He indicated the cottage.
-She nodded. He turned on his heel and prepared
-to depart.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“You go in then, kid; you’re cold,” he said.
-“You be a good girl, now, an’ don’t get chippyin’
-round no more or you’ll be gettin’ into trouble.
-Good night.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, leaving her gazing after him wistfully, he
-rejoined the waiting doctor, and they moved off
-slowly back the way they had come.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Moral reformer, eh! for a change?” Musgrave
-remarked with a flippant, gibing laugh.
-“Well, it isn’t worse than many of your vagaries.
-We shall have you entering Holy Orders next, I
-suppose?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>In his heart the savage old cynic approved; but,
-for the life of him, he could not check the sneer.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis made no reply. It was a habit of his very
-often not to answer Charley, and the latter did not
-mind it in the least.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now listen,” pursued Musgrave. “I’ll tell </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>
-something now. I’ve been here for two days.
-Langley, who owns the hotel here, is an old patient
-of mine. He wired me to come down an’ see a
-man who was ill in his place—chap asked him to
-get a doctor. Rattray, the medico here, is in hospital
-himself, undergoing an operation for appendicitis,
-so I came along. Now, I’m a specialist. I
-don’t undervalue </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> professional services in the
-least, I can assure you. Quit that, years ago. I
-have my fee. Those that don’t care to pay it are
-welcome to get somebody else—that’s all there’s to
-it. Now—coming back to this case in hand—naturally,
-after having to come all the way down here,
-one of the first things I did was to sound Langley
-as to my prospective patient’s financial stability.
-May sound mercenary, or merciless, whichever you
-please—to </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>—but, as I said before—Well,
-Langley said he was all right, as far as he knew.
-Seemed to have plenty of money—has paid up
-square enough during the week or so he’s been in
-the hotel—was an absolute stranger to him—registered
-as John Walters, from Toronto—said he’d
-been sick for a couple of days. So I went upstairs
-to have a look at him. He looks to me like a clerk,
-counter-jumper—town-bred, anyway—might be
-anything—I don’t know what his line in life is—never
-asked him. He must have divined that I’d
-been questioning Langley about him, for one of the
-first things he said to me was: ‘Money’s all right,
-Doctor. Oh, I’ve got plenty of “dough.”’ And
-he fumbles under the bedclothes and shakes three or
-four </span><em class="italics">hundred</em><span>-dollar bills at me. </span><em class="italics">Hundred-dollar</em><span>
-ones, mind you! Afterwards, when I was examining
-him, I found he was wearing a leather money-belt
-next to his skin—you know—the kind we used
-to have in South Africa, with pockets all round. I
-don’t know, of course, how much he’s got in it; but
-he hangs on to it mighty close, and seems very nervous
-and suspicious. He’s a pretty sick man, anyway.
-I may have to rush him into town to one
-of the hospitals, and operate on him right away.
-I’m just waiting for a certain symptom to show up.
-Now, here’s one of the queerest parts about this
-business. The morning after he’d put up at the
-hotel—so Langley tells me—</span><em class="italics">this girl</em><span> came here,
-along with some chap. Whether they’re man and
-wife, or not, I couldn’t say; they’re living together
-</span><em class="italics">as</em><span> such, at all events, and they’ve rented that cottage.
-What the fellow’s name is I don’t know, or
-what his business here is, either. He dresses fairly
-well, and he’s got good looks—of a certain type.
-But it sure is a d—d bad face, all the same. Typical
-‘white-slaver’s.’ Well, yesterday afternoon I went
-upstairs to see my patient. I’d just got to the landing
-where his room is, when I heard somebody talking
-to him—in precious loud, ugly tones, too. I
-heard this: ‘Yer thought yer could “shake” me—hidin’
-away in this burg, eh? Now, look a-here.
-I’m nigh broke—you’re flush. If yer don’t come
-across quick, I’m a-goin’ to start somethin’. I’ve
-bin here close on a week now, an’ I ain’t a-goin’ to
-wait no longer!’</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I promptly opened the door and stepped in, and
-here was my gentleman, standing by the side of Walters’
-bed. The expression on his mug was anything
-but sweet, and as for Walters—he was all in—collapsed,
-absolutely. ‘What’s the trouble?’ I
-said. ‘Oh, nothin’,’ says Mr. Man, kind of off-hand;
-‘just a-talkin’ over a little business matter
-with my friend, here.’ ‘Well, now look here,’ I
-said; ‘I’m the doctor attending this man. He isn’t
-in a fit condition to talk business to anybody, especially
-</span><em class="italics">your</em><span> kind. Just </span><em class="italics">look</em><span> at him, man! Now,
-you get straight out of here—right now. I’m not
-going to have you worrying this man in the condition
-that he’s in; and remember, you’re to stay out—for
-good. You keep away from here altogether, or I’ll
-d—d soon take steps to make you. D’you hear?’
-He looked at me in a precious mean, ugly sort of
-way, but he slunk out, and he hasn’t been near Walters
-since. That’s </span><em class="italics">why</em><span> I wanted Churchill. Looks
-now as if </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> might know something, eh?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis uttered a short, mirthless laugh. “That’s
-what,” he answered succinctly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>They walked on in silence for awhile.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“It’s like this,” resumed Musgrave. “I’m
-purely and simply in the position of a doctor called in
-to see a patient. As long as I’m remunerated for
-my professional services it’s none of my business to
-go poking about, prying into other people’s affairs,
-and I don’t intend to in this case. That’s up to </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>.
-But, all the same, the whole thing seems a kind of
-a rum go, and I thought I’d better mention it to one
-of you. Whatever’s this fellow, Walters, going
-around with all this money cached on him for? keeping
-indoors always, religiously, at night—so Langley
-says ... of no occupation—never speaking
-to anybody if he can help it ... as mum as you
-please.... Never letting on to Langley, or any
-one, that he knew this other chap, either. Then
-this talk I overheard in his bedroom ... proper
-blackmail. The plot thickens—ahem! I think
-we’d better temporarily assume the respective rôles
-of Sherlock Holmes and his pal, Dr. Watson, to
-clear up this dark mystery,” he concluded, with a
-melodramatic chuckle.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant nodded, with a thoughtful grin.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“M-m, yes! it sure does look kind of queer,” he
-murmured. “Guess I’ll take a </span><em class="italics">dekho</em><span> at both these
-ginks tomorrow, Charley, before I pull out to the
-Creek. That girl, for instance. You can take your
-oath she’s just travelin’ with that chap. Been enticed
-away from some little country burg—you
-know the ways and means these brutes have o’ working
-these things? Once away from home they’re
-done for, and scared to go back. He must be just
-usin’ her as a decoy-duck for some rotten business
-best known to himself, but you could see how green
-she was. Churchill—what? the d—d fool—riskin’
-his job—gossipy one-horse </span><em class="italics">dorp</em><span> like this!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>They had reached the door of the hotel.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, I’m going to turn in,” said the doctor.
-“Sure you won’t come in and have a drink?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis shook his head. “No, thanks, Charley,”
-he said; “I’ll enjoy one better tomorrow. See you
-then. Good night, old man.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And he walked slowly on towards the detachment.
-Half an hour later he threw aside the paper that he
-had been reading and, yawning wearily, prepared
-to go to bed. Suddenly, there came to him the remembrance
-of some mail matter that he had brought
-with him from the Post, and which he had neglected
-to look at as yet. Mechanically he felt in his pockets.
-No!—it wasn’t there—must have left it in
-his red serge when he changed into his stable-jacket.
-His surmise was correct, and presently he began to
-tear the envelopes open, glancing carelessly through
-their various contents. Well, well, the General
-Orders for the current month, his shoeing account
-returned with a small mistake in it, a peremptory
-request—obviously dictated from the Quartermaster’s
-Store—anent having his Monthly Returns
-despatched at a somewhat earlier date than had
-hitherto been his habit ... nothing very </span><em class="italics">important</em><span>,
-there. What did Dudley mean? Hello!
-What was </span><em class="italics">this</em><span>? He had drawn from the last envelope
-a typewritten copy of a circular. He stared
-vaguely at the headlines of the notice, which ran:</span></p>
-<div class="align-None container">
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="center line"><span>WANTED FOR MURDER AND BURGLARY</span></div>
-<div class="center line"><span>$500 REWARD</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<!-- -->
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>The above amount will be paid to any one giving information
-that will lead to the arrest of either of the
-below-described men, who, on the night of August 28th,
-190— in company with one—Joseph Lipinski, alias
-George Winters—since arrested in Seattle—shot and
-killed, John Hetherington, night-watchman of the Carter-Marchmont
-Trust Building, who surprised them in
-the act of robbing the safe in the Company’s offices, in
-New Axminster, B. C.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Description. No. 1. Henry Shapiro (alias Harvey
-Stone, alias Nathan Porter). Known to the Chicago
-police as “Harry the Mack.” Age 37; 5 ft. 11 in.;
-about 190 lbs.; black hair; has peculiar light gray eyes,
-with slight cast in the left one; complexion, swarthy;
-clean shaved; is of Jewish descent; nationality, American;—</span></p>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Followed details of dress and general habits. Concluding:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Lipinski, in a statement that he has made, alleges that
-it was Shapiro who fired the shot which killed Hetherington.
-Was a former prison mate of Shapiro’s in
-Elmira Penitentiary, where the latter was serving a
-term of five years for safe-blowing. This man has a
-criminal record also, he says, in Chicago, and has served
-a three-year term in Joliet, Ill., on a charge of white
-slavery. We are endeavoring to obtain his photo, Bertillon
-measurements, and finger-print classification from
-one of these institutions.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>No. 2. Herbert Wilks. Age 26; 5 ft. 8 or 9; about
-165 lbs.; blue eyes; brown hair; complexion, fresh;
-clean shaved; nationality, Canadian; dressed in a dark-blue
-serge suit; gray Fedora hat, with black band round
-it; brown boots. This man is a former employee of the
-Trust Co., and was discharged by them two days previous
-to the date on which these crimes were committed.
-As far as is known, he has no record and has never been
-in trouble before. Has the reputation of being quite a
-sport. Possesses a jaunty air, drinks heavily, is a cigarette
-fiend, carries a cane, and is said to be fond of
-women. Comes from Hamilton, Ont., and is believed
-to have relatives there. Lipinski states that Wilks must
-have the bulk of the money (approximately $2,000.00)
-that was stolen, as he had quit them earlier, leaving the
-safe open, in which they only found $150.00. That
-they were in the act of splitting this when they were
-surprised by the watchman. That they separated and
-ran different ways immediately after the murder, being
-fired at by the patrolman on the beat, who had heard
-the shot. Has not seen either of them since, and has
-no idea which way they went. Had often seen Shapiro
-in company with a woman, whom he did not know.
-The greater part of the money stolen is in the shape of
-Bank of Commerce bills of large denominations, which
-they may have difficulty in changing.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Wire all information to</span></p>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span class="small-caps">John Mason</span><span>,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><em class="italics">Chief Constable</em><span>.</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Below, ran the usual injunctions:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Members of Line, or other detachments are notified
-to keep a sharp look-out for these men, who may have
-come East.</span></p>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>(</span><em class="italics">Signed</em><span>) </span><span class="small-caps">R. B. Bargrave</span><span>, </span><em class="italics">Supt.</em></div>
-<div class="line"><em class="italics">Officer Commanding L. Divn.</em></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>For some few seconds the Sergeant sat perfectly
-motionless, failing at first to grasp the full significance
-of what he had just read, the typed characters
-of the circular appearing but a mere indistinct blur
-to his abstracted eyes. Then, slowly but surely, the
-conviction grew in his mind that here—</span><em class="italics">here</em><span> in his
-hand, he held, undoubtedly, the very key to the mystery
-that Musgrave had confided to him that night.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, I’ll be ——!” he ejaculated softly to
-himself. He looked again at the date of the crime.
-“Ten days ago. Holy Doodle! they must have
-been a bloomin’ long time makin’ up their minds to
-wire East, or I’d have got this long ago. S’pose
-they figured they had ’em corralled all hunkadory in
-the town somewhere ... couldn’t get away ...
-or, when they nailed this Lipinski man in Seattle,
-that they’d all beat it the same road. Ten days ... an’
-this chap—Walters, as he calls himself—has
-been here for a little over a week. That fits in
-O. K.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He sprang to his feet and buckled on his side-arms
-beneath his stable-jacket; then, putting on
-his hat, he extinguished the light and slipped
-stealthily out of the detachment into the dark of
-the night.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Here goes for that five hundred ‘bucks,’” he
-muttered grimly. “No use wastin’ time over Walters.
-</span><em class="italics">He</em><span> can’t run away. Let’s have a </span><em class="italics">dekho</em><span> at
-this Mr. Shapiro—if it </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> him. Why in thunder
-should they choose </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> place of all places to get
-playin’ hide-an’-seek in? Well, I guess we’ll know
-later.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Entering the lane that lay at the rear of the buildings
-paralleling the main street, he strode swiftly
-and silently back towards the cottage where the girl
-had informed him she was staying. As he approached
-it there came through the stillness a smothered
-murmur of voices and, presently the low-pitched,
-guarded tones of a man’s growling bass, mixed with
-a woman’s sobbing, reached his ears.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Quickening his pace, he noiselessly drew near the
-scene of the altercation, the thick carpet of dust
-effectually deadening his footsteps. There, under
-the light of the lamp, he beheld the figures of a man
-and a woman, the latter unmistakably the young
-would-be “Delilah” who had accosted him earlier
-in the evening.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“How come you to make such a —— fool break
-as that?” came the man’s voice, fierce and indistinct
-with passion. “</span><em class="italics">He</em><span> ain’t th’ cop that’s here reg’lar.
-He’s easy, </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> guy. This feller, he </span><em class="italics">knows</em><span> me—beat
-me up one time—him. I—— By G—d! I
-believe you were a-puttin’ him wise!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The girl’s weeping response was inaudible to the
-listening policeman, but it only seemed to add fresh
-fuel to her persecutor’s rage for, with an inarticulate
-snarl, he struck at her savagely and, with a
-piteous, heart-broken cry, she reeled back from the
-cruel blow.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The sight maddened Ellis and, with an angry
-shout, he sprang forward. The man, who hitherto
-had been standing with his back to the light, now
-swung sharply around at the interruption. In a
-flash the Sergeant recognized that face again. It
-was “</span><em class="italics">Harry</em><span>”—the man who had robbed the
-woman on the train, and whom he had thrashed so
-severely some two months earlier.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Like lightning both men’s hands streaked to their
-hips, but the yeggman was the quicker of the two.
-The girl saw his action and, with a hasty movement,
-flung herself between the combatants with raised,
-protesting hands.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No, no, no! Harry, </span><em class="italics">don’t</em><span>!” she screamed.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But, simultaneous with her cry, came the flash and
-crack of his gun. Staggering with the shock of the
-bullet, she clutched at her bosom in stupid bewilderment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, God!” she gasped in her agony. “Oh,
-bub-bub-bub!” And, swaying with a side-long
-lurch, she fell heavily to the ground.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For a few seconds the two men remained motionless,
-stupefied at the tragedy that had been enacted
-before their eyes. Then the policeman’s gun spoke
-and, with a groaning blasphemy, Harry reeled back,
-dangling a shattered left wrist that he had flung up
-instinctively to shield his head.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Again and again the Sergeant pressed the trigger,
-but a succession of empty clicks were all that followed.
-With dismay he then recollected expending
-four fruitless long-range shots at a coyote that
-evening whilst exercising Johnny, and neglecting to
-reload.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was at the other’s mercy. But that individual,
-seemingly demoralized by the excruciating torture
-of his wound, failed to profit by his advantage.
-Still clutching his gun, he wheeled around and dashed
-for the railroad track.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>In feverish haste Ellis ejected the spent shells,
-dragged forth three more cartridges and, thrusting
-them into the cylinder of his weapon, with the practised
-flip of the finished gun-fighter, flung two more
-shots after the fugitive, who had recoiled from his
-sudden contact with the barbed-wire fence that ran
-alongside the track.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>At the second report Harry pitched forward on
-his face, but the next moment he had rolled under
-the lower strand of the wire, arisen to his feet again
-and limped away in the gloom, heading for the station.
-Benton’s first fierce impulse was to follow in
-immediate pursuit, but a low moan of intense half-conscious
-agony from the stricken girl checked him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Can’t get far winged like that, anyway,” he
-muttered. “I’ll get him later.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Stooping down, he gently gathered up the inanimate
-body in his powerful arms and strode towards
-the cottage with his burden. The head, with
-its soft mass of curly dark hair, lolling over helplessly
-against his shoulder like a tired child’s, whilst
-the bright arterial blood pumped in quick jets from
-the bullet wound in her breast all down the front of
-his stable-jacket.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With an impatient thrust of his knee, he burst
-open the gate and, climbing the few steps, entered
-through the open door into the front room, where
-a lamp was burning. Here he deposited the girl
-on a low couch.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Attracted by the shots, soon there came the sounds
-of hurrying feet and the murmur of many voices
-and, presently, a small concourse of excited and
-curious people began to gather in front of the cottage
-where the light was showing through the open
-door. The Sergeant stepped forward hastily.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Quick!” he said. “One of you run up to the
-hotel and get Dr. Musgrave; he’s staying there.
-Quick! By G—d! This girl’s been shot, and she’s
-bleedin’ to death!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, in response to his appeal, two figures immediately
-detached themselves from the gathering and
-sped away. Turning back to the couch, he kneeled
-down and, ripping open the girl’s flimsy blouse,
-rolled his handkerchief into a pad and pressed it
-tightly over the wound. She lay quite still, with
-closed eyes, groaning occasionally with the deadly
-pain that wracked her, a bloody foam bubbling up
-from her lips at each gasping breath. Soon Musgrave
-came bursting in.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why, what’s this?” he said breathlessly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“That fellow—with her,” answered Ellis disjointedly.
-“Wanted for murder—B.C.—went to
-arrest him—shot at me—hit her—instead— Can’t
-tell you now— Here, Charley!—look after
-her—goin’ after him—not far away—hit bad.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was on his feet as he spoke, swiftly ramming
-fresh shells into his gun; and, with one last look
-at the unconscious face, he jumped down the steps
-and started for the station via the direction that
-Harry had taken. A few of the more adventurous
-spirits attempted to follow him but he peremptorily
-ordered them back. Catching sight, though, of a
-face that he knew, he hastily beckoned its owner
-aside.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“See here; look, Wardle!” he said, in a tense
-undertone to the kindly-faced old man who officiated
-as postmaster in the little town. “I’m glad you’re
-here. There’s a girl in the house there, who’s been
-shot up pretty bad, an’ I think it’s all up with her.”
-He rapidly explained the situation to the other,
-adding: “You’re a J.P.... Don’t attempt to
-worry her if she’s too far gone, remember, but try
-an’ get a deposition off her if the doctor will allow
-it, an’ get him an’ somebody else to witness it....
-Can’t stop now—got to get after this chap, quick!”
-And he hurried away.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A man swinging a railroad lamp came forward
-and accosted him, whom he recognized as the station
-agent.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Look, now, Carey,” he said significantly, in response
-to the other’s excited offer of help. “Come,
-if you want to. But I tell you flat—you’re takin’
-a big chance of gettin’ hurt. Douse that cursed
-light,” he added irritably, “or you’ll be makin’ a
-proper mark of us.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The other promptly obeyed, and presently they
-reached the beginning of the platform. The Sergeant
-produced a small electric torch.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Should be some blood to trail him by,” he muttered.
-“I got him twice. Hello! here it is!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Pressing the button at intervals, they followed
-the faint dribbles and spots along the ties. Clear
-past the station offices and freight shed, it led them,
-right to the shelving terminus of the platform, where
-they brought up a dozen or so yards beyond when the
-blood marks suddenly ceased.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What place is that?” whispered the policeman,
-indicating a small structure whose shadowy outlines
-loomed up vaguely against the surrounding gloom.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Section men’s hut,” the agent whispered back.
-“There’s only some tools and a handcar in there.
-It’s locked, though, and Petersen, the section boss,
-has the key. He can’t get in there. Let’s go on a
-piece—we may pick it up again.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>They crept cautiously on for a short distance, but
-the sanguinary trail failed to reappear.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No use goin’ any farther,” protested Ellis, in
-a low tone. “P’r’aps he’s doubled back an’ cached
-himself under the platform.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>They retraced their steps and soon picked up the
-blood spots again. Benton, gun in hand, halted
-irresolutely in front of the section hut.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“You </span><em class="italics">sure</em><span> it’s locked, Carey?” he said.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The other moved ahead impatiently. “Yes,
-</span><em class="italics">sure</em><span>” he answered. “It’s no good lookin’ there,
-Sergeant—let’s rout around the platform.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A sudden impulse, though, moved Ellis to step
-over to the shed. Grasping the door handle, he
-pulled on it. To his surprise it swung open.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The next instant there came a rattle as of tools
-being displaced as a dark form arose. Followed
-a blinding spurt of flame and a deafening report
-right, it seemed, in his very face. Instinctively, he
-winced away, with a burning pain in his left ear and,
-ducking down, with deadly calculation he fired upwards
-twice as he did so.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The detonation in the galvanized-iron structure
-was terrific. When the echoes gradually died away,
-a curious scraping, threshing noise, monotonous in
-its regularity, succeeded, coupled with a horrid,
-long-drawn, liquid gurgle, as of water issuing from
-the neck of an inverted bottle.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>These ominous sounds, too, eventually ceased,
-and the silence of the night settled over all once
-more. Carey clutched Benton with a shiver, and
-his teeth chattered like castanets.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Is—is he—dead—d’you think?” he quavered.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Don’t know,” returned Benton in a low voice.
-“Sufferin’ Moses! my </span><em class="italics">ear’s</em><span> hurtin’ me somethin’
-fierce. I’m bleedin’ like a stuck pig. Keep you well
-to the side, there, when I flash the light in. You
-never know what’s goin’ to come off.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Cautiously he pressed the spring of his torch and,
-as the little halo of radiance penetrated the obscurity,
-he gave a quick, searching look. With a satisfied
-sigh, he released the button and turned in the darkness
-to his companion.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“All right, Carey,” he said reassuringly. “You
-can light up again now.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With shaking fingers, the other produced a match
-and, relighting his lamp, cast its rays into the opening.
-He beheld a sight that was to remain in his
-memory for many a day. With a cry of horror, he
-tumbled back, the lantern falling from his nerveless
-grasp.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, my God!” he cried. “Oh, Lord!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis stooped and picked up the smoking globe.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Here, here!” he remonstrated callously.
-“What’s wrong with you, Carey? Get a hold of
-yourself, man. You’re a peach to want to come
-man-hunting, you are. Have you never seen a stiff
-before? Get in an’ have a good look at everythin’,
-because you’ll most likely be an important witness
-at the inquest.... O-oh!” he broke off, with a
-sharp intake of his breath, “my ear’s givin’ me
-h—l. Lend me your handkerchief.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Thus urged, and trembling violently with horror
-and repugnance, the agent nerved himself again to
-the ordeal. Raising the lamp once more, he gazed
-with morbid fascination at the ominous heap that
-but a short while back had been a strong, hot-blooded
-man.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With the handkerchief pressed to his wound, and
-cursing softly with the pain, the Sergeant jerked his
-gun back into its holster again. Stepping forward,
-he inspected his handiwork critically. The two
-heavy, smashing bullets of the Colt’s .45, fired at
-close range, had done their deadly work effectively.
-One, penetrating a little beneath the left eye, had
-blown away a portion of the skull in its exit, whilst
-the other, tearing its passage through the thick, bull
-throat, had turned the place into a veritable shambles.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Still clutched in the stiffened right hand was a
-huge, unfamiliar type of pistol, which weapon the
-policeman examined with curious interest, coming—as
-it nearly had—to ending </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> earthly existence.
-The terrible simplicity of the creed that was his in
-such matters forbade his evincing the slightest vestige
-of pity or remorse for his dead enemy. The vision
-of a pale, pinched-faced young mother, with a
-little child, seemed to arise before his eyes, and the
-heart-broken cry of a stricken girl still rang in his
-ears and hardened his heart.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Blast you!” he muttered savagely. “You only
-got what was comin’ to you. It was me or you, this
-trip, an’ no error. You had an even break, anyway.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The agent turned aside, shaking in every limb.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Let’s get!” he said, with an oath. “Ugh!
-I can’t stand it no longer. I guess sights and happenings
-like this ain’t nothing to you, Sergeant ...
-you’re used to it in your line of business. Besides,
-you’ve been through a war and must have killed
-and seen lots of fellers killed before. It don’t turn
-you up like it does me. Come away, for the love of
-God. By Gosh! but I could have sworn that place
-was locked. Petersen must have forgot to snap
-the padlock. I’ve got a duplicate key here. Guess
-I’d better lock everything up tight, eh? and give
-you the key.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” said Ellis. “And give Petersen strict
-orders not to open it up again till I say so. Nothing’s
-got to be touched till the coroner gives the
-word. Old Corbett acts in this district. Wonder
-whether he’s at his place?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, he’s there, all right,” said Carey. “But
-he’s sick—all crippled up with rheumatism. His
-daughter—you know, the one that rides—she was
-in today and I was talking to her.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“That settles it,” said Benton. “I’m goin’ to
-wire the O.C. now, an’ I’ll get him to send a coroner
-down by the mornin’ train. Let’s have that key
-for a bit. I want the doctor to have a look at this
-body.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Some twenty minutes later he returned to the cottage.
-Musgrave and old Wardle met him on the
-threshold, and the former, with a significant gesture
-enjoining silence, softly closed the door. With the
-light of a strange exultation showing in his haggard
-face and bloodshot eyes, he proceeded to acquaint
-them with all that had happened. They listened
-with eager curiosity.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Whew!—some shave, all right,” remarked the
-doctor. “Here, Ellis! Let’s fix up that ear of
-yours. You’re bleeding like the deuce, and that
-tunic of yours is soaked.” And, as Benton removed
-the handkerchief. “Why, man, it’s clipped the lobe
-clean away! Come on in, then, but be as quiet as
-you can—I’ve put her on the bed in the other room.
-I’ve given her a strong morphine injection to ease
-the pain. It’ll keep her quiet for a time.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He turned, with his hand on the doorknob, but
-Ellis caught him by the arm.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Charley,” he said, with a catch in his voice.
-“That girl saved me. Is she—is there any—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No,” answered the doctor quietly. “That
-slug’s gone slap through the right lung and out under
-the shoulder. She’s done for, though she may
-live for a few hours. Must have been an awful
-high-pressure gun that he used.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“It sure was,” said the Sergeant. “It was one
-of those German ‘Lugers.’ You’ll see it still
-clutched in his fist when you go down there.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Eh, laad!” said the kindly old postmaster, who
-originally hailed from Yorkshire. “But she’s rare
-an’ weak ... an’ th’ doctor don’t think as ’er’ll
-last th’ night out. It’s nobbut o’ a deposition she
-were able to gie us, th’ poor lass, for ’er could scarcelins
-speak, an’ I had’na th’ heart to worrit ’er. She
-says as ’ow ’er name’s Elsie Baxter, an’ that yon
-man o’ ’ers as she calls ’Arry—shot at yo’ but ’it
-’er, instead, accidental, when she got betune ye.
-She wouldn’t tell me where ’er coom fra’, tho’, or
-what </span><em class="italics">’is</em><span> other name be. Fair frightened, ’er is, ’bout
-’im bein’ ketched, an’ ’er keeps on a-cryin’ out ’is
-name real pitiful-like, an’ sayin’ as ’e did’na </span><em class="italics">mean</em><span>
-to shoot ’er. I ’ad ’Arry Langley, from th’ ’otel, in
-there, an’ ’im an’ th’ doctor’s witnessed it. Did
-yo’ say yo’ gaffled ’un, laad?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant, with his brooding mind still obsessed
-with the memory of his recent conflict, regarded
-his questioner absently, with a livid, scowling
-face.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Eyah!” he snarled darkly, with an ugly oath,
-and with grimly unconscious humor imitating the
-other’s dialect: “A gaffled ’un, all right, Dad!—nobbled
-’un proper. A knaws ’un’s name, too, an’
-all ’bout ’un!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Quickly and deftly, the doctor dressed the Sergeant’s
-torn ear, bandaging the wound with an antiseptic
-pad against it. Whilst this was in progress,
-they conversed in low tones.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why, come to think of it,” said Musgrave, “I
-remember now seeing an account of that business in
-the paper, at the time. Lord! I was slow—not
-to have tumbled before. I wouldn’t make much of
-a sleuth, I’m afraid.” He carefully replaced his
-surgical apparatus in his bag. “Didn’t you see
-it?” he inquired.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis shrugged indifferently. “Lord, no!” he
-said. “Why, I go from a month on end and never
-</span><em class="italics">see</em><span> a paper—out there at the ‘Creek.’ Besides,
-we don’t go by the </span><em class="italics">papers</em><span>. I was officially notified
-in this case. ’Course, I’m not forgettin’ if it hadn’t
-been for you tellin’ me what you did, I’d never been
-able to connect up.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was silent for a moment or two. “How
-about the other chap, Charley? Walters—Wilks—or
-whatever his name is,” he asked, a trifle anxiously.
-“I suppose it’ll be safe enough to leave
-</span><em class="italics">him</em><span> till tomorrow?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, sure,” said the doctor reassuringly. “I
-don’t think he’s exactly able to ‘take up his bed and
-walk’ </span><em class="italics">just</em><span> yet. I’ll keep an eye on </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>. There!
-that’ll do for the time. I’ll fix it up again tomorrow
-for you.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With a weary yawn, Benton arose from the chair
-on which he had been sitting during the ear-dressing
-process.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Here’s the key of that section house, Charley,”
-he said, handing the other over that article. “Take
-a run on down there, will you? an’ have a look at
-that body. I’ll stay an’ watch this poor kid. An’
-say! I can’t very well wear </span><em class="italics">this</em><span>!”—he indicated
-his ensanguined stable-jacket—“you might bring me
-back my serge, old man! It’s lying on the bed in
-the detachment.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“All right. I’ll go now,” said Musgrave. “Remember,”
-he added, “the kindest thing you can do
-is to keep her as quiet as possible. I’ve done all
-that I’m medically able to do, but it’s a parson </span><em class="italics">she</em><span>
-needs—more than a doctor. Aren’t there any
-here?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” said Ellis listlessly, “on Sundays.
-There’s denominations galore represented </span><em class="italics">then</em><span>.
-This is a sanctimonious little ‘</span><em class="italics">dorp</em><span>.’ The Church
-of England man is the only one resident here, though.
-He’s away in town—attending the Church Convention.
-I was talking to him this morning when I
-was going to court, an’ he said he didn’t expect to
-come back till the day after tomorrow.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, she’s sleeping now,” said the doctor.
-“I’ve stopped the external bleeding and given her
-a strong morphine injection, as I think I told you.
-Give her all the water she wants to drink, if she
-wakes up, but beyond getting the necessary particulars
-regarding her, I wouldn’t encourage her to talk.
-Come on, Wardle! We’ll go on down to this
-place.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The two men tip-toed out softly and closed the
-door, whilst the Sergeant, carefully stripping off his
-blood-stained stable-jacket, entered the bedroom
-noiselessly, and seated himself at the side of the
-suffering girl. Still under the influence of the powerful
-drug, she was dozing peacefully and, but for
-an occasional gurgle of blood in her throat, her
-breathing was considerably less labored.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Long and earnestly he gazed at the face of the
-girl who had, undoubtedly, saved his life, though at
-the forfeit of her own. The features were already
-pinched and drawn, and the rich color of the cheeks
-had faded to a dull, ashen gray, save where two
-hectic spots indicated her rising temperature. For,
-upon that countenance, the Angel of Death had set
-his dread seal, and passed upon his way.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Oppressed by deep pity and many troubled
-thoughts, Ellis sank into a gloomy reverie from
-which he was aroused by Musgrave returning—alone.
-Arising quietly, he obeyed the other’s silent
-motion and followed him outside.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well,” he said listlessly, slipping on the red
-serge which his companion handed to him, “did you
-see him, Charley?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Musgrave glanced curiously at the powerful, still
-profile of the man before him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” he said slowly. And even </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> trained
-nerves could not suppress a slight shudder at the
-remembrance. “Poor old Wardle’s gone home
-feeling pretty sick, I can tell you ... an’ I don’t
-wonder. You’re some bad man with a gun, Ellis.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant, with mind sunk in a fit of abstraction,
-eyed him absently.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Eyah,” he said. “I guess I put the sign on him,
-all right.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The doctor scrutinized the drawn, blood-stained
-face closely.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Look here,” he said kindly. “You look a bit
-strapped, old man. You go on home to bed now.
-</span><em class="italics">I’ll</em><span> stop with the girl!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The considerate words seemed to arouse the other
-strangely.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No, by ——!” he said vehemently, with a sobbing
-oath. “I’m goin’ to stay till—till—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His voice broke. Recovering himself, he continued,
-with an effort:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“It’s the least I can do. You can sleep on that
-couch in the front room. I’ll call you if she’s in bad
-pain.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“All right—all right!” answered Musgrave
-gently and, gripping the Sergeant’s shoulder with a
-sympathetic pressure, “we won’t fight over it, old
-man. I understand. Call me if I’m needed. I
-don’t think your ‘guard’ will be very long now,
-though.”</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xii">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER XII</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>On those poor frail sisters who’ve fallen low,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>And who suffer and die through the sins of men—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>More sinned against, than sinning, I trow—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Shew Thy Mercy—Thy Pity—Lord Christ, Amen.</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">Court of Common Pleas</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Wearily, and with a throbbing pain in
-his torn ear, Ellis resumed his vigil. An
-hour slowly passed. Two hours. Suddenly
-a restless movement from the bed aroused
-him from the dreamy lethargy into which he had
-sunk, and he gazed into the wide-open, bewildered
-eyes of the awakened girl that were regarding him
-wonderingly through their long lashes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“How did I come here?” she articulated painfully.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I carried you in,” he said. “You’ve been in
-here for nearly three hours now.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Her lips moved soundlessly, and she remained with
-puckered forehead, as if striving to collect her
-thoughts.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Then who were those other men?” she said in
-a hoarse whisper.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, one was the postmaster, and there was
-the man that owns the hotel. The other man was
-the doctor. It was he who fixed you up.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Then, for the first time, she seemed to notice his
-bandaged head. With a little cry, she struggled
-feebly to raise herself, eyeing him fearfully the while.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Where’s Harry?” she gasped tensely.
-“You’ve been hurt, like me. Did you an’ him get
-shootin’ at each other again? Oh, tell me. Where
-is he?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He strove to soothe her and allay her agitation,
-but without avail.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Please! oh, please, Policeman!” she sobbed.
-“Don’t arrest him. Let him go! He didn’t </span><em class="italics">mean</em><span>
-to hurt me.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Her continued piteous pleading moved him
-greatly. Puzzled at this attitude towards the man
-who had ruined and maltreated her, Ellis inquired
-gently:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The great imploring dark eyes became like two
-twin stars, seeming to search his very soul, as a
-wave of ineffable forgiving pity and devotion glorified
-the face of the dying girl.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Because—I—I—” she faltered.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The simplicity of her implied admission struck
-him dumb with surprise for a moment, and he stared
-at her in stupefied amazement.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What?” he almost shouted. “You still love
-that chap after—after—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Speech failed him and he could only continue to
-look at her in awed wonder.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Hard as they may find it to observe other precepts
-of the Great Master, this one, at least, most
-women have practised easily and naturally for over
-nineteen hundred years—“Forgive, until seventy
-times seven.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The acts of some of these—how they warred
-with their husbands and paramours and were
-worsted; how they provoked the presiding magistrate
-and stultified the attesting policeman by obstinately
-ignoring their injuries written legibly in red,
-and black, and blue; how they interceded with many
-sobs for the aggressor—are they not written in
-the book of the chronicles of every police court in
-the world?</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>This propensity leads them into scrapes, it is true,
-for our world in its wisdom will always take advantage
-of such weaknesses. Perhaps the next will
-make them some amends.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The bright, fever-lit eyes never left Benton’s face,
-and two tears rolled down her sunken cheeks as she
-nodded silently in answer to his incredulous query.
-Such an expression, indeed, might the Covenanter’s
-widow have worn, as she looked into the ruthless
-countenance of Graham of Claverhouse and begged
-for the life of her only son. And such it is, also,
-that makes Guido’s famous picture of Beatrice Cenci
-one of the saddest paintings on earth.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">That</em><span> look was almost more than the Sergeant
-could endure, and he hastily turned his head away
-to hide the hot, blinding tears that sprang to his
-eyes. There seemed something very terrible, just
-then, in the pathetic working of his stern face, as
-the strong man strove to hide his emotion.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Diamonds and pearls,” he whispered brokenly
-to himself; “diamonds and pearls.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And </span><em class="italics">this</em><span>—love such as </span><em class="italics">this</em><span>, had the dead man
-gained, then spurned brutally from him, and cast
-away.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Soul—to the last, could still triumph over
-the poor broken Body, and </span><em class="italics">Love</em><span>—glorious,
-all-forgiving Love—arise, victorious and conquering;
-through life—through death—aye—beyond the
-grave itself—to the very Resurrection Morn.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The sands of the poor sufferer’s existence were
-running out fast now. Benton shuddered when he
-thought of the horror that would surely come into
-those shining, steadfast eyes if she were told whose
-blood was upon his hands. Why disturb the brief
-space that was allotted to her by revealing the awful
-truth? It would be a crime, he reflected. He lied,
-bravely and whole-heartedly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No,” he said. “I haven’t arrested him, my girl.
-I was chasin’ after him, an’ scratched one of my ears
-pretty bad climbin’ through that barbed-wire fence
-alongside the track. A way-freight goin’ East
-pulled through just about five minutes after, an’ I
-guess he must have made his get-away on that.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She drank in his words with an eagerness that
-tortured his conscience sorely, but a quick, joyful
-light dawned on her face as his reward, and she
-sank back on the pillows again with a little weary,
-gratified sigh of relief. The strain had been too
-much for her, however, and she began to choke pitifully,
-as a fresh gush of blood bubbled up from her
-lips and stained her white breast. He slipped an
-arm under her head and, tenderly as a woman might
-have done, he soothed and ministered to her paroxysm.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For some few minutes she lay in a sort of stupor,
-and he watched her anxiously, undecided whether or
-not to awaken Musgrave; but presently she revived
-a little and her breathing became easier. The flow
-of blood from her mouth had abated and, as she
-looked up and saw him supporting her, the pale lips
-relaxed into a faint semblance of their old roguish
-smile; when her face and bosom had been gently
-sponged, and she had drunk a glass of water, she
-spoke—almost in a whisper, but quite calmly and
-clearly:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“You ca-can’t—arrest me—now!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The unutterable pathos of her pitiful little jest
-nearly broke him down then but, with a struggle, he
-raised his eyes and, with a twisted mouth, smiled
-valiantly back at her.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What did—that—doctor—say?” she asked
-slowly. “Does he—think—I’ll—die? I feel
-so—very—weak—and—tired ... and my—chest—hurts
-me—terrible.... I think I—must
-be—dying.... Am I?... Look—at me—Policeman!...
-tell me.... Did he—say—I’m not—afraid....”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Elsie, girl,” he said unsteadily. “Elsie,
-you’re—” He stopped and, choking a little,
-reached out a slightly shaking hand to smooth back
-the dark curly hair from her white forehead.
-“You’re going home, girl—you’re going home!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She gazed at him searchingly for a few seconds,
-then turned her head away listlessly, with a sharp
-intake of her breath. There was a long silence
-which was broken by Ellis.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Elsie Baxter </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> your name, all right, isn’t it?”
-he asked gently.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded, watching his face closely meanwhile.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“How old are you?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Twenty-two,” she whispered.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What nationality?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“American.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What part of the States do you come from, my
-girl?” he continued. “Where are your parents—if
-you have any—or your friends?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But his inquiries failed to elicit any response, and
-all he got was the same passive look of mute entreaty
-which she had exhibited to all his queries on
-the occasion of their first meeting.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Come,” he whispered coaxingly. “Why won’t
-you tell me? You ought to.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She sighed as if she were exhausted. “What’s
-the—use?” she murmured. “My real mother—is—dead—an’—an’—my
-father—an’ my step-mother—were
-unkind—to me—so I ran—away....”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She met his perplexed look with a faint, weary
-smile, and cuddled his hand beseechingly. “That’s
-all,” she said. “There.... I can’t—tell you
-any—more—now.... Best—thing—if they
-never—hear.... I’m—going soon—where—I
-don’t—know.” She ceased, panting for breath.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He desisted then, for the doctor’s final injunctions
-came to his remembrance with a pang of regret. He
-had encouraged her to talk too much already.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Aye—what </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> the use, he reflected. There
-was a world of meaning in her answer—too great
-to be misunderstood. Time, it is true, had wrought
-curious changes in his wandering life and ways, and
-both memory and conscience had, to a certain extent,
-become oblivious to many things; but, in the former
-faculty, assuredly one period in his history was not
-included. With a bitter hatred which not even the
-lapse of over twenty years could quench, he recalled
-only too well, the pale, sneering face of the virago
-who had usurped the place of his own gentle mother,
-and whose animosity had eventually been the means
-of driving </span><em class="italics">him</em><span> from home, also.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” he mused. This poor dying waif and he
-probably had much in common.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The girl lay quiet for a long while, and a cheap
-American alarm clock ticked sharply in the stillness.
-Presently she turned her face to him again and regarded
-him earnestly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Will—you please—say a—prayer?” she articulated
-painfully. And, as he hesitated and looked
-at her in dumb misery: “Won’t you?... even—even—for—such
-as me?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A terrible revulsion of feeling shook his strong
-frame. Who was he, that he should dare to presume
-to pray for the dying? Fallen sinner though
-she might be—what was </span><em class="italics">he</em><span>?... And a vision
-of his own reckless and irresponsible past seemed to
-rise up before him accusingly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Please,” the weak voice pleaded.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With bowed head and bursting heart he falteringly
-repeated the only prayer that he remembered—“The
-Lord’s”—and, with its “Amen,” a solemn,
-awesome quiet descended upon the little room.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And then—the end came very quickly. She
-turned her head and looked at him kindly. Her
-eyes were alight with a great, dreamy happiness, and
-in their depths he beheld the radiant glory that, passing
-all human understanding, heralds the near approach
-of death.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Kiss me,” she whispered faintly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>All his manhood sorely shaken, he stooped to
-bestow the caress. Only once in that last quiet minute
-of life—for death-struggle there was none—the
-white lips moved; and the Sergeant, bending down
-his ear, caught what may have been an appeal to
-the Father’s mercy, but Ellis always believed it was
-a man’s name.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She sighed once or twice wearily, gasped a little
-and, leaning her head back with a slight shiver, the
-poor girl’s spirit went forth into the Night.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
-</div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>For a long time Benton never stirred. A sense
-of utter desolation, he knew not why, seemed to
-gather all around him. Inheriting from his mother
-a strongly impressionable nature, he was always
-chivalrously predisposed towards women and, somehow,
-complete stranger to him though the unfortunate
-waif was, the inexpressible pathos of her lonely,
-tragic death stirred all his being with a great, compassionate
-pity.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he broke down and burst out sobbing,
-with the deep, convulsive emotion terrible to witness
-in a strong man; then, throwing his arms about the
-dead girl, he fell to his knees and, gazing imploringly
-into her quiet face, held her tightly, as if that
-firm clasp would hold her back one step on the road
-along which the messengers of God had beckoned
-her.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Would those with whom he was a byword for hard
-sternness of character have known him </span><em class="italics">then</em><span>?</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The light of the lamp sank lower, flickered a little,
-and was gone. Worn out, mentally and bodily, the
-bowed head of the tired, kneeling watcher gradually
-drooped forward until it rested upon the bosom of
-the motionless form. The still face had settled into
-the serene, peaceful grandeur of the death-calm.
-Beautiful she had been in life, aye, but never so beautiful
-as now.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Then, to the exhausted, sleeping man, there came
-a wondrous dream, and in it, behold! she appeared
-unto him again in all the glory of her youth, innocence,
-and beauty, clad in white and glistening raiment,
-with her arms outstretched to him from afar
-on High.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, in her great, dark eyes, he seemed to see
-shining the love and pity of Mary Magdalene—she
-whom He denied not, but said: “</span><em class="italics">Her sins which
-are many are forgiven, for she loved much; but to
-whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.</em><span>”</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xiii">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER XIII</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>So—peacefully, slept the un-shrouded dead,</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>Beyond caring whether they stoned or kissed her;</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>Till a Ministering Angel came instead,</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>In the guise of a Salvation Army Sister.</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span class="small-caps">Poor “Skagway Kate”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Brightly, ah, so brightly, the rays of the
-early morning sun flooded that sad room
-with their golden radiance, lighting up with
-a veritable halo of glory the still, peaceful face of
-one for whom the weary troubles and pain of this
-world had ceased.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The door opened softly and Musgrave, standing
-in its aperture, surveyed a scene that awed and shook
-even </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> cynical nature to its very depths. For some
-minutes he remained with bowed head, perfectly motionless,
-a picture of silent sympathy then, tip-toeing
-noiselessly forward, he shook the still sleeping Benton
-gently, and a haggard, drawn face was slowly
-upturned to his.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Come, old man,” he said quietly. “Rouse yourself.
-You can do no more good here now.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, stiff and cold, the Sergeant arose and followed
-him out like a child.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
-</div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Wearily he returned to the detachment and, with
-mechanical instinct, tidied up the place. Then, duly
-attending scrupulously to his personal toilet, he went
-down to the hotel, where he forced himself to swallow
-a few mouthfuls of food and a cup of coffee.
-Later he repaired to the room of Musgrave’s patient
-and, after subjecting that unfortunate individual
-to a somewhat lengthy examination, he formally
-placed him under arrest. These duties despatched,
-he departed with a heavy heart to the station to
-await the incoming west-bound train, which was over
-an hour late.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Gradually, under the influence of his surroundings
-and the fresh morning air, mind and body, from
-constant habit, returned, naturally, to their normal
-state of soldierly alertness. To all outward appearance
-he became once more the composed, practical
-guardian of the Law, resourceful and ready for any
-duty that claimed him. Presently he was joined by
-the station agent, who greeted him with a sort of
-miserable heartiness.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, Sergeant,” he began, “and how are we
-this morning? Some doings last night, eh? What
-about that ear of yours? You look as if you’d sure
-come through a rough house, with that bandage on.
-What’s the other feller look like?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis did not answer for a moment, but a faint
-grin overspread his haggard face as he regarded
-the other’s tell-tale countenance attentively.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">We</em><span>!” he echoed, with quiet derision. “I’m
-afraid </span><em class="italics">we</em><span> doesn’t feel very well this nice mornin’,
-Carey. Ear stings like the devil. As for the
-other fellow—you know what </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> looks like, all
-right. You look as if you were just doin’ a ‘walk-march’
-to your </span><em class="italics">own</em><span> funeral. You’d better keep a
-flask on your hip for emergencies, as you an’ me’ll
-be the star witnesses when this inquest comes off.
-I’m expectin’ the coroner an’ one of our inspectors
-on this train.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, I don’t think I’ll fall off the perch just yet,”
-said the agent, with a sheepish smile. “I’ve got the
-other key off Petersen,” he continued significantly.
-“One or two of the curious ones came nosing around,
-but I warned ’em off the course, quick. Hello! here
-she comes. Well, I’ll see you later, Sergeant.”
-And he hurried away about his duties.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Inspector Purvis, a dark, heavy-set, middle-aged
-man, wearing the South African and Riel Rebellion
-campaign ribbons, acknowledged Benton’s salute
-punctiliously and, turning, introduced his companion.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“This is Dr. Sampson, the coroner, Sergeant Benton,”
-he said.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And Ellis shook hands with a tall, gray-mustached,
-pleasant-faced man, whom he knew very well by
-sight. The latter glanced sharply at the policeman’s
-bandaged head.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Looks as if you’d been in the wars, Sergeant,”
-he said. “What’s happened you?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis drew them on one side and briefly related his
-story, to which they listened with lively interest.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, well,” said the Inspector at its conclusion.
-“We’ll wait till this train pulls out, and let
-these people get away, and then we’ll go on down to
-this section hut and view this body.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ten minutes later they stood in front of the shed,
-and Ellis unlocked the door and flung it open. An
-angry buzz greeted them, as their presence disturbed
-a hideous swarm of blue-bottle flies. Sharp exclamations
-of loathing and disgust escaped the two
-newcomers who, after gazing for a few seconds at
-the </span><em class="italics">thing</em><span> that had once been a man, proceeded to
-note all details carefully, with the callous precision
-of men hardened to such sights.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Once the Inspector’s glance traveled curiously,
-from the shattered head of the corpse, to the stern,
-bandaged face of the man beside him, who had caused
-this terrible transformation.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Some shootin’!” he observed, in a low voice,
-to the coroner.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed to be rather a doubtful compliment,
-though, under the circumstances, so the latter only
-nodded nonchalantly, and refrained from comment
-himself.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“There’s absolutely no doubt about this being
-Shapiro, the man that’s wanted, sir,” said Ellis. “I
-saw the other man, Wilks, who’s lying sick up at
-the hotel, this morning. He confirms this man’s
-identity, and admits everything. I’ll take you up
-to see him later.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the coroner straightened himself up.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“All right!” he said. “I guess I’m through
-here, if you are, Inspector. Let’s go and view the
-other body at the house the Sergeant speaks of.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>They turned to go, and Ellis locked the door
-again.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, Benton!” said the Inspector, in a low tone,
-beckoning him aside. “Just a minute.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With a slightly uncomfortable presentiment of
-what was coming, the former obeyed.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>There was a moment’s silence, while the Inspector
-eyed him keenly, but not unkindly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I understand this isn’t the first man you’ve shot
-and killed in the execution of your duty, Sergeant,
-since you’ve been in this Division,” he said.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis bowed his head in assent.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, in that case,” continued the Inspector
-briskly, “your previous experience has no doubt
-enlightened you, then, in regard to the customary
-procedure in such cases. You are, of course, aware
-that the finding of a coroner’s jury, while it may
-acquit you of all blame in causing a person’s death,
-doesn’t necessarily preclude any subsequent inquiry
-that the </span><em class="italics">Crown</em><span> may see fit to institute later, although
-it would naturally carry considerable weight with it
-in such an eventuality....”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He paused for a moment, and then went on in the
-slightly sententious tones of one who knows he has
-an unpleasant duty to perform:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’ve the O.C.’s orders to place you under
-‘open’ arrest, and take you back to the Post with
-me. There will be a formal charge laid against
-you, and you will have to face an inquiry in regard
-to this man’s death. Of course, I shall remain here
-until these inquests, etc., are over. That is all, Sergeant.
-Now we’ll go on down to this other place.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With a strange, indefinable feeling of reluctance,
-he conducted them thither. Awed, and filled with
-compassion at what they beheld, they halted irresolutely,
-a moment, on the threshold, and bared their
-heads reverently in the presence of the dead. Then,
-entering the chamber, they made a brief examination
-which, to Benton, standing idly there in his dumb
-misery, seemed almost in the light of a sacrilege.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A whispered colloquy ensued between them for a
-few minutes, and then they gently withdrew and
-closed the door, Ellis following them out to receive
-his instructions.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Inspector,” began the coroner, “I would have
-liked, if possible, to have had this double inquest
-held here; but there’s not enough room, I’m afraid.
-Could you—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis, with ready tact, broke in quietly: “I think
-I can arrange that, all right, doctor. I know the
-man who rents this cottage next door. He’s the
-day operator at the station. His wife’s away just
-now, so he’s staying with Mr. Carey, the station
-agent. There wouldn’t be any difficulty about obtaining
-the use of </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> premises to hold the inquiry in,
-and I could have the other body removed down here,
-so as to utilize this place as the morgue.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Ah, very well,” said the coroner, with evident
-relief; “that will be entirely satisfactory. There’s
-just one other thing I would like you to see to, Sergeant.
-Kindly get some woman to attend to the
-necessary arrangements in this last case—lay her
-out decently, and so on—you understand?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“And afterwards,” supplemented the Inspector,
-“of course give Dr. Sampson all the assistance you
-can in empanelling a jury. Why, hello, doctor!”
-he exclaimed, turning to Musgrave, who had just
-joined them. “</span><em class="italics">You</em><span> seem to have been getting yourself
-mixed up in stirring events around here, according
-to what Sergeant Benton tells me. Whatever
-brings you so far away from home? I guess we’ll
-need your evidence at these inquests.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The three men chatted awhile, then presently, the
-coroner and the Inspector departed for the hotel,
-leaving Musgrave and Benton together.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>An indefinable constraint seemed to have fallen
-upon them, for the gloomy memory of the past night
-was still vivid in their minds and oppressed them
-greatly. The doctor was the first to break the
-silence.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“By gum!” he said; “I’d clean forgotten about
-your ear, Ellis. My bag’s still here. Let’s dress
-it again for you. Come inside again for a bit.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With deft hands he soon performed the operation
-and Benton, studiously avoiding the elder man’s
-eyes, thanked him and, with a slightly overdone
-yawn, prepared to leave and carry out the orders
-that he had previously received. Throughout Musgrave
-had talked incessantly on irrelevant subjects.
-It seemed as if he were maundering with design,
-beating about the bush of some communication he
-feared to make, and just talking against time.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well! have you seen that patient of mine up at
-the hotel yet?” he inquired.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant, with a curious, apprehensive glance
-at the closed bedroom door, beckoned the other outside.
-As if, almost, he feared that the dead might
-hear.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” he said. “Saw him when I went up for
-breakfast He’s the man, all right—Herbert
-Wilks—admits everything. Seemed glad to get it
-off his chest. Told me the whole business. Sounds
-just like a dime novel yarn. Well, truth’s stranger
-than fiction, so they say. Appears he’s been a dissipated
-young beggar, and he got fired from the Trust
-Company for inattention to his work. The very
-day he got let out he happened to pick up a paper
-in the manager’s private office, which turned out
-to be nothing more or less than the combination of
-the safe. Suppose the manager—or whoever </span><em class="italics">had</em><span>
-the combination—was scared to commit it to memory
-alone. Well, being, as I said before, a dissipated
-young scamp, he’d somehow got mixed up
-with this Shapiro chap in one or two dirty deals—women,
-I guess—an’ what not. Of course, he was
-pretty sore about gettin’ the push—went on a bust
-that night, an’ while he was ‘lit’ told Shapiro all
-about this paper he’d found. You just bet Mister
-‘Harry the Mack’ wasn’t goin’ to let a chance like
-that go by, an’ soon got Wilks goin’ ... telling
-him what a good opportunity it was to get back at
-them, an’ all that. Well, they fixed everything up
-for two nights after, and brought in Lipinski along
-with them. Shapiro’d got a set of burglar’s tools
-and soon effected an entrance. He an’ Wilks
-crawled in, leaving Lipinski as a ‘look-out.’ Wilks
-messed with the combination for a bit an’ tried to
-open her up, but couldn’t work it. Might have been
-an old one that’d been changed two or three times
-since the scale’d been written on this paper. Anyway,
-there seemed nothing doin’ an’ ‘Harry,’ being
-a yegg, got tired, an’ suggested blowin’ it. He went
-out to get the ‘soup’ ... from a pal of his who
-lived a short distance away, leaving Wilks still there.
-While he was waiting, our friend had </span><em class="italics">another</em><span> go at
-it, an’ this </span><em class="italics">time</em><span> managed, somehow, to turn the trick.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“He cleaned up everything, as </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> thought, and
-beat it in a hurry, leaving the safe open. Told
-Lipinski he’d be back in a minute—an’ skinned out.
-‘Honor among thieves’—what? Well, naturally,
-the first idea that came into his head was to
-go back to his home town—Hamilton—and swank
-around there for a bit with this money, thinking, of
-course, though, that suspicion might fall on him
-right away, bein’ fired two days before, and the
-safe, not blown, but opened by the combination, he
-was cute enough not to attempt to get aboard the
-East-bound </span><em class="italics">there</em><span>. Mr. Man gets some crooked pal
-of his—a chauffeur—to drive him in his automobile
-as far as Garstang. He laid up there till the
-ten-fifteen came along next morning. Then he got a
-bloomin’ fright. He was sitting in the first-class
-coach, all tickled up the back at makin’ his get-away
-so easy when, who should come an’ plank himself
-down on the seat alongside him but Mister ‘</span><em class="italics">Harry
-the Mack</em><span>.’ This chauffeur pal of his had double-crossed
-him after he’d driven back—told Shapiro
-everything who, you bet, wasn’t goin’ to get left like
-that.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“All this is, of course, what Harry told him.
-He’d managed to get on the train all right, without
-bein’ spotted—taking—” He lowered his voice,
-and indicated the drawn blinds with a significant gesture—“with
-him. Partly to divert suspicion, I
-suppose ... look like respectable couple—man
-an’ wife. Well, naturally, Harry talked pretty
-ugly ... what he’d do to him, an’ all that, if he
-didn’t whack up; but Wilks wouldn’t ’come across’—kept
-bluffin’ that he’d divvy up later on, an’ so
-on—knowing that he was safe enough as long as
-he was amongst a crowd of people. Of course
-Harry never breathed a word about shootin’ the
-night-watchman. The first intimation Wilks had
-about </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> was in a paper at the hotel, here. It
-appears about ten minutes after he’d vamoosed with
-the money Harry came back with the ‘soup,’ to do
-the blowin’ act. Lipinski told him that Wilks would
-be back in a few minutes, so they waited a bit. As
-he showed no signs of returning, they decided to go
-ahead without him—Lipinski goin’ in with Harry
-this time, to give him a hand. It didn’t take ’em
-long to see what’d happened, you bet. Everything
-all strewn around and turned upside down. They
-found a hundred an’ fifty in a small drawer I guess
-he’d overlooked in his hurry an’, according to Lipinski’s
-statement, they’d just split this up when the
-poor, bloomin’ watchman happened along an’ Shapiro
-fixed him. Then they bolted an’ the patrolman
-on the beat shot at them an’ one skinned one
-way an’ one the other. Lipinski didn’t see Harry
-again after that—beat it on his own to Seattle later,
-an’ got nailed.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, it seems they kept up this chewin’ the rag
-an’ watching each other till the train got down as
-far as here. It was gettin’ dark, then. Harry’d
-got a bottle of whiskey in his grip when he’d come
-on the train. He started in to get primed up on this,
-an’ Wilks got scared, for Harry began to raise his
-voice an’ look at him pretty nasty, with his hand in
-his hip-pocket. They managed to kick up such a
-row between ’em that the con’ came along—gave
-’em a callin’ down an’ threatened to chuck ’em off
-the train if they didn’t shut up. Harry started to
-give the con’ a whole lot of lip, an’ while these two
-were squabblin’ together, Mister Wilks slipped off—</span><em class="italics">here</em><span>—just
-as the train was on the move.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Of course Harry, as soon as he missed him,
-promptly got off at the next stop—Glenmore—fifteen
-miles east of here—an’ caught the West-bound
-back again in the morning. Went straight
-to the hotel an’ soon located his man. Didn’t speak
-to him, though. Didn’t register at the place, either—but
-that may have been because of the expense—hadn’t
-any too much ‘dough’ left, an’ p’r’aps figured
-he’d most likely have a long wait. He rented this
-furnished cottage instead, for a few days. It belongs
-to a chap named George Ricks, over at Beaver
-Dam. He comes into town an’ lives in it himself
-all the winter, but leaves it in charge of some chap
-here to rent to anybody who comes along during
-the summer. I guess Harry felt pretty safe, knowing
-that Wilks wasn’t exactly in the position to give
-him away. There’s absolutely no doubt what his
-intention was—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant paused a moment and eyed his listener
-grimly. The latter, with an equally grim comprehensive
-gesture, nodded silently.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well,” he went on, “here they camped, watchin’
-each other’s every little movement. Shapiro never
-got much of a show to do anything, though, for
-Wilks took darned good care to keep inside the
-hotel most of the time. He admits he was scared to
-death, especially after reading about Harry shootin’
-the watchman. Just dawdled around—couldn’t
-make up his mind </span><em class="italics">what</em><span> to do, knowing that he
-couldn’t shake Harry a </span><em class="italics">second</em><span> time. He was feeling
-pretty sick, too.... I guess this thing’s been
-comin’ on him some time, hasn’t it, Charley?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The doctor, nodding again, replied: “Yes, about
-a month, most probably.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“An’ that’s how the case stands,” concluded Ellis
-wearily. “If you hadn’t gone into his room that
-time when you did, Harry’d most likely put the kibosh
-on him right there. Choked him, p’r’aps. I
-got the money off him, O. K. About a hundred
-short—what he’d paid for his ticket through to
-Hamilton, a bribe to that chauffeur, Kelly, his hotel
-bill here, an’ odds an’ ends. The New Axminster
-men’ll get their hooks on that chauffeur quick, I’ll
-bet, when the O.C. forwards them my crime report.
-Don’t know whether they’ll be able to make a charge
-stick or not—may do. I turned the money into
-the bank for safe keeping. Inspector Purvis’ll take
-it down with him when we go back to the Post.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>There was a long pause. “Well, what’ll happen
-to this fellow now?” inquired Musgrave.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Guess Churchill’ll have to keep an eye on him,”
-said Ellis indifferently. “Take him in to the Post
-soon as he’s able to travel. He’ll be held there till
-a New Axminster man comes for him. Feel sorry,
-in a way, for the poor sick devil, but that’s all that
-can be done with </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>, now. Well, I must be getting—lots
-o’ work to do. See you later, Charley.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The elder man laid a detaining hand on the Sergeant’s
-shoulder, and his voice shook ever so little
-as he said slowly:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Wait a bit. There’s something I want to tell
-you before you go.” He swallowed and hesitated
-slightly in his agitation. “It’s about that—that—that
-poor girl,” he continued, in strained, unnatural
-tones. “Ellis, old man, you don’t know
-how sorry I am that I sneered at you last night....
-About being a moral reformer, and all that.... I
-hardly meant it at the time. And I’ve been feeling
-pretty bad since—since—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His voice broke, and he left the sentence unfinished.
-This was a great concession from Musgrave,
-and his hearer thought so, as he grasped the other’s
-arm with a sympathetic pressure.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Charley,” he said gently, “Charley.... Don’t
-think of that again.... See here; look! I don’t
-take you in earnest, every time. You’re the best
-friend I’ve got ... an’ the very first man I’d think
-of comin’ to, if I was in trouble. Maybe you don’t
-know it, but I tell you that same sarcastic tongue o’
-yours has cured me of lots o’ dam’-fool notions—time
-an’ again.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>They remained silent awhile, after this, then Musgrave
-went on, in a stronger voice:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“This is what I wanted to say. Seems very apparent,
-they—this—unfortunate couple, have little
-or no money—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant nodded, and cleared his throat.
-“Very little,” he said. “Man’s got a few dollars
-left—seven-fifty, or something like that.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, now; look!” said the doctor. “These
-two will have a decent burial in the cemetery here,
-at my expense. It’s my wish.” And, as Ellis raised
-a protesting hand, “No, no, my boy—let be!
-</span><em class="italics">You’re</em><span> not immaculate, God knows, but, by the Lord
-Harry! you’re a better man than I am, and I respect
-you for many things.... ‘As ye sow, so shall ye
-reap.’... It’s thirty years since I heard that text;
-I forgot it the same day, and never thought of it
-again till now. There may be truth in it. I say,
-for the peace of my soul, let me do this thing; and
-little though it is—may the Recording Angel—if
-there is one—remember it as something in my
-favor when my time comes.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis never forgot those words, nor the weary,
-bitter, hopeless look that accompanied them; and,
-long years afterwards, their remembrance rushed
-back to his mind with vivid distinctness, as he held
-poor Musgrave’s dying head.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Drearily he wended his way up the main street,
-his mind preoccupied with the problem of fulfilling
-the coroner’s final request. He knew comparatively
-few of the male—let alone, the female, community,
-of the little town and, somehow, he instinctively
-shrank at the thought of having to approach strange
-women anent such a delicate duty. In his perplexity
-he went to Carey, and besought the latter’s
-advice.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The agent mused a space. “Let’s see,” he said.
-“There’s Mrs. Steele—she’s head of the Women’s
-Church Guild here, and there’s Mrs. Parsons, and
-Mrs. Macleod. You go and see them. They ought
-to be able to help you out. I’ll tell you where they
-live.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With a vague feeling of uneasiness, Ellis departed,
-and presently found himself at Mrs. Steele’s
-abode. A gray-haired, elderly woman, with a high-featured,
-severe face, answered his summons and,
-with some trepidation, he broached the subject of his
-visit. She listened impatiently, her hard eyes narrowing
-and her thin lips compressing themselves
-into a straight line.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No!” she snapped coldly, as he ended. “I
-</span><em class="italics">don’t</em><span>—an’ what’s more ... I wouldn’t think of
-asking—or expecting—any decent woman to go
-getting herself mixed up in such a scandalous business
-as this.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And she began to slowly thrust the door to.
-“Such shockin’ goin’s on in a decent, God-fearing
-neighborhood!” she shrilled. “Wicked hussies
-walkin’ the street, an’—an’ men being shot—an’
-all, an’ all.... God help the town that has to depend
-on the likes of you policemen to keep such bad
-characters away!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The virulence with which she uttered this last
-somewhat unjust, remark, stung him sharply.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aye, madam,” he echoed bitterly. “An’ God
-help all poor, unfortunate souls that are dependent
-upon the likes of you for Christian mercy, too!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But his words only greeted empty air, for the door
-was slammed violently to in his face.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Feeling sick at heart, he wandered away, only
-meeting with more or less indifference at the other
-addresses that Carey had given him. By this time
-a strange nervousness, entirely foreign to his nature,
-began to assail him. Men he understood and could
-deal with. But women—ah, that was a very different
-matter.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was just on the point of abandoning his quest
-in despair when he beheld a woman coming out of
-a store opposite to where he stood. The light of a
-great relief immediately lit up his troubled eyes for,
-in the plain, homely, blue-serge uniform that she
-wore, with its red-barred bonnet, he recognized at
-a glance the all-familiar badge of the Salvation
-Army—that long-suffering and too frequently disparaged
-organization which, nevertheless, spreads
-its gospel of humility and help to the ends of the
-earth; whose followers, whilst always remaining
-nobly indifferent to the shafts of misguided ridicule
-leveled against them from time to time by members
-of many far less charitable sects, never shrink from
-entering the lowly dwellings of the poorest of the
-poor—aye—and the foulest dens of iniquity—in
-the </span><em class="italics">practical</em><span> fulfilment of their creed of genuine
-Christian mercy and succor.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis looked eagerly at the slight figure for a
-moment. Why not try her? he reflected. Surely
-she wouldn’t turn him down, like the rest? Didn’t
-the Salvationists always hold a service for the prisoners
-in the guardroom every Sunday morning?
-And didn’t they help out all the poor devils who
-were down and out when their sentences were expired—giving
-them shelter, food, and clothes, and
-finding them jobs? Yes, he would ask </span><em class="italics">her</em><span>!</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He crossed over and, with a few quick strides,
-overtook the little woman, who stopped at his salutation
-and turned a worn, patient face to his, regarding
-him with astonishment meanwhile, out of a pair
-of kindly brown eyes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Why did he stammer and hesitate like that? she
-wondered. Surely he could not be afraid of </span><em class="italics">her</em><span>?
-For the Sergeant’s voice and manner betrayed a
-curious timidity just then, that was strangely out of
-keeping with his bronzed, hard-bitten face and athletic
-figure. His recent experiences had rendered
-him decidedly nervous in approaching women. She
-listened to his request with passive interest, and
-nodded her acquiescence, gazing intently, all the time,
-at his bandaged head.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’m afraid you must have got hurt bad,” she
-said sympathetically. “It was all in this morning’s
-paper, an’ everybody’s full of it. I came up on
-the early train to nurse a sick woman here. I remember
-seeing you once before, a long time ago, at
-the Barracks. I was in the Female Gaol, talking
-to Mrs. Stratford, the matron, an’ you came over
-from the guardroom.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Would to God you’d been here last night!” he
-blurted out passionately.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aye, would to God I had!” she echoed, with
-a wistful sadness. “Give me the key, then, Sergeant.
-I’ll go right on down there now.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Silently he handed it over, and tried to thank her,
-but somehow—the words would not come. He
-only looked at her, with a dumb gratitude showing
-in his tired eyes, swallowed a little, and turned
-quickly away.</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xiv">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER XIV</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“Mother and daughter, father and son,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Come to my solitude one by one;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>But come they stranger, or come they kin,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>I gather—gather—I gather them in.”</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">The Old Sexton</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Two days later the little funeral cortège
-slowly wound its way up to the diminutive
-cemetery, situated on a rising plateau at
-the back of the little town.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was a still, fine afternoon, and the bright sunshine
-flooded everything around that peaceful spot
-with its sleepy, golden haze. Far away in the distance
-arose the purple peaks of the Rockies, white-capped
-with their eternal snows against the pure,
-turquoise-blue sky. It was a day to gladden the
-hearts of all living creatures, but somehow its tranquillity
-awoke no response in the breasts of the two
-men who followed the dead to their last resting
-place.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Arriving at the grave-side they reverently bared
-their heads, and the clergyman, a kindly, earnest-faced
-young man with a deep, resonant voice, began
-the service.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis felt unaccountably oppressed with many conflicting
-emotions. Though never a downright unbeliever,
-religion was to him more or less of a sealed
-book, and the reckless, irresponsible wandering life
-that had been his since boyhood had not been conducive
-to much serious thought on that sacred subject.
-The solemn, beautiful, tremendous words that
-stand at the head of the burial service, with their
-glorious, all-powerful promise of Eternal Life affected
-him strangely now, with their awe-inspiring
-significance.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">“I am the Resurrection and the Life,” saith the
-Lord: “He that believeth in me, though he were
-dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and
-believeth in me shall never die.”</em></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Often—ah, how often—with the callous indifference
-bred of active service and its cruel, sordid
-realities, had he listened to them before, out there
-on the far-away South African veldt, blaspheming,
-as like as not, under his breath at the heat, and the
-dust, and the maddening flies as, “Resting upon
-Arms Reversed,” he stood beside the freshly dug
-grave of some dead comrade.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away.</em><span>”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And the vision of his dream rose up in his brooding
-mind once more; and again he seemed to behold
-that poor girl before him, arisen from the dead,
-and the glory in her eyes as, with bowed head and
-outstretched arms like the Angel of Pity, she gazed
-sweetly, but sadly, down upon him from amidst that
-great, shining, billowy cloud of light.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And then—his brain sank into a deep oblivion
-of dreamy, chaotic thought, through which the curate’s
-sonorous intonation, sounding far off and indistinct,
-penetrated at intervals.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">We therefore commit her body to the ground;
-earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.</em><span>”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>At the well-remembered words mechanically, from
-long practise, he stooped and cast a handful of earth
-into the grave. And, the dull thud of its fall upon
-her coffin, was on his very heart.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The service ended, but still the scarlet-coated
-figure remained there motionless, with bowed head,
-as of one in a dream. He was aroused from his
-reverie by Musgrave touching him on the arm.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Come, old man!” said the doctor gently, “it’s
-all over now; let’s go. Are you going to wait for
-the—other?...”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” responded Ellis in a strained, unnatural
-voice, without raising his eyes.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
-</div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Drearily, without another word being uttered on
-either side the whole way back, they returned to the
-detachment and, sitting down in the little office, filled
-their pipes and smoked moodily awhile, amidst an
-embarrassing silence, which was finally broken by
-Musgrave.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, Ellis, old man,” he said quietly, “seems
-we’ve come through rather a sad passage.”</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
-</div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Benton raised his troubled eyes and, for the first
-time that day, looked the other squarely in the face,
-with a certain sense of relief as he did so.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” he answered listlessly. “I know I have.
-Charley,” he continued, “I don’t know exactly why
-it is, but that girl’s death’s shaken me up rather bad ... kid
-was an utter stranger to me, but somehow—somehow—it
-seems as if I’d known her always.
-Must have been her eyes.” His voice shook
-a little, and trailed off into a murmur. “Yes ...
-they were very like poor Eileen Regan’s—way
-back there in Jo’burg—very like hers, weren’t
-they?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, and the doctor nodded sympathetically.
-Before the war he had known the Sergeant’s
-dead love well—had attended her in her last illness.
-There was a long silence.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Don’t worry, Ellis,” said Musgrave softly.
-“She’s in a better place now, I think, for she was
-more sinned against than sinning, poor girl.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton got up and, leaning out of the open window,
-looked dreamily away over the sun-scorched
-prairie.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aye,” he muttered slowly, half to himself; “I
-don’t think—I know. I saw the look on her face
-the night she died ... an’ I saw her again—afterwards.
-That should stop me from worrying.
-See here; look, Charley,” he went on, in a steadier
-voice, turning to his companion: “You must have
-seen many deaths in your time—lots more than I
-have, I guess ... an’ God knows I’ve seen enough,
-one way an’ another. I tell you—people in their
-last stages see something that </span><em class="italics">we</em><span> can’t. It’s beyond
-</span><em class="italics">our</em><span> ken—but it’s there. Probably you as a doctor,
-with all your scientific medical theories, analyze it
-differently, but you know what I mean, for all that.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Musgrave did not answer at once, but smoked
-thoughtfully on for a space.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” he agreed, with a curious, dry intonation
-in his voice, “I know what you mean, all right. No
-doubt they </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> possess some strange prescience ...
-but I don’t think we’ll start a discussion on that, old
-man. Circumstances have reduced both of us to a
-certain frame of mind just now, wherein we might
-be persuaded into believing anything.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis cogitated awhile over this last utterance.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“M’m—yes,” he admitted reluctantly. “Only
-temporarily at that, too. Begad!... I’m the one
-that knows it.... Guess I’m the most impulsive,
-changeable beggar that ever was.... Always
-have been more or less of an impressionable fool—where
-women are concerned, anyway. S’pose it’s
-my nature. Here are we two—we’ve both had our
-troubles at various periods of our sinful lives. Some
-were of our own making—some were not. Mind!
-I’m not meanin’ this lightly, remember ... far
-from it at such a time as this ... but just the plain,
-absolute facts—coming from a man who knows
-himself too well to trust his passing emotions.” He
-struck a match and lit his pipe again, continuing with
-some irritation in his voice. “All that bunkum that
-religious extremists and temperance cranks would
-have you believe ... about sudden conversions an’
-all that.... Fellows </span><em class="italics">can</em><span> alter their ways a bit—chuck
-a brace, an’ climb out of the pit they’ve dug
-for themselves, no doubt. But it’s a </span><em class="italics">gradual</em><span> process,
-an’ doesn’t come quick by any means, like these
-fanatics try to make out. There’s one of ’em, in
-particular, who makes a specialty of writing—what
-he, in his limited knowledge of actual facts—conceives
-to be true Western yarns. Most of ’em, I
-guess, pass as such with the general public who read
-’em. Oh, he’s great on this conversion business.
-One was a fool book about </span><em class="italics">our</em><span> Force, I remember,
-where he makes the bucks go pallin’ around arm in
-arm with their superior officers—doin’ the ‘Percy,
-old chap,’ stunt, ‘When we were at college together,
-you know!’ Sounds all hunkadory—like a happy
-family, an’ all that but, unfortunately, it ain’t true.
-Can’t imagine it happening with any of the powers
-that be in </span><em class="italics">our</em><span> Division, anyway. Take ‘Father,’
-for instance—what? Then, again—all that stuff—what
-‘Tork abaht Tompkins’ our regimental
-teamster calls ‘’Igh falutin’ Bull-Durham,’ and
-‘Father’—‘Poppycock’ that’s written about the
-Force. An’ oh—</span><em class="italics">always</em><span> in a bloomin’ red serge,
-of course, no matter what dirty job they’re on ... never
-a stable-jacket—they don’t wear such
-things. All the pictures you see of Mounted Policemen,
-too, chasin’ cattle rustlers, arresting bootleggers,
-an’ nitchies, in which we’re depicted as
-such ’eroes’—red serge, again—so’s the noble
-Mounted cop can be seen comin’ a long ways off.
-That reminds me, though—I’ll have to ride back
-to the Creek in one myself,” he added ruefully.
-“My stable-jacket’s ruined with all that blood on it.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, and knocked the ashes out of his pipe.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No, </span><em class="italics">sir</em><span>,” he continued emphatically. “</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> know
-what becomes of the large percentage of your sudden
-converts. Most of ’em land up as hopeless
-booze artists in the last stages of D.T.—or else go
-</span><em class="italics">completely</em><span> bug-house. Lord knows, we get all kinds
-of ’em in that guardroom at the Post. Many’s the
-screechin’, prayin’ strait-jacketed nuisance I’ve had
-to escort up to Ponoka. After all’s said an’ done,
-the only philosophy a man can practise to make life
-worth living at all, is just to peg along quietly, doing
-the best he can under the circumstances in which he
-finds himself placed day by day. I know it is for a
-Mounted man, anyway for, begad! he get’s everybody
-else’s bloomin’ troubles dinned into his ears
-in addition to his own.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“As you said just now, we’ve both come through
-a sad passage. We have. But this feeling won’t
-stay with us. We’ll be genuinely an’ sincerely sorry
-an’ repentant for the time being, but by degrees
-we’ll fall back into our old ways again. It may be
-smug, complacent reasoning, but it’s a fact. Now,
-isn’t that right, Charley?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The elder man smiled wearily. “Guess you’re
-pretty near it,” he admitted. “Don’t know
-whether you’re able to put all </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> troubles behind
-you as effectively as you intimate. I know I can’t
-lots of mine. There’s some I can’t forget—even
-after all these years. They’re with me night and
-day. Remember me telling you ... that day
-when we were up at Cecil Rhodes’ tomb, ’way back
-there up in the Matoppos?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He gazed at Benton anxiously, almost timidly.
-Ellis bowed his head in assent, but he could not find
-words to answer just then. For there was something
-in the haggard, deeply lined face of his old
-friend that forbade conventional condolence.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A long silence ensued, and presently Musgrave
-rose to go.</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“The Devil was sick—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>The Devil a monk would be;”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>he quoted, with a wry, whimsical smile. “I guess
-I’ll go on over to the hotel and see ‘Wilks,’ as you
-call him. He was much better this morning. Believe
-he’ll pull through without an operation now.
-Churchill should be able to take him down in three
-or four days’ time if he keeps improving like this.
-By the way! Churchill’s making a pretty long stay
-at the Post, isn’t he?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, I don’t know,” yawned the Sergeant.
-“P’r’aps he’s not through with that case of his yet.
-It was right at the end of the docket. Maybe he’s
-got mighty good reason for not hurrying back, too,”
-he added ominously.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I never noticed till the other day he’d got the
-South African ribbon up—whatever outfit was </span><em class="italics">he</em><span>
-in?” inquired the doctor.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Search me,” said Ellis contemptuously. “The
-‘Can I Venture,’ ‘Jam Wallahs,’—‘Sacca Bona’s
-Horse,’ or some irresponsible bunch o’ Bashi-Bazouks,
-I guess. I’ve never asked him. I think I
-told you before, Charley, there’s five hundred dollars’
-reward for Wilks. If it comes through, so
-much the better for both of us. I’ll see you sure
-get your fee an’ expenses in full. In all fairness
-you’re entitled to half of it, anyway, in consideration
-of the whisper you gave me in the beginning.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Didn’t think you fellows were allowed to accept
-rewards,” said the doctor.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, we’re not, as a rule,” Ellis admitted.
-“But now an’ again they make exceptions when the
-crime has been committed outside our usual jurisdiction.
-Take that hold-up of the C.P.R. passenger
-train near Ducks in B.C. that time, by those three
-chaps—Bill Miner, Shorty Dunn, an’ Lewis Colquhoun.
-Five of our men got rewarded for nailing
-</span><em class="italics">them</em><span>. Let’s see! there was Wilson, Shoebotham,
-Peters, Stewart, an’ Browning. They got thirteen
-hundred an’ fifty apiece for that job. But we never
-receive it direct. It has to come through the Commissioner.
-Generally it’s turned into the Fine Fund
-at Headquarters, an’ the grant is made from there.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“All right,” said Musgrave indifferently, as he
-opened the door. “If it does come through—why,
-all well and good, though I’m sorry, in a way,
-for the poor devil.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With his hand on the knob, he turned, the ghost
-of a smile flitting across his strong intellectual face.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Guess you weren’t far out in your remarks just
-now,” he said. “Seems the transformation’s begun
-already. Afraid we’ve come down to Mother Earth
-again with a vengeance. Remember Sir Noel Paton’s
-great picture—‘The Man with the Muckrake,’ Ellis?
-So long!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“So long,” the other answered mechanically,
-without turning his head.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And the door closed softly.</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xv">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER XV</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>O Memory, ope thy mystic door!</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>O dream of youth, return!</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>And let the lights that gleamed of yore</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>Beside this altar burn!</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">Gray</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>The subtle irony conveyed in the doctor’s
-last words had not been lost on their
-hearer.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aye! ‘The Man with the Muckrake,’” he
-soliloquized. “That was just it. Also, it was
-characteristic of Charley that he should have interpreted
-the impression in such fashion, too.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was Sunday, and the sound of the church bells
-tolling for evening service, interspersed with the
-merry voices of children in their play, fell unheeded
-on the ears of the man who, with mind sunk in far-away
-thought, still remained in the same attitude,
-with his arms resting on the window ledge, gazing
-out over the unbroken vista of rolling prairie.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>That stern, bandaged face, framed in the open
-casement, its brooding eyes fixed, seemingly, on the
-beyond, with the whole setting bathed in the blood-red
-flame of the sunset’s afterglow, might have impressed
-one as vividly suggestive of that striking
-example of the late Sir John Tenniel’s art, in his
-depiction of that scene enacted in far-off Khartoum
-twenty-three years before—of </span><em class="italics">one</em><span>—who,
-wounded and desperate, gazed day by day from a
-window in the citadel out across the sun-scorched
-desert towards Metemmah, his despairing eyes forever
-vainly seeking that help which came not.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The evening shadows began to fall, but still Ellis
-remained in that deep reverie while, as if in a dream,
-visions of his past life rose up in his mind with
-strange reality.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>As if it were only yesterday he recalled that last
-stormy scene which clinched his determination to
-leave home. The scornful, accusing face of his step-mother,
-and his father’s angry, worried countenance,
-as he (Ellis) gazed steadily and defiantly back at
-the woman whose continual petty spite had contrived
-to make his life at home unbearable.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Both of them were still alive and well, old Major
-Carlton had mentioned in his last letter. No—they
-never spoke of him. He was an outcast from
-his family of his own accord. Yes, that might be,
-but never a prodigal, or a remittance man, despite
-his birth and early breeding.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>No, he could never be classed with such as they,
-thank God. Ever since he had shaken the dust of
-England off his feet he had earned his living honestly
-with the toil of his brain and body, as a man
-amongst men. He had done nothing to shame his
-manhood, and his life was his own to live out as he
-saw fit; so, come what might, unless by their express
-behest, his people should never behold his face
-again, whether in life or death.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Then, tripping fast over one another, came flashes
-of the wild, free life on the range that had followed
-his emigration. That evening he arrived at the
-Circle H—only a boy in his teens, hungry, foot-sore,
-and moneyless, after tramping all the way
-from Billings. The rough, morose face of “Big
-Jim Parsons,” as he sneeringly asked him his nationality,
-and finally flung him a job, as a bone to a
-dog. That worthy’s kindness to him afterwards,
-in recognition of his proven courage and adaptability,
-and the unspeakable language the foreman was
-wont to use in his clumsy attempts to gloss over
-any generous deed. Poor old Jim. </span><em class="italics">His</em><span> had been
-the kind of friendship that counts. Too bad that
-horse had killed him like it did, after all his years
-of riding. The fun they had when they blew into
-town after the round-ups. The trivial arguments
-that so often ended in death, and the blind, unquestioning
-sincerity with which they espoused their
-bosses’ and friends’ feuds over the sheep-grazing
-infringements and other grievances of cattle men.
-The smell of scorched hide and the bawling of cattle
-in the corrals on branding days. The riding and
-steer roping at Cheyenne and Red Butte on gala
-occasions. Aye, that was the life. Why hadn’t
-he stuck to it instead of becoming by turns, prize-fighter,
-soldier and, finally, Mounted Policeman?
-getting, in the latter vocation, as he had previously
-remarked, a taste of everybody else’s worries in
-addition to his own.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Then followed brief memories of his pugilistic
-career. That scrap on the open street in Butte that
-night, which had been the thin edge of the wedge
-of his subsequent entry into professional fighting,
-when he put away “Bull Blatzsky” for chasing that
-girl. The piteous appeal in her frightened, pretty
-face as she sought his protection, and the contemptuous
-sarcasm of the formidable prize-fighter, telling
-him to “beat it back to th’ farm.” The tingling in
-his veins, and the exultation that he had felt surging
-through him as he beheld his opponent weakening,
-and the yelling plaudits of the crowd as he fought
-himself out of that last clinch and landed the final
-punch that ended matters. He had knocked out
-men enough since then, Lord knows, at one time
-and another, and perhaps might do the same for
-many more, but that hot, proud flush he would never
-feel again. That fight in which he had defeated
-Gus Ahrens at Madison Square Gardens in New
-York, and received a thousand dollars as his long
-end of the purse. The terrible month’s spree that
-followed. And then—the low-down, insidious
-propositions that various promoters and managers
-kept putting up to him from time to time which,
-finally, decided him to forsake the ring. Yes, begad!
-the average standard of prize-fighting morality was
-rotten to the core. He could vouch for it from
-personal experience. It was a good job he’d quit
-it in time before the crooks got him; but, at any
-rate, he could always look back to those days with
-the clear conscience of one who had never “put
-anything over” on the public. Fought on the square
-at all times, and given the best that was in him for
-the spectators and those that had backed him.
-Whatever they might have said or thought, it surely
-was not flagging endurance or courage that caused
-his departure for South Africa.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, with that reflection, the memory of his first
-glimpse of that later unquiet land came back to him,
-and again he seemed to see the huge, black, up-flung
-wall of Table Mountain clean-cut against the blue-black,
-star-studded sky, and the twinkling lights of
-Capetown beneath its shadow, with the great, yellow
-African moon above all, as he beheld it from the
-deck of the </span><em class="italics">Braemar Castle</em><span> the night she made
-Table Bay.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>What a curious old and new-world town Capetown
-was, with its civilized and uncivilized mixture of
-races, creeds, and dress that you could stand and
-watch jostling each other in front of the windows
-of those splendid up-to-date stores in Plein Street.
-English, Dutch, Portuguese, Hottentot, Malay,
-Zulu, Kaffir, Hindoo, and Chinese, with the ubiquitous
-Jew bidding fair to outnumber them all.
-What a pleasant, lazy time he had had, wandering
-around there before he went up-country. Out
-Greenpoint way to the sea’s edge, where one could
-look clear across past the lighthouse to Simon’s-Town,
-and Lion’s Head Mountain. And those
-occasional trips to the outlying suburbs, Wynberg,
-Paarl, Woodstock, where all the magnates’ luxurious
-bungalows were, lying half-hidden amidst huge,
-clustering masses of magnificent tropical foliage;
-and Rondebosch, where “Groot Schuurr,” the palatial
-home of Cecil Rhodes, the great Dictator of
-Cape Colony and Rhodesia, was situated.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was dead now—that strong, skilful protagonist
-to whom Africa owed so much, and buried in
-accordance with his last wish—in a tomb cut out
-of the solid rock on the summit of the highest peak
-in the Matoppos, appropriately termed “The View
-of the World.”</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>It is his will that he look forth</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>Across the world he won—</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>The granite of the ancient North—</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>Great spaces washed with sun.</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Aye—Kipling’s immortal lines were a fitting
-requiem to the memory of the great dead. Cecil
-Rhodes was gone, but—</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Living he was the land, and dead,</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>His soul shall be her soul!</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>How well he recalled that memorable pilgrimage
-thither, as if to a shrine, that he and Musgrave had
-made together after the war.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Then those two years spent in the Chartered Company’s
-service, before the war came, and the godforsaken
-places he was stationed in previous to
-his transfer to Johannesburg—Umtali, Nhaukoe,
-Mumbatua Falls, and Inyongo, up in the Mungamba
-Mountains, with mostly only natives for company.
-The bright, cool days, and the long, sweet, silent
-nights afterwards, up in the Magaliesberg Range,
-where it was so still that it seemed uncanny. The
-glorious sunrises—the air heavy with the scent of
-wattle bloom and mimosa flower, as you came out
-from your tent in the morning, feeling full of the joy
-of life, healthy and strong, unrecking of the morrow,
-and amused yourself throwing stones at the
-baboons that barked “Boom ba! boom ba!” at you
-from their perches away up on the ledges in the
-</span><em class="italics">krantzes</em><span>.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And then—“Jo’burg,” with its conglomeration
-of cosmopolitan adventurers. Hard-drinking, busy,
-grasping men, all struggling gamely in the same great
-vortex of speculation in the gold and diamond mines
-of the Rand, and all breathing the same hatred towards
-the South African Republic, and the tyranny
-and injustice of “Oom Paul Kruger” and his ministers,
-whose grasping avarice and total disregard of
-even the common rights of citizenship were gradually
-making the </span><em class="italics">Uitlander’s</em><span> lot unbearable.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, but old Oom got </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> afterwards, when the
-war he had provoked finally overwhelmed him and
-forced him and Steyn to flee from the country and
-people that they had ruined. A faint, reflective
-smile relaxed his somber face as he absently hummed
-a few lines of a doggerel ditty that had been sung
-around every camp fire from Pretoria to Capetown
-in the later stages of the war:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“Oom Paul Kruger” seems every one’s pal</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>In this wide world, wide world.</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>For he is such a cleanly, sweet-smelling old chap;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Handkerchiefs, he disdains—gives his fingers a snap;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Oh! ain’t it a shame that he’s wiped off the map</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Of this awfully wide, wide world?</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Aye, that war.... He’d sure done some hard
-slugging there, one way and another. That two
-months on the Karroo Desert ... whew! rotten
-water—what little there was of it—and fellows
-going under every day with “enteric.” Those
-cursed night marches, after a long day’s </span><em class="italics">trek</em><span>, where
-your horse kept coming down with you amongst the
-</span><em class="italics">meerkat</em><span> holes in the dark. Lord! but they were
-hard, bitter men in that Irregular Horse—had had
-enough to make ’em—mostly refugees from the
-Rand. They sure could fight, and were up to all
-the Boer’s tricks, too. That was some scrap at
-Wepener, under that burning sun all day. What
-a smack that bullet gave him. Slap through his
-body. Felt just like being hit with a hammer.
-They’d got him at last, but at a price—for had he
-not deliberately picked off six “</span><em class="italics">Doppers</em><span>” before
-it came, as he lay cached behind that broken-down
-Cape cart?... Flopped ’em out, one after the
-other ... and lots more before that, too, at
-Elandslaagte, Waggon Hill, and in various small
-skirmishes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>That chase after De Wet and Kritzinger, long
-afterwards, during the guerilla warfare that followed,
-when they and Honeycroft’s column converged
-on Pampoon Poort and nearly nailed the
-whole bunch. He’d killed five horses in that two
-weeks’ drive. Those Argentines hadn’t got much
-bottom in them, though. Basuto ponies were the
-stuff—if you were lucky enough to get hold of one—for
-they mostly got snapped up by the officers.
-Tough!... the cayuses in this country were pretty
-hard—some of ’em—but they weren’t a patch on
-those little Basutos.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ah, well, it was all over now; but what misery
-and fun they had had, mixed. Either a feast or a
-famine. Starving one day, gorged the next.
-Things had got pretty slim, though, towards the
-end, with all the countless columns ravaging the
-country. Couldn’t even get a bit of firewood to boil
-your coffee, let alone a pig or a chicken. Nothing
-left except a few thin sheep, and those stringy, pink-eyed
-Angora goats—worse provender than
-“bully” or “Macconnochie Ration.” The night
-he, Barney Ebbsworth, and Billy Gardiner “feloniously,
-and with intent,” stole that keg of rum at
-Norval’s Pont, and the glorious drunk that they
-and the guardians of the neighboring blockhouse had
-on it.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, they were pretty tough specimens, all right,
-in that regiment, for the surroundings and conditions
-they lived under in those haphazard days were
-not particularly conducive to much close observance
-of the higher ethics of refinement or morality.
-“Sufficient unto the day thereof” had been the only
-maxim that went there, for the span of life was of
-too doubtful duration, between sun-up and sun-down,
-to speculate overmuch on what the morrow might
-bring forth.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He’d done </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> bit, anyway, and had come out of
-it safely, with three medals and completely restored
-health. Luckier than lots of the poor devils in his
-regiment, so many of whom were lying in their lonely
-graves back there, on which the </span><em class="italics">aasvogel</em><span> perched by
-day and the hyena prowled around by night—or
-those that were living, crippled up for life, perhaps,
-scores of them. No! South Africa was all right
-in some ways, but he wouldn’t care to live there
-again, for many things. The American continent
-was a better country for a poor man, after all, and
-he hadn’t done so badly. He’d not saved a fortune,
-it was true; he’d given more away to others
-than he’d ever spent on himself, for he was always
-an easy mark for any poor devil with a hard-luck
-story. But he’d generally kept a moderate stake
-in the bank for a rainy day, so there was no particular
-cause for him to take such pessimistic views
-of life as he was prone to do at times. He’d much
-to be thankful for. His police record was good,
-and he had risen very quickly during his five odd
-years’ service. For, without being exactly over-zealous,
-his list of convictions—long-term ones at
-that—was probably higher than any other man’s
-in the Division, and some of them had caused him
-to be the recipient of favorable recognition from
-the Commissioner on more than one occasion.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, without being unduly “stuck on himself,”
-he </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> possess a good many of the natural qualifications
-requisite for police duty. For stock cases,
-anyway, and the position he occupied in the province
-as a Sergeant in the R.N.W.M.P., undoubtedly
-gave him a certain standing in any community.
-Grouse and worry as he might, there </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> a good
-deal of fascination about the life, which was exemplified
-by the unconsciously keen interest that, entirely
-apart from the fact of mere duty, he felt in the
-various crooked problems that he was called upon
-from time to time to solve.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>If only it wasn’t such a cursed </span><em class="italics">lonely</em><span> life. Lonely,
-in the sense of his self-imposed isolation that he felt
-was incumbent on him, more or less, in the interests
-of duty. That’s what gave </span><em class="italics">him</em><span> the pip, and caused
-those rotten fits of depression that came over him
-at times. Yes, there was no doubt about it—he
-was getting crankier and crankier every year. He
-was conscious of it. What was coming over him?
-He didn’t use to be like that. Fellows were starting
-to call him “Old” Ben, too, already. He
-didn’t deserve </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>, surely—even if his hair </span><em class="italics">was</em><span>
-turning slightly gray. He could still show some of
-those young men, ten years his junior, a thing or
-two yet, in any test of physical endurance or skill.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, it was lonely, all right. But, then, it didn’t
-do for a man situated in a crooked district like he
-was to get going around with the glad hand, either.
-That was apt to make a policeman’s duty highly disagreeable
-on occasion, as he knew from past experience.
-No, the only way was to keep aloof from
-people as much as possible in a place like this; then
-they had nothing on you, obligation or anything else,
-and you could soak it to ’em without compunction
-whenever occasion arose. They weren’t all like
-Barney Gallagher or Lake. Thank goodness, he
-could always trust </span><em class="italics">them</em><span>, and could talk freely in
-their company without having to be continually on
-his guard.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Thus he continued to muse, his mind reverting in
-turns to many curious problems, till suddenly rousing
-himself with a start, he drew back from the window
-and, stretching and yawning, looked at his
-watch.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Lord, what a time I’ve been dreaming there!”
-he muttered. “It’s too late for grub at the hotel.
-I guess I’ll have to go on down to the Chink’s an’
-get something there.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He lit the lamp and, after hunting around for
-some cleaning kit, began mechanically to clean his
-dusty riding boots, preparatory to going out.
-Whilst thus engaged, the door opened, admitting
-Sergeant Churchill.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Hello, Ben,” greeted that individual, with an
-assumption of geniality. “You still here?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis turned and, straightening himself up, regarded
-the other with languid interest.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Hello,” he returned. “Train in? Was beginning
-to think you’d deserted.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Churchill did not answer immediately but, divesting
-himself of his side-arms and serge, sat down
-and proceeded to smoke.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Had a trip up to the ‘Pen’ with a bunch o’
-prisoners,” he volunteered presently. “Yours
-amongst ’em. That Fisk started in to give us a lot
-o’ trouble on th’ way, but we put th’ kibosh on </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>
-properly, before we got there.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“M’m, m’m,” said Benton absently. “He’s a
-bad actor, ‘Big George.’ How d’you make out
-with that perjury case of yours?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Nine months,” answered Churchill laconically.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A long silence ensued, during which Ellis continued
-his polishing, Churchill eyeing him furtively
-meanwhile.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Must have got a bad smash?” he ventured, indicating
-the other’s bandaged head. “Heard all
-about it at th’ Post.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh,” replied Ellis indifferently, “did you?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His tone was anything but encouraging. Churchill
-licked his lips and essayed another attempt.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What verdicts did the coroner’s jury bring in
-on those cases?” he inquired, with a forced carelessness
-in his tone that did not deceive Benton in the
-least. “I haven’t seen th’ paper.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis, with his foot on a chair, paused and turned,
-brush in hand.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Eh?” he returned irritably.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Churchill, avoiding the other’s eyes and fumbling
-with his pipe, repeated the question.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton reached for a memorandum form that
-lay on the desk, and tossed it over unceremoniously.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“There’s a copy of the wording of the findings,”
-he said shortly. “Condensed, it practically amounts
-to ‘death, caused by an act of justifiable homicide,’
-in the one case, ‘manslaughter,’ in the other....”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He finished his cleaning operations and proceeded
-to pull on his serge. Churchill fidgeted uneasily.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Was there—what kind of evidence was adduced?”
-he began. “Did—?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Here!” interrupted Ellis harshly. “What the
-devil are </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> beating ’round the bush for? Why
-don’t you come across with it plain? What d’you
-want to know?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The local Sergeant flushed angrily, stung to the
-quick by the rough incivility of his companion’s
-speech and the cold, contemptuous stare that accompanied
-it, but sheer bodily fear of the ex-pugilist
-silenced the retort that sprang to his lips, and he
-sank back in the chair from which he had half
-arisen.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh—nothing,” he mumbled thickly. “I
-thought p’r’aps—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” broke in Benton savagely. “I know what
-you </span><em class="italics">thought</em><span>, and I’ll tell you this much, Mr. ‘B——’
-Churchill.... If I hadn’t given my evidence
-mighty darned careful, </span><em class="italics">you’d</em><span> have been on the flypaper,
-properly, both feet. </span><em class="italics">Your</em><span> name cropped up
-during the inquests—one of the jury-men gently
-inquiring ‘why </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> weren’t present, as p’r’aps </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>
-might have been able to throw some light on one or
-two obscure points in the inquiry.’ But, luckily for
-you, none of the others took his suggestion up.”
-He paused and, emitting a short, ugly laugh, continued:
-“I’m under ‘open’ arrest, an’ I’ve got to go
-back with Inspector Purvis an’ face a formal charge
-of manslaughter—same as in that Cashell business.
-We should worry, anyway. What gets </span><em class="italics">my</em><span>
-goat is you thinkin’ you were smart enough to cover
-up your trail in a little, one-horse ‘</span><em class="italics">dorp</em><span>’ like this.
-D’you figure you could pull off anything like that,
-with all these old geezers of women around?
-What? I don’t think. It’s a good job for you
-none o’ </span><em class="italics">them</em><span> happened to be called as witnesses.
-All those who gave evidence were men, an’ most of
-’em friends o’ yours, at that. See here; look! I
-couldn’t exactly say how much you </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> know, but I
-can make a pretty good guess. There was a lot you
-couldn’t </span><em class="italics">help</em><span> but tumble to, which puts this case entirely
-outside the ordinary. Anyway, it doesn’t look
-as if you’d had much regard for your own nest.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He remained silent for a space then, his voice
-shaking ever so little:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’ve got no use for you, Churchill. I’m not
-stuck on you one little bit ... an’ I guess that feeling
-is reciprocated, for I can see the mark of my
-fist on your blooming dial right to this very minute.
-Mind you, though, I’m not blaming you in
-any way for </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> that’s happened. That’s out of the
-question—an’ it wouldn’t be logical, or fair. I’m
-not moralizing, either, for I reckon there’s too many
-‘glass-with-care’ labels on both of us to start slingin’
-rocks at each other—but all the same ... there’s
-</span><em class="italics">something</em><span> about this business I can’t forget ...
-an’ you know d—n well what that </span><em class="italics">something</em><span> is!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, opening the door, he strode out heavily, and
-banged it behind him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis, duly tried on the formal charge that had
-been laid against him, was honorably acquitted of
-all blame, and returned to duty. Later receiving
-the grant for his well-earned reward—half of
-which he, with the utmost difficulty, prevailed upon
-Musgrave to accept—he obtained ten days’ leave
-and, dragging the latter from his all-absorbing practise
-for that period, the two departed away up to
-the Kananaskis Falls on a fishing trip. The doctor
-insisted on paying all expenses in connection with
-this outing, and presented his companion with a
-magnificent English green-heart fly rod, which Ellis
-had often eyed longingly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Both men, possessing in a great degree the same
-morose, taciturn characteristics, they derived a certain
-grim pleasure in each other’s company and, loving
-and understanding the sport as only good fishermen
-can, it is needless to say that they had extraordinarily
-heavy catches and, in their silent, undemonstrative
-way, enjoyed themselves hugely.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Their time seemed all too short, however, and it
-was with a feeling of real regret that they finally
-struck camp and returned once more to the routine
-of their respective duties, vowing fervently to come
-again the following season. The Indian summer—that
-most beautiful and reliable period of the year in
-the Canadian West—gradually passed. November
-saw the first fall of snow, and from then onward
-the weather grew steadily colder as the icy grasp of
-winter began to grip the West.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Gradually the stock depredations in the Sergeant’s
-district grew more and more infrequent, until they
-practically ceased altogether for, by this time, men
-who had hitherto been inclined to step aside from
-the straight trail grew afraid of him. Afraid of
-that sneering, merciless tongue that stung them to
-the quick with its bitter venom—of the heavy hand
-that struck by night as well as day—and, of that
-scheming, cunning brain which, outclassing theirs in
-its superior knowledge of ways that are dark on the
-range, seemed to anticipate and forestall every
-crooked move that they made.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But, what dumbfounded them more than anything
-else, was the strange apparition of a great, brutal
-</span><em class="italics">heart</em><span> at the bottom of it all. There was Mrs. Laycock,
-they reflected, who had been burnt out in that
-last bad prairie fire, and whose husband he had
-been the means of sending to the penitentiary a short
-time before as an incorrigible horse thief. Had not
-Benton gone into her stable and, single-handed, taken
-out and hitched up that maddened team to the democrat,
-getting badly kicked in doing so? And, after
-driving the woman and her family safely out of the
-fire zone, returned and routed out every able-bodied
-man within its radius? and then, not sparing himself,
-worked them like galley slaves, trailing wet hides
-and flogging with gunny-sacks until they had got it
-under?</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>True, he had come around later with a subscription
-list in her aid, and a look on his face that
-seemed to work wonders with those parsimoniously
-inclined. But did not his own contribution on that
-occasion exceed by fourfold any one of </span><em class="italics">theirs</em><span>? even
-if the Government did not pay inordinately high
-salaries to members of the Force.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And Jim McCloud, too. Had not the Sergeant,
-at the imminent risk of his own life, pulled Jim out
-of that muskeg at Willow Mere one night? Jim
-was “full,” without a doubt; otherwise an old hand
-like him would never have got himself into such a
-jack-pot; but, all the same, he well-nigh followed his
-horse. Had not the Sergeant packed him across his
-saddle to the nearest ranch—worked over him until
-he came around and was all right—and then
-afterwards, cut short Jim’s surly thanks with the
-remark that “he had only saved him that he might
-have the satisfaction later of getting him where he
-wanted him”?</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Jim McCloud</em><span>, of all men. Jim, who had been
-ahead of them all in his bitter vilification of the
-new policeman and, avowedly, the latter’s worst
-enemy on the range. Only the </span><em class="italics">two</em><span> of them there at
-the muskeg ... evening, at that ... not another
-soul within sight or hearing. All the Sergeant
-needed to have done—if he had liked—was to
-sit in his saddle and just—</span><em class="italics">watch</em><span>.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Of what earthly use were all the many opportunities
-to rustle that showed up so invitingly at
-times while such a ruthlessly clever anomaly as he
-was stationed in the district? A man who seemed
-to possess endless disguises and hiding places and
-never to sleep; whose disquieting presence, supremely
-indifferent to weather conditions or darkness,
-was apt to upset all their calculations as to his
-whereabouts in a most sudden and undesirable fashion?</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>No—so long as </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> was around, it was not worth
-the while risking “a stretch in the ‘Pen,’” even if
-owners </span><em class="italics">were</em><span> a little lethargic and careless, at times,
-about getting their colts and calves branded. There
-must be “snitches” in their midst, “double-crossing”
-them, they argued darkly. </span><em class="italics">Must</em><span> be—otherwise
-whence had he obtained the knowledge that
-had led to the undoing of so many? And, as this
-disturbing possibility continued to gain credence, the
-seeds of mutual distrust and apprehension were sown
-broadcast amongst them which, needless to say, was
-greatly beneficial to the rest of the law-abiding community.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>If this altered state of affairs was highly satisfactory
-to Benton’s commanding officer it was even
-more so to the Stock Association, and the Sergeant
-was the recipient of many tributes of esteem and
-gratitude from that sterling body for the good work
-that he had done.</span></p>
-<div class="align-None container">
-<p class="center pnext"><span class="x-large">PART II</span></p>
-</div>
-<!-- -->
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xvi">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER XVI</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“I was a stranger, and ye took me in:”</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">St. Matt</span><span>. XXV, 35</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>The long, bright May day had drawn to a
-close, and darkness was setting in, through
-which a few faint stars had begun to twinkle.
-Ah, here was a light at last; and a welcome
-sight it was to the tired girl, leading an equally tired,
-fat, old gray horse as, topping a rise in the trail, she
-beheld the visible signs of a habitation gleaming in
-the distance.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Come on, Sam,” she coaxed cheerily, with a
-slightly impatient tug at the reins and quickening
-her pace. “We’ll soon be there, now, old boy, and
-you’ll get a good long drink and a feed!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Plodding wearily on, they stumbled over the ruts
-of a well-worn trail diverging at right angles from
-the one they were traversing, and which the girl instinctively
-took, guessing that it led to the dwelling
-whose beacon shone brighter and brighter with
-every nearing step.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly she pulled up short for, through a lull
-in the brisk night breeze—like an Æolian harp—there
-came to her astonished ears the unmistakable
-sounds of a piano. A fresh gust of wind carried
-it away next minute, though, and she moved forward
-again. Soon the shadowy outlines of a building
-became visible amid the surrounding gloom, and
-the music became distinct and real. Dropping the
-horse’s reins, the girl stepped slowly and carefully
-towards the light, thrusting out her hands with experienced
-caution as she did so, fearful of encountering
-the customary strands of a barbed-wire fence.
-Meeting with no such obstacle, she drew nearer to
-the open window, absently humming a bar of “The
-Bridal Chorus” from “Lohengrin,” which air the
-invisible pianist had, with masterly improvisations,
-just drawn to a close.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Then she halted, paralyzed for the moment with
-astonishment—all her own musical instincts fully
-aroused—as a man’s deep, rich baritone voice
-floated forth on the night air, singing a well-remembered
-song, but as </span><em class="italics">she</em><span> had never heard it sung before.
-And, though not of a particularly sentimental
-temperament, she found it impossible to listen to the
-beautiful words on this occasion unmoved:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>If I were hanged on the highest hill,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>I know whose love would follow me still,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Entranced, she stood motionless. Whoever could
-this unknown vocalist with the magnificent voice be,
-singing “Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine” in
-the wilderness? The slow, deep, ineffable pathos
-of its last verse thrilled and touched her strangely:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>If I were damned of body and soul,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>I know whose prayers would make me whole,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>As the song ended, she roused herself out of the
-dreamy reverie into which she had fallen and, moving
-forward again, peered through the window. But
-the light was between her and the singer and she
-could not see plainly. Retracing her steps, she approached
-the front entrance and knocked gently on
-the door. There came a crash of chords, a moment’s
-silence, then a firm, decided step sounded inside
-and the door was opened. She caught only the
-vague impression of a man’s form in the gloom, for
-the light was hidden from view in the back room;
-then a pleasant—unmistakably, a gentleman’s voice—with
-a slightly imperious ring in it said:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Good night, madam. Is anything the matter?
-Did you wish to see me?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’m—I’m afraid I’ve lost my way,” she answered.
-“I’m trying to get back to Mr. Trainor’s
-ranch. I’ve not been in this district very long and
-I’m—I suppose I’m what you call ‘a bit green’ as
-yet at finding my way about on the prairie,” she
-added merrily.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed at her last words. “So,” he said.
-“Seems a bit like it. Dave Trainor’s lies about
-seven miles nor’east of here. You’re riding, of
-course?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, yes,” she said plaintively. “But all the
-</span><em class="italics">decent</em><span> horses are away on the spring round-up, and
-the only one I could get was old Sam, and he’s </span><em class="italics">so</em><span>
-fat and lazy and slow. It’s too much like ‘working
-your passage’ with him. That’s the principal reason
-I’m out so late. I’d been to see Mrs. Goddard,
-at the Bow View ranch, and her husband told me of
-a trail which he said would be shorter than the one
-I came by. He wanted to ride back with me, but I
-was full of self-confidence and thought I could make
-it alone all right. Consequence is—here I am, ‘lost
-on the bald-headed,’ as they say. Poor old Sam’s
-pretty nearly played out for a drink and a feed—an’—an’
-so am I,” she continued frankly. “I’ve
-walked an awful long way to ease him, for I’m not
-exactly what you’d call a feather-weight.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Her humor was irresistible and infectious. “All
-right,” he said gaily. “You’ll find this a pretty
-rough roadhouse, I’m afraid, though. It’s the
-Mounted Police detachment, and I’m the Sergeant
-in charge. But—we’ll do what we can. You go
-on in, please, and make yourself at home. I’ll fix
-up your horse now, and get you some supper afterwards.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ten minutes or so later, he returned from the
-stable to find his guest sitting on the music stool in
-the inner room awaiting him. Exclamations of surprised
-mutual recognition escaped them as they saw
-each other for the first time in the light.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He beheld the same winsome face and the tall,
-athletic, majestically proportioned figure of the girl
-who had spoken to him and admired Johnny, his
-horse, one day the previous summer, as he was waiting
-outside Sabbano station while she, for her part,
-saw the stern, bronzed, scarred face and uniformed
-figure of the rider with whom she had conversed, and
-for which lapse she had, incidentally, been so severely
-censured by her aunt.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Now that he was at leisure to observe her closely
-he remarked her small, superbly carried head, surmounted
-with its thick masses of silky, shining, naturally
-curly, almost blue-black hair, and her face—which,
-though pleasing, healthy, and happy—could
-scarcely be called beautiful at first sight, since the
-cleft chin was too determined, and the mouth, with
-its humorous upward curl at the corners of the lips,
-too large and strong. Her brow was broad, low,
-and white, with thick, level eyebrows that matched
-the color of her hair. But it was her speaking, eloquent
-eyes which attracted him the most. They were
-of the very darkest hazel; one moment sleeping lazily
-under their long lashes, the next sparkling and
-snapping like the sunlight on a rippling stream as
-they reflected the constant lively and changeful play
-of their owner’s irrepressible emotions. A short
-Grecian nose, perfect teeth, and a pink-brown complexion
-that bespoke a love of a fresh air life completed
-the altogether charming personality of this
-interesting brunette.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She was attired in a well-worn khaki divided riding-skirt
-and a plain, white linen blouse, with a red
-silk scarf loosely knotted around her splendid columnar
-throat. Her feet—absurdly small for a
-woman of her generous build—were encased in
-high-heeled, spurred riding-boots; and as she sat
-there with an easy, self-possessed grace, a cow-girl’s
-Stetson hat tilted rakishly on her raven-hued, glossy
-hair, nonchalantly swinging a quirt in one of her
-fringed gauntlets, she presented a very alluring and
-delightful picture indeed. Plain, and almost coarse
-though her dress was, its simplicity only served to
-enhance the rounded outlines of her abnormally tall,
-classical, magnificent figure.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, well,” said the Sergeant. “This sure is
-a pleasure. Why, I might have known you again
-if only from your voice.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed with a deep, musical, mischievous
-chuckle, like a boy whose voice is breaking.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Same here,” she said, with emphasis. “Though
-I’ve never had the pleasure of hearing yours in song
-before. Why, you must be the Mounted Policeman
-I often hear Mr. Trainer speaking of? I
-never thought to connect you with the same man on
-the black horse that time last year.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Sure,” he answered, grinning. “Only I hope
-Dave doesn’t libel me as badly as some of ’em do,
-for I’m very sensitive. My name’s Benton—Sergeant
-Benton.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Her dark eyes flashed roguishly and, drawing off
-a gauntlet, she held out her hand with a frank, impulsive
-camaraderie and grasped his with a warm,
-strong clasp.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“My Good Samaritan,” she said simply. “I’m
-very glad to know you and, since introductions are
-going, suffice it to say </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> name’s O’Malley—Mary
-O’Malley—and I originally hail from New York.
-At present I’m companion to Mrs. Trainer, governess
-to her children—what you will.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded. “Well,” he said, “since you’ve
-been kind enough to confer the title of ‘Good Samaritan’
-on me, I must make good on the best this
-poor house can offer you.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And he bustled through into the kitchen. “No,
-no,” he protested laughingly, as she arose with an
-offer of help and made as if to follow him. “You
-be good, now, and stay right where you are. You
-may run things at Dave Trainer’s, but I won’t have
-you butting around </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> kitchen. Oh, I’m quite a
-competent cook, I can assure you.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She gave a little comical grimace of despair.
-“Oh, very well, then,” she said. “I’ll just stay here
-and sulk instead.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And she began to wander around the room, examining
-all his military accouterments, pictures, and
-curios, with a lively, almost childlike, interest, calling
-out from time to time “What this was for?”
-and “What that was?” etc. Then, suddenly seating
-herself at the piano, she lifted up a great, rollicking
-voice and, in an amusing, exaggerated Hibernian
-brogue, commenced to sing “Th’ Waking
-of Pat Malone”:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Thin—Pat Malone forgot that he wot dead—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>He raised his head and shouldthers from th’ bed;</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Which ditty tickled her host beyond measure as he
-continued his cooking operations.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Presently, tiring of the piano, she got up and, leaning
-in the doorway, regarded him with serious, appraising
-eyes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Man,” she said solemnly, “’tis th’ grand voice
-that ye have—singin’ away all on your lonesome.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, dropping the brogue, she quoted, to his intense
-amusement and surprise, a well-worn verse
-from “Omar Khayyám.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“So,” said Ellis, with a delighted chuckle, as the
-daring and utter absurdity of the quotation, under
-the circumstances, struck him, “it’s kind of you to
-suggest it. All the ingredients are at hand, too,
-except the ‘Flask of Wine,’ ‘Wilderness enow,’ particularly....
-Sorry about the Wine, though, after
-that compliment. Unfortunately, we’re strictly ‘on
-the tack,’ as we call it, just now. Oh, ‘Barkis is
-willin’,’ all right.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He cleared the books and papers off the table in
-the living-room and, spreading out the simple repast
-that he had prepared for her, drew up a chair.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Grub pi-i-ile!” she shrilled, in droll imitation
-of a camp cookee; and, seating herself, she attacked
-the frugal meal with a healthy appetite that fully
-demonstrated her previous admission that she was
-hungry.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Sorry I forgot to ask whether you’d have tea
-or coffee,” he said apologetically. “I’ve made you
-coffee.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, that’s all right,” she said carelessly. “I
-much prefer coffee. Thanks. My! but I’m hungry!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He sat down in one of the easy chairs opposite
-and, leaning his head back against the leopard skin,
-watched her with a lively and all-absorbing interest.
-Her complete self-possession and confidence, and the
-unconventional manner in which she proceeded to
-make herself entirely at home in the detachment,
-amused and astounded him. He remembered the
-impulsive, winning way that she had come over and
-spoken to him on the occasion of their first meeting.
-She was a new type to him and he realized that she
-was quite out of the ordinary.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She was not “mannish,” but there seemed to be a
-good deal of the irresponsible boy, as it were, left
-in her. She couldn’t be a strolling ex-actress, he reflected.
-The utter absence of coquetry, the fresh,
-healthy, open-air look of her, and the mention that
-she had made of the position she occupied at the
-Trainors’ immediately dispelled that idea. And besides,
-Dave Trainor’s wife was a lady-like, nice
-woman and—particular. He was a frequent and
-welcome caller at their ranch—knew them intimately.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>No, she was all right. Just a big, simple, jolly
-girl, well bred and educated; brought up, perhaps,
-amongst a host of brothers and their friends so,
-therefore, accustomed to masculine society, and most
-likely preferring it to her own sex. Mixing with
-them in their out-door sports—clean minded,
-healthy specimens like herself—daring, high spirited
-and impulsive, without being brazen and bold—funny,
-without being vulgar. Her manner, and
-clear, frank, honest eyes showed him that. Used
-to being teased and welcomed everywhere—clever,
-mirth loving, independent, self-reliant, kind and
-brave.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was thus that he mentally diagnosed the character
-of his fair guest. He was no vain, smirking
-Lothario, but he instinctively guessed how that strong
-mouth of hers could set, and those hazel eyes blaze
-and scintillate with dangerous anger at times; and
-that the man who was ill-advised and—ignorant
-enough—to ever make the foolish break of misconstruing
-her careless geniality for anything else </span><em class="italics">but</em><span>
-that, was only inviting disaster of the most ignominious
-and humiliating kind.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Her gaze flitted around the room continually as
-she appeased her appetite, and he was subjected to
-an exacting and minute inquisition anent the duties
-and life of a Mounted Policeman.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“And do they supply your detachments with
-pianos, too?” she inquired ingenuously. “Now,
-you needn’t laugh. I believe you’ve only been telling
-me a lot of nonsense. ‘I was a stranger, so you
-took me in.’ It’s too bad of you.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Honor bright, I haven’t,” he protested, with a
-grin. “I’ve told you the truth, the whole truth,
-and nothing but the truth. Pianos! Oh, my long-suffering
-Force. No, we get a pretty good outfit,
-but the Government don’t extend their generosity
-quite </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> far. This musical box belongs to the
-Honorable Percy Lake. He’s a rich Englishman
-who plays at ‘rawnching’ here—a ‘jolly boy,’ as
-we call ’em. His place is about five miles due west
-from here; it’s fitted up like a Fifth Avenue mansion.
-Oh, he’s no end of a swell. But it’s caddish
-of me to make fun of him, for he’s an awfully decent
-chap at heart, in spite of his lazy, fastidious
-ways, and a man—every bit of him. He’s away
-in California just now. He and his wife always flit
-South with the geese before the winter sets in, but
-they should be back any old time now. He was
-scared the punchers would ruin this piano if it was
-left to their tender mercies. It’s a pretty good one,
-I believe—a Broadwood. Had it shipped out
-from the Old Country and, as he knows I’m fond
-of music, he insisted on carting it over here. Kind
-enough, but whatever I’d do with it if I was transferred
-suddenly anywhere else, I don’t know. It’ll
-be a relief, in a way, when he redeems it.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He got up and poured her some more coffee, remarking
-a little anxiously:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I suppose the Trainors will be having a search
-party out for you, thinking something’s happened.
-Shouldn’t wonder but what Dave’s on his way down
-here right now to notify me.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, no; don’t you worry,” she said reassuringly.
-“I told them I </span><em class="italics">might</em><span> stay at the Goddard’s place for
-the night. I would have done so, only I found little
-Willy Goddard was sickening for measles and I
-didn’t want to take chances in my capacity of governess
-of probably passing it on to the Trainors’
-children—Bert and Gwyn. Not that I’m scared
-for myself—I’ve had it, years and years ago. Oh,
-the Trainors know I’m jolly well able to take care
-of my little self,” she added, with a slight suggestion
-of defiant challenge in her tones and look which
-stirred the fiery Benton blood in his veins strangely.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes, you just bet you are!” he ejaculated admiringly,
-as he appraised her strong, splendid figure.
-“You’re away taller than I am, and I
-shouldn’t wonder if you don’t </span><em class="italics">weigh</em><span> heavier, too.
-Riding keeps my weight down, though. I don’t
-suppose I go more’n a hundred and seventy-five; but
-that’s plenty heavy enough for a horse.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded carelessly. “Went one hundred and
-seventy-eight last week when I weighed myself on
-the grain scales—and I’m five feet ten and a half.
-Oh, Finnegan, that’s me!</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I had quite an adventure coming along,” she
-continued, with reflective gravity. “After I’d left
-the Goddards’ I came through a place away back on
-the trail there—I think it’s called ‘Fish Creek.’ I
-was passing by a bit of an old homestead—you
-couldn’t dignify it with the title of ‘ranch.’ There
-was a tumble-down old shack there, anyway, and as
-I came round the front of it—the trail bends there—I
-saw a funny little old man standing, or rather,
-leaning, in the doorway. He’d got a bottle in his
-hand and, oh! he </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> so tipsy—singing away like
-anything.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, as soon as he caught sight of me, he raised
-his bottle and shouted ‘’</span><em class="italics">Urroo!</em><span>’ I didn’t know
-what he was rejoicing about, but of course I shouted
-’Urroo! back. And then I suppose he intended to
-come over and speak to me, but the steps of his
-shack were broken and, oh, dear! he came such an
-awful tumble off his perch and smashed the bottle
-all to pieces.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis gave a shout of laughter. “Why, that must
-be old Bob Tucker,” he said. “He’s always getting
-‘lit up.’ Did he scare you?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The great, smiling girl arose and, dusting some
-crumbs off her lap, drew herself up to her full regal
-height and looked down upon him with pitying toleration.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Huh!” she ejaculated. But words cannot express
-the world of scornful amusement, derision, and
-incredulity that she put into the exclamation.
-“Scare nothing! the poor little, dirty old tipsy thing.
-I got off Sam and picked him up, and then I saw
-he’d cut one of his hands on the broken bottle. It
-was bleeding ever so badly, and a piece of the glass
-was still sticking in the cut. When he saw he’d
-lost all his whiskey he started to swear something
-awful—leastways I </span><em class="italics">think</em><span> it was swearing.... It
-sounded like it, but it was in a funny language I
-couldn’t understand. And then he began to cry.
-Oh, I </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> so sorry for him. I helped him up the
-steps into the shack, and got some water and washed
-his cut hand—then I tied it up with my handkerchief.
-All the time he kept whimpering: ‘Oh, gorblimey,
-it ’urts! it ’urts!’ And he kept calling me
-‘</span><em class="italics">intombi</em><span>.’ What’s that mean?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“It’s Zulu,” said Ellis. “It means ‘young
-woman.’ I guess he was swearing in Kaffir or the
-</span><em class="italics">Taal</em><span>. He’s an old Cockney, but he’s lived the best
-part of his life in South Africa.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well,” she continued, “after I’d fixed up his
-hand he stopped crying and commenced to shout:
-‘’Urroo! ’Urroo!’ again. And then he pulled a
-dirty old letter out of his pocket and began to tell
-me it was from ‘Jack ’Arper,’ who, he explained,
-was a friend of his son’s, somewhere down in Eastern
-Ontario. ‘’E tells me my b’y ’Arry’s </span><em class="italics">vrouw’s
-doed</em><span>!—gorn to ’eving!’ he says, in a screech you
-could pretty nearly hear to Sabbano. And it was
-awful the way he chuckled and grinned over it. Just
-as if it was some great joke. ‘An’ Jack, ’e says as
-’ow ‘Arry’s bin </span><em class="italics">dronk</em><span> ever since, but wevver it’s becos
-’e’s sorry, or becos ’e’s glad, w’y ’e don’t know....
-An’ ’e says as ’ow ’Arry wants me to come
-back Heast an’ live wiv ’im on th’ farm. An’ I’m
-a-goin’, too!’ he says. ‘I’ve sold aht this old plice—an’
-me stock—to Walter ’Umphries, an’ I’m
-a-goin’ to </span><em class="italics">trek</em><span> next week. ’Urroo! ’Urroo! ’ere
-goes nuthin’!’”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis, at this point, was convulsed with mirth; for
-her exact mimicry of old Tucker’s Cockney speech
-was startlingly natural and funny in the extreme.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The girl laughed with him, continuing: “He
-was stumbling about and waving his arms all the
-while he was telling me this joyful news, and he
-wanted to get me some supper but, ugh!... I
-simply couldn’t. The place and everything was so
-dirty—like a pigstye. I was glad to get away, and
-I left him standing on the broken steps waving his
-bandaged hand to me. The poor old thing! does he
-live there all alone?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I’ve been trying
-to get him to sell out and go and live with his
-son down East for a long time now. I’m glad to
-hear he’s going at last. He’s too old to live alone
-like that. His daughter-in-law was the obstacle.
-The reason I asked you if you were scared was because
-he’s got a playful way of flourishing a loaded
-rifle around sometimes when he gets on these toots.
-He put the fear into me properly one time, I remember.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A photograph, slightly yellow with age, in a splendid
-silver frame on the piano attracted her attention
-and, with an “Excuse me,” she crossed over
-and scrutinized it long and earnestly. It was the
-sweet, proud, regally beautiful face of a woman attired
-in an evening dress of the style worn in the
-early ’seventies. Ah! no need to tell her who </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>
-was! For, in spite of his mutilated ear and
-scarred, bronzed face, she recognized in the portrait
-the same regular, clean-cut features and steady eyes
-of the man who sat there silently watching her, with
-his head thrown out into strong relief against the
-leopard-skin kaross.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She glanced at him in mute inquiry, and back to
-the photograph again, instinctively guessing </span><em class="italics">now</em><span>
-whence the inspiration of that moving song had
-come which had been the means of arousing in her
-a greater interest in her host than she would perhaps
-have cared to admit.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“It’s my mother,” he said simply, interpreting
-her look. “She died when I was just a kid at
-school. A little over a year before I came out to
-the States.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>There was silence for awhile and presently he
-sprang up briskly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, now, I don’t want to hurry you, Miss
-O’Malley,” he said, “but we’ve got seven miles to
-go and it’s a quarter to eleven now. They’ll all have
-gone to roost at the Trainors’ long ago, I expect.
-I’m going to give you a </span><em class="italics">good</em><span> horse to ride ... the
-black fellow you liked so much.” (She gave a little
-exclamation of delight.) “The work began to pile
-up—there’s some awful long patrols to do here.
-It was too much for one horse, so I kicked for another
-and got it. I ride ’em turn about. There’s
-a good pasture at the back, with water, so when I
-go away for a few days I can always turn the spare
-one out. I’ll shove your saddle onto Johnny—he’s
-quiet—and I’ll ride Billy and trail old Sam
-alongside.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She thanked him prettily and gratefully for the
-hospitable entertainment accorded her and his kind
-offer of guidance.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, not at all; not at all,” he replied cheerily.
-“It’s the other way about, I’m thinking. You’ve
-quite livened things up around here. I’m a kind of
-a lonely beggar. You can’t think how I’ve enjoyed
-your company. Well, I’ll go and get those horses
-and we’ll hit the trail.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>To the lonely man that night ride to the Trainors’
-ranch with such an interesting companion seemed
-all too short, and but for the late hour and the fact
-of her being by now very tired, he could have wished
-the distance longer.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Everything was dark and still as they neared the
-ranch, until two huge coyote hounds hearing their
-approach ran out barking, and overwhelmed them
-with a boisterous welcome when they dismounted.
-Hitching the horses to the fence, Ellis swung open
-the hanging gate of the square, railed-in enclosure
-within which the ranch dwelling stood, and they
-walked slowly up the path. Aroused by the dogs,
-Trainor himself came out to meet them with a lighted
-lantern in his hand.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Hello, people!” was his hearty greeting.
-“What’s abroad? That you, Mary? Why, Sergeant,
-it’s you, eh? What’s this young lady been up
-to now? Is she under arrest?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Sure thing,” said Ellis, laughing. “I’m thinking
-of charging her with ‘vagrancy’—found her
-wandering around the prairie ‘riding the grub line.’”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Explanations followed, and Trainor led the way
-into the house. It was a comfortable, home-like,
-roomy dwelling, simply, but well and substantially
-furnished, with many splendid bear, deer, and other
-skins scattered around the painted hardwood floor in
-lieu of carpets, for Trainor had traveled considerably,
-and been a mighty hunter in former years.
-The well-stocked book shelves, the piano, and a few,
-but good, oil paintings and engravings that adorned
-the walls, seemed to imply that the owners were people
-of substance and refinement. Trainor was a
-tall, strongly-built man of fifty or thereabouts, with
-a heavy, fair mustache and a humorous, weather-beaten
-face. His speech, although slightly nasal,
-was that of an educated American, and his genial,
-kind-hearted personality created an instinctive liking
-with all who met him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was roughly dressed in a waistcoat, gray-flannel
-shirt, with blue overalls tucked into high riding-boots;
-for, apart from the fact that he was well-to-do,
-and one of the largest stock owners in the district,
-he was a worker himself, and liked to superintend
-the running of his ranch personally.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“The wife’s gone to bed long ago,” he said. “I
-was sitting up, reading, when I heard the dogs start
-in to yap. Why, Mary, my girl! I thought you said
-you were going to stay the night at the Goddards’?
-They’ve got the measles there, eh? Well, all’s
-well that ends well, thanks to Sergeant Benton, here.
-Trust you not to get left, anyway. You look pretty
-well played out, though. You’d better go to roost
-or you’ll be losing your good looks. Won’t she?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Impossible!” exclaimed the sergeant, with
-such fervent emphasis that a faint blush arose on the
-girl’s rather tired face, as she thanked him again and
-bid him “Good-night.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He chatted awhile with Trainor, who had hospitably
-produced a bottle of whiskey, and presently
-got up and prepared to depart, refusing the latter’s
-invitation for him to stay the night.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Can’t chance it tonight, Dave,” he said. “I’m
-anticipating the arrival of one of our officers—Inspector
-Purvis. He’s about due here, visiting detachments,
-and I don’t want to be away when he
-comes. Thanks, all the same! No, you needn’t
-come out. I’ll off-saddle and fix up old Sam. So
-long.”</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xvii">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER XVII</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Of lovers she had a full score,</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>Or more,</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>And fortunes they all had galore,</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>In store;</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>From the minister down</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>To the clerk of the Crown,</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>All were courting the Widow Malone,</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>Ohone!</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>All were courting the Widow Malone.</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">Charles Lever</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>In spite of his morose and surely somewhat fantastic
-constancy, which obsession, be it remarked,
-he was rather prone to exaggerate than minimize,
-and the bitter, hopeless philosophy with which
-he had come to regard his single and seemingly inevitable
-lot, it must be admitted that Ellis found his
-mind subconsciously reverting on many occasions
-during the next few weeks to the girl who had so
-unconventionally invaded his bachelor quarters.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes, begad! there </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> a strong fascination about
-her,” he soliloquized. She was so totally different
-to any other woman who had come into his lonely
-life. Several times, too, he found this same compelling
-influence answerable for his change of direction
-as he found himself absently swinging off the
-main trail north into the one that diverged east and
-led to the Trainors’ ranch where, by now, he had
-come to be regarded as a regular and welcome visitor.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The girl, on her part naturally enough, was by no
-means oblivious to the reason of his frequent calls,
-though she always greeted him with her customary
-careless, wide-eyed geniality, their acquaintance by
-now having ripened into the intimacy of teasing,
-playful badinage, at which pastime, needless to say,
-both of them excelled.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With an innate delicacy that was only natural
-and instinctive in one come of his gentle birth and
-early breeding, he had forborne from ever asking
-her the reason that she was occupying the comparatively
-humble position of governess, lady companion,
-or—as she herself had put it—“what you will,”
-on a ranch. It puzzled him. When he had first
-met her the year previous she was then apparently
-traveling in state, plainly, although richly, dressed,
-with an elderly aunt, who—her disagreeable and
-snobbish manner notwithstanding—distinctly radiated
-every indication of imposing worldly affluence.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Anyway, those were the impressions that he had
-formed in the brief glimpse afforded him of the two
-ladies on that occasion. On this head he one day
-casually sounded Dave Trainor, as the two of them
-lounged in the stable talking cattle and horse, preparatory
-to the Chinese cook’s shrill summons of
-“Glub pl-i-i-ile!” heralded with the customary
-knuckle tattoo on an inverted dishpan. Trainor,
-with a slight touch of reminiscent garrulity—a mannerism
-of his—and with his usual preface:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now, see here; look! I’ll tell you how that is,
-Sergeant,” proceeded to enlighten him. “I’ve
-known that girl,” he began, “and all her family for
-many years back—ever since she was a little slip
-of a kid, in fact. I started out in life as a mining
-engineer. That’s my real profession, though I’ve
-been in the ranching business now for twenty years
-or more. It must have been in ’seventy-four, or
-thereabouts, when I first met her father—Terence
-O’Malley—in New York. He was a mining stockbroker
-then, and being more or less mixed up in
-the same class of business, we drifted together and
-became pretty chummy. He was a typical harum-scarum
-Irishman out of Ireland. One of those lovable,
-brilliant kind of ducks—the life and soul of
-whatever company he was in. A regular ‘Mickey
-Free.’ Of good birth and education, clever and
-shrewd in his business, but a proper gambler at
-heart, and impulsive and changeable as the wind.
-She’s very like him in many ways—got all his impulsiveness,
-witty humor and brogue, but without his
-selfishness and improvidence. Oh, he was sure some
-high flier, O’Malley. Made fortunes in one day—lost
-’em the next. You know the way they run
-amuck on the Stock Exchange? He married a New
-York girl—think her name was Egan. Anyway,
-</span><em class="italics">she</em><span> was of Irish extraction, too. This girl—Mary—is
-the eldest of the family. She’s got four
-brothers, but they all came some years later—there’s
-quite a space in between her and them.
-Somehow another they were all brought up and received
-pretty fair educations. The boys have got
-decent enough positions in various parts of the
-States—able to keep themselves now, at all events.
-They’re good kids enough, but inclined to be a bit
-wild—possess a lot of the characteristics of their
-old man. He died about three years ago—of disappointment
-and shock, when the final crash came
-in his fortunes. I guess his heart was weak.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“It was a queer household, theirs, as you can
-imagine, with the fluctuating nature of the father’s
-income—and he was one of those who never
-dreamt of laying by for a rainy day. Yes, </span><em class="italics">sir</em><span>! I
-tell you there were hard struggles at times in that
-family. One week—on ‘Easy Street.’ The
-next—‘broke to the wide’—unable to pay the
-rent. O’Malley’s wife had died in giving birth to
-the last boy and afterwards, all through their ups
-and downs, that girl kept things as straight as she
-could. She was a regular mother to the boys in
-those days—has been all along. They’d have all
-gone to the devil long enough ago if it hadn’t been
-for her. She’s twenty-eight now, though she don’t
-look it. After her father died, she went to live with
-an aunt of hers—a Mrs. Gorman, of Philadelphia.
-She’s sure got the ‘rocks,’ all right, but I guess she’s
-about as disagreeable an old party as you could find.
-You’ve seen her, you say?” (Ellis nodded grimly.)
-“Well, her acquaintance doesn’t belie her face. I
-don’t know how on earth Mary stuck to her for so
-long. It was a case of ‘nowhere else to go,’ I
-guess, poor girl, and she’s very patient. Must have
-had a hard time of it, from what little she’s told us.
-She isn’t the bewailing sort that cry their troubles
-abroad to all and sundry they meet, but I suppose
-it got too thick for even her to stand any longer, so
-she decided to cut loose from ‘Aunty.’ She wrote
-to the wife, asking her if she knew of any position
-that she could earn her own living at over on this
-side. So that’s how it is she’s here, looking after
-Bert and Gwyn. Those kids just worship her.
-Seems she prefers this fresh air life to an office job.
-You might know that, anyway, by the look of her.
-I tell you, I respect and admire that girl, Benton.
-Hello! was that ‘Grub pile!’ just went? Come on
-in, or we’ll be getting a scolding for being late.”</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
-</div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Slowly but, nevertheless surely, as the weeks, and
-gradually months, went by, and their intimacy increased,
-the inevitable happened to Ellis and Mary;
-for mere platonic friendship between two individuals
-of their warm-blooded natures was impossible amidst
-such surroundings, and by imperceptible degrees
-their mutual interest and liking for each other had
-developed into a stronger feeling.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But still Ellis wavered. For the pessimistic ideas
-that he held regarding a Mounted Policeman’s general
-life, insufficient pay, and hazardous occupation—in
-the non-commissioned ranks, anyway—rendering
-him unfit for marriage ties, continued to
-obsess him and slightly warp his ordinarily generous,
-impulsive nature. The habits of years are not
-easily broken, and long companionship with Musgrave
-had not tended to mitigate his views. Since
-the death of his first love he had, in a great degree,
-held aloof from women’s society, keeping a tight
-curb on himself and rigidly repressing all his emotions.
-In whatever few convictions he possessed
-regarding the grand passion he was an idealist, and
-wedded bliss in the form of the average smug,
-thrifty marriage of convenience—contracted usually
-by the man of meager or moderate means—did not
-appeal to him at all.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Whether or not the girl reciprocated his affection
-a characteristic lack of vanity precluded his knowing,
-for as yet there had been no love passages between
-them to warrant his believing so. He thought
-she liked, and was not altogether indifferent to him,
-and that was all.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It is not to be supposed that he was entirely alone
-in his attentions to that debonair young woman.
-Her sex were not over numerous in the neighborhood,
-and she was therefore distinctly attractive to the various
-bachelors—young, middle-aged, and old—who
-resided within a twenty-mile radius of the Trainors’
-establishment. Thus it may be inferred that
-she did not lack suitors, many of them admittedly
-eligible as regards their possession of worldly goods—a
-fact which Ellis forcibly realized at times,
-when the bitter consciousness of his own limited
-means and prospects would come home to him with
-cruel intensity.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But the strong, sane, logical mind of the man predominated,
-and he kept himself well in hand. They
-had the prior right, he argued; for, plain and homely
-though most of them might be, they didn’t hang
-fire like him, anyway. They were in the position
-to give the girl a better home than he could ever
-hope to offer her. He would therefore be no “dog-in-the-manger”
-to stand in their way, he decided.
-So, whenever he chanced to find one of these would-be
-suitors ahead of him in the field, he always
-promptly excused himself and withdrew; which policy
-of self-effacement, be it remarked, piqued poor
-Mary not a little.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was not exactly made of the stuff that
-calculating, luke-warm, cautious lovers are prone to be
-composed of, but the fires of jealousy had once
-scorched him pretty severely and the memory of the
-lively torment that he had endured in those miserable
-days was still too vivid in his recollection to
-risk a possible repetition of that dread disease.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He need have had no fear. One and all—irrespective
-of age, wealth, or appearance, she treated
-them with the same laughing impartiality, rendering
-to each the same answer. In kindly fashion at that,
-too, for she realized only as a dowerless spinster can,
-that the well-meaning, earnest love of an honest man
-is not a thing to be contemptuously cast aside or
-scoffed at. As often as not Ellis, nearing the Trainors’
-ranch, with the intention of paying a visit, would
-chance to observe one of these rejected, love-lorn
-swains galloping or driving away in eccentric haste;
-and, hopelessly in love though he himself was, that
-fact did not, however, totally eclipse his sense of
-humor.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was only human, and the sight of a discomfitted
-rival beating an ignominious retreat—or as
-he (Ellis) put it—“chasing himself over the bald-headed,”
-was too irresistibly funny a spectacle to
-prevent a surly chuckle escaping him. And, postponing
-his intended visit just then, from motives of
-delicacy, he would ride on his way, in all probability,
-rejoicing.</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xviii">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER XVIII</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>She’d come again, and with a greedy ear</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Devour up my discourse:</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">Othello: Act</span><span> I, </span><span class="small-caps">Sc</span><span>. 3</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>One glorious September afternoon, appreciating
-the girl’s fondness for riding Johnny,
-Ellis rode over to the Trainors’, leading his
-favorite mount. Entering the house, he received the
-usual kindly welcome from the rancher and his wife;
-the latter a stoutish, jolly-looking woman with a
-great mass of fair, fluffy hair—some years her
-husband’s junior.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, well,” she said, looking up at him with
-playful amusement. “And where, </span><em class="italics">sir</em><span>, have </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>
-been hiding yourself lately? We’d begun to think
-you must have fallen down a gopher hole or something.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He walked through into the kitchen and drank a
-dipperful of water thirstily, before he answered.
-Returning, he grinned significantly at his hostess.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“All right, let it go at that, Mrs. Trainor,” he
-replied. “Here, Gwyn!” he continued, slewing
-around and catching hold of that little blonde seven-year-old
-fairy, “where’s Miss O’Malley?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Shan’t tell you!” came the mutinous giggle.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, yes, you will,” he said, tickling her.
-“Come on, now; you tell, or I’ll—I’ll take you out
-and put you right on top of the barn for that big
-sparrow-hawk to come and get! He likes little
-girls like you. One! Two!—are you going to
-tell me—?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes, yes!” came the smothered squawk. “Pu-put
-me down, though. She—she’s drying her hair
-in the sun back of the house,” she whispered gravely.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Is she? Well, you go and tell her I want her,”
-he whispered back. “Run like anything.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, she’ll come quick enough when she knows
-you’ve got Johnny for her to ride,” remarked
-Trainor, smiling. “She won’t look at that Pedro
-horse of mine so long as </span><em class="italics">he’s</em><span> around. Say!” he
-broke off. “Bert’s sure getting to be some marksman,
-ain’t he? He’ll be running you pretty close
-when he gets older, Sergeant. Look at that, now!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>These remarks were occasioned by the entrance of
-a sturdy youngster of nine, who was proudly dangling
-the carcasses of half a dozen fat gophers.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No, no, Bert! You mustn’t bring them in
-here!” cried his mother sharply. “Take them outside
-and give them to Tom and Jerry!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Hugging a small “twenty-two” rifle and his dead
-gophers, the boy gave a roguish grin at Ellis and
-departed, followed by two huge mewing tomcats.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Little brutes were just ruining the garden,” said
-Trainor, “so I put Bert onto them. He’s just having
-the time of his life with that new gun I bought
-him.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis, seating himself at the piano with an assurance
-that bespoke long familiarity in that kindly,
-homelike household, began to idly strum. “Come,
-Lasses and Lads,” with a whistling accompaniment.
-Suddenly a shadow darkened the open door, and a
-mischievous voice greeted him with:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Hello, ‘Mancatcher’! What brings you here
-this late along? We’d begun to think something
-had happened to you.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With her great, shimmering, glorious mass of
-glossy black hair rippling and tumbling about her
-teasing, slightly sunburnt face, Mary looked like a
-girl of eighteen. And as she stood there, with her
-superb figure drawn up to its full height, she made
-a picture that aroused the Sergeant’s slumbering
-passion anew with increased fervor.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But his well-trained visage and voice evinced nothing
-of his feelings as he returned her pleasantry with,
-an answering careless:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why, hello, ‘Mousetrap’! Comin’ for a
-ride?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Trainor exploded with bubbling mirth.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why, why! whatever new nicknames are these?
-You two’ll be forgetting what your real names are altogether
-soon. I never heard such nonsense.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“It isn’t, Mrs. Trainor,” said Ellis aggrievedly.
-“It’s just </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>—mice! I found her busy catching
-’em in one of the oat bins in the stable the other
-day. She just catches and plays with ’em—lets ’em
-run, then grabs ’em again.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Huh!” said the girl contemptuously. “That’s
-nothing! I’m not afraid of mice. Poor little
-things. Besides, I had gauntlets on.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No,” said Ellis slowly, with a mocking chuckle,
-“it’d take more than a mouse to scare </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>—we
-know that! Come! I’ll trade you aliases. </span><em class="italics">I</em><span>
-haven’t caught a man for over two months now.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His mischievous meaning was only too obvious,
-and the girl colored to her laughing eyes, grabbing,
-next instant, a ball of wool from Mrs. Trainor’s
-lap, which she shied at him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton, dodging this missile, gazed piercingly at
-her for several seconds without moving a muscle of
-his face; then, suddenly swinging around on the
-music-stool, he brought down his hands with a crash
-of chords and, in a great rollicking voice and a broad
-Somersetshire dialect, commenced to sing a bucolic
-love ditty. Something that went:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“Vor if yeou conzents vor tu marry I now,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Whoy—Vather ’e’ll gie uns ’is old vat zow!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>With a rum dum—dum dum—dubble dum day!”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>“Boo-o-oo! La, la, la!” shrilled poor Mary,
-covering her ears. “Oh, </span><em class="italics">please</em><span>, Mrs. Trainor, </span><em class="italics">do</em><span>
-make him stop!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What’s the use, my dear?” cried that merry
-dame, in great amusement. “He wouldn’t listen
-to me. He’s too impudent for anything.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>While Trainor slapped his thigh and guffawed
-uproariously.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, oh!” screamed the girl, stamping and pirouetting
-about the room, “he’s starting </span><em class="italics">another</em><span>
-verse! Oh, quit, quit, quit! or </span><em class="italics">I’ll</em><span> start in opposition!
-I’ll make such a noise they won’t be able to
-hear you!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And at the top of her voice she started to declaim
-lustily:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“Arrah, go on! You’re only tazin!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Arrah, go on! You’re somethin’ awful!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Arrah, go on! You’re mighty plazin!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Oh, arrah go way! go wid yer! go way! go on!”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>“That settles it,” shouted Ellis, jumping up.
-“I’ll sure give in to </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>. Peccavi! I’ll chuck up
-the sponge. But you be good after this now, or
-I’ll sing you some </span><em class="italics">more</em><span> ‘Zummerzet.’ Don’t
-bother about getting your hair done up again, Miss
-O’Malley. It looks ‘Jake’ like that. Just tie a
-bit of red ribbon round. Come on; go and get your
-riding things on. Johnny’s feeling pretty good—hasn’t
-been out for three days now.”</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
-</div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>“Oh, my, but that’s great!” gasped Mary ecstatically,
-half an hour later, as they pulled their excited,
-eager horses up to a walk, after a perilous
-neck-and-neck gallop, supremely careless of whatever
-badger-holes lay in their course on the long,
-flat stretch. “Aha, Johnny, old boy! you sure do
-like to be let out for a run, don’t you?” she continued
-caressingly, as she patted the arched, swelling
-neck of the great springy beast under her who, with
-a network of quivering, hard, grain-fed muscles rippling
-beneath his smooth, black-satiny coat, sidled
-and paced with daintily uplifted forefeet. The
-powerful animal carried his substantially-built rider
-as if she were only a child, flattening his ears and
-biting with equine playfulness meanwhile at Billy,
-the big, upstanding, well-coupled-up bay that Ellis
-was riding.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, whither away?” he inquired. “Where
-shall we go? Gosh, but it’s hot!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Let’s go up on the top of that big hill over to
-the west there—where that flat stone is,” she said,
-indicating a high, conical hill, something like a South
-African </span><em class="italics">kopje</em><span> that loomed up in the distance. “I
-always call it ‘Lone Butte’ because it’s all by itself.
-It’s cooler up there, and we can lazy around and
-look at the mountains.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Half an hour’s ride over steadily rising ground
-brought them to their destination and, arriving at
-the foot of the aforesaid butte, they dismounted and,
-leaving their horses to graze, with dropped lines,
-slowly made the ascent. There, on the extreme top,
-a relic of some vast upheaval in the past, was a
-huge, long, low-lying flat stone, upon which Mary
-seated herself and, removing her Stetson hat, let the
-cool breeze play on her forehead and blow the
-shining tendrils of hair about her face. Ellis flung
-himself out at full length on the short turf at her
-feet and together they silently gazed in huge contentment
-at the panorama that lay unfolded before
-them.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Below, looking east, shimmering with the little
-heat waves, the long rolling vistas of greenish-brown
-prairie lay stretched out to the horizon, through
-which, like a gleaming silver thread, wound the Bow
-River; while to the west, above the pine-dotted
-foothills of a great Indian Reserve, rose the upflung,
-snow-capped violet peaks of the mighty
-“Rockies,” the hot afternoon’s sun enveloping all
-in its sleepy golden haze.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant, with his chin resting in his hands,
-looked long and lovingly at the peaceful beauty of
-the scene.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Begad, just look at </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> now!” he murmured.
-“No wonder a fellow loves an open-air life in the
-West ... there’s a picture for some poor beggar
-that’s p’r’aps cooped up in an office all day, what? ... just
-the kind of background Charley Russell
-always manages to get into his pictures, isn’t it?
-To my mind he and Remington are the only artists
-who can depict the prairie and its life properly—</span><em class="italics">they</em><span>
-don’t slur over detail like some of ’em. No
-matter whether it’s landscape, Indians, cow-punchers,
-horses, cattle, hunting scenes, gun-scraps, or
-what not, they give you the real thing—correct in
-every item. </span><em class="italics">That’s</em><span> what hits us who live </span><em class="italics">in</em><span> such
-backgrounds. They not only make you </span><em class="italics">see</em><span> it on,
-canvas, they positively make you </span><em class="italics">feel</em><span> it.... Well,
-Charley Russell ought to know, if any man!...
-he punched cattle and wrangled horses for a living—long
-before he ever thought of painting!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>A gopher popped up its head out of a hole a few
-feet away from Benton and, after blinking inquisitively
-awhile with its beady brown eyes at the two
-human beings who remained so still, it apparently
-decided that there was nothing to fear from them
-and emerged fully from its retreat. With tucked-in
-paws, it sat bolt upright and regarded them with
-grave interest.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis eyed the rodent indolently for a space; then,
-reaching cautiously to his hip, he half drew a deadly-looking
-“Luger” pistol from its holster—to
-which previously mentioned confiscated weapon sinister
-memories were attached. The girl saw his
-movement and involuntarily thrust out a protesting
-hand.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No, no!” she said, in a loud eager whisper.
-“Don’t shoot the poor little chap—it isn’t as if he
-was in the garden. ‘Live, and let live,’ you know.
-Oh, you </span><em class="italics">nasty</em><span> thing!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>As the Sergeant, laughing quietly, in lazy acquiescence,
-jerked his gun home again and, instead, spat
-with unerring aim on the gopher’s fat back, which
-insult caused it to dive instantly into its hole again.
-For a long time they remained silent, drinking in the
-fresh air; then the girl who, with elbows-in-lap, was
-leaning forward absently swinging her quirt, flicked
-her abstracted companion playfully.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Come! don’t go to sleep,” she said. “A dime
-for your thoughts, O man of many moods! You
-look like Hamlet watching the play—lying gazing
-away there.... Wake up and talk to me, sir!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis, who lay stretched out with his back, turned
-to her, rolled over and looked up into the long-lashed,
-half mocking, half serious hazel eyes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“‘Hamlet’!” he echoed, with an amused chuckle.
-“And pray what have </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> done to deserve the honor
-of being likened unto ‘the melancholy Dane,’ kind
-lady? ‘Wot shall I tork abaht?’ as old Bob Tucker
-would say. ‘Bid me discourse—I will enchant
-thine ear!’—à la ‘Baron Munchausen.’”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No, don’t be foolish,” she said beseechingly.
-“Can’t you be serious for once in a while, please?
-I don’t feel in the mood for any ‘Munchausen’
-nonsense </span><em class="italics">just</em><span> now. Confine yourself strictly to the
-truth on this occasion. Just tell me </span><em class="italics">who</em><span> you are—where
-you came from—and what you’ve done for
-your living ever since you can remember! There,
-now, you’ve got your orders in full ... fire away!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis gave a dismal whistle. “Pretty big order
-on short notice,” he said. “If you expect me to fill
-all that, extempore, I’ll have to limit it to a synopsis.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>There was, undoubtedly, a strong fascination about
-Benton, and few there were of either sex who came
-into contact with him that did not fall under the
-spell of his personal magnetism. The dry humor he
-emitted at times, and the utter absence of self-consciousness
-or vanity in his quiet, forceful personality,
-may have accounted for this in a great measure.
-Also, in a simple, direct fashion, he could “talk
-well”; and when he chose to exert himself, or was
-in the mood, could be a most interesting companion
-as a raconteur, drawing upon a vast reserve of experiences
-accumulated during his stirring, eventful,
-wandering life.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The quiet peace of his surroundings were conducive
-to such a mood just now and, as the girl
-adroitly drew him on, he responded, and talked of
-his past life as perhaps he had never done to man
-or woman before. Those who love make good listeners
-and, as Mary, sitting there, heard with an
-all-absorbing interest of his strange ups and downs,
-trials, hopes, and adventures, she gained a vivid and
-lasting impression of the career of a strong man who,
-early in life, had cut himself adrift from kith and
-kin; glimpsing something of the real, deep, complex
-nature of this careless soldier of fortune who,
-all unconsciously, had won her heart long ago.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His story began with his early schoolboy recollections.
-The unhappy period following his mother’s
-death, and his final emigration to the United States;
-then passed on, fantastically, through innumerable
-chops and changes of life. It told of a wild, haphazard
-existence in camps, and on the range in Montana
-and Wyoming, the lure of the gaming table, and
-the companionship with men of nearly every
-nationality under the sun. Desperate ventures in bubble
-speculations that either broke or made the investors,
-of chances missed by the merest margin of time and
-travel. It touched on all the phases of his pugilistic
-career, his later adventures on the South African
-veldt and memories of the great war. He described
-his return from that unquiet land, how he had eventually
-joined the Mounted Police, the years that had
-followed in that Force, and some of the various
-cases that had brought him his third stripe. Sometimes
-on foot, more often on horseback, now fairly
-prosperous, now poor, in and out, back and forth,
-chore boy, cookee, bronco-buster, pugilist, Chartered
-Company’s servant, Irregular soldier, and finally
-Mounted Policeman, moved Ellis Benton, taking his
-chance honestly and bravely in the great game of
-Life.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>All this he related without bravado, deprecating
-false modesty or extravagant gesture, and the simple,
-earnest manner in which he told his life’s story
-caused the great, generous heart of the listening girl
-to go out to him in a wave of love and sympathy—the
-outward expression of which she had difficulty in
-controlling.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Gradually, however, his mood changed, and the
-trend of his experiences veering from the hard-bitten
-facts of ordinary police duty to the more humorous
-occurrences that from time to time vary its red-tape-bound
-monotony, he recounted several laughable episodes
-in which he had been involved at different
-periods. The relation of these tickled the girl’s imagination
-greatly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” he said musingly. “We do get up
-against some funny propositions at times, that any
-one who’s blessed in the least degree with the saving
-sense of humor can’t help but appreciate. If it
-wasn’t for these occasional little happenings our life
-would be pretty dull. I remember one time”—he
-checked himself, with a laugh. “Bah! I’m yarning
-away like an old washerwoman full of gin and
-trouble.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Will you go on?” Mary said, leaning towards
-him with dancing eyes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The thrill in her voice—strangely contagious it
-was—told how much she was interested. It was
-not to be wondered at. There was only one man on
-earth for whom she really cared—he lay stretched
-before her then, and probably what attracted her
-most in him was his manly simplicity and the sincerity
-of his tones and expression which, somehow,
-always had the knack of carrying absolute conviction
-with them in the narration of even the most
-trivial story.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well,” Ellis went on, “I was on Number Thirteen—south-bound—one
-day, about eighteen
-months back, I guess, returning to my line detachment
-at Elbow Vale. As we pulled away from Little
-Bend—the first stop—the Con’ came into the car
-I was in with a wire in his hand. ‘Benton,’ he said.
-‘Anybody here by that name?’ I was in mufti—had
-been on a plain-clothes job. ‘Right here!’ I
-said, and opened it up. It was from the O.C., and
-as far as I can remember, ran something like this:
-‘Definite information just to hand. Arthur Forbes
-escaped Badminton Penitentiary; is on No. 13;
-forty-five; weight, one hundred and ninety; five feet
-ten; thick black eyebrows; hook nose; triangular scar
-top bald head; dress unknown; search train thoroughly;
-arrest without fail, signed R. B. Bargrave.’</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“It wasn’t much of a description to work on, but
-I realized it was a hurry call and was very likely all
-the O.C. had been able to get. It was up to me to
-make good somehow. So I started in to investigate
-that train with a fine-tooth comb, and I put the
-Con’ wise, too. It’s only a short train—the Southbound—and
-I thought I’d have an easy job locating
-my man if he was on it. I sauntered casually
-through, from end to end, and sized all the passengers
-up. There was only one who came anything
-near the description I’d had given me. Beggar was
-a parson at that, too. I passed him up for the time
-being, and when we stopped at Frampton, I and the
-Con’ made a pretty thorough search of the tender,
-baggage, and mail coaches—also the rods underneath
-the whole length of the train. Nothing doing,
-though, so we got aboard again. Then we ransacked
-every cubby hole we could think of. Nothing
-doing again there, either. I began to figure I
-was up against a hard proposition, or that p’r’aps he
-wasn’t </span><em class="italics">on</em><span> the train at all. But the wire read so
-positive, and our O.C. isn’t the man to send you
-on a wild goose chase. Besides, I hated to think
-this gink might slip it over on me after all, and make
-his get-away.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Consequence was—I only had this parson to
-fall back on. I was only two seats back from him,
-so I could watch him good. He was a big, stout,
-broad-shouldered chap about the height and weight
-of the description, all right; clean-shaved and very
-pale, with a hook nose and thick black eyebrows, too.
-Didn’t fancy, somehow, that his expression and the
-cut of his jaw was exactly in keeping with his clerical
-dress—and his hair—what little I could see of it
-under his shovel hat—was pretty short. But there!
-you can’t always judge a man by his personal appearance.
-It isn’t wise or fair. Though honestly—I
-tell you, Miss O’Malley, I </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> seen parsons before
-now with faces tough enough to get them six months—without
-the option of a fine—just on sight. I
-casually moved up to the seat alongside his, on the
-other side of the aisle, where I could keep good tab
-on him. He’d got some magazines and two or three
-clerical papers—</span><em class="italics">The Pulpit</em><span>, </span><em class="italics">The Clerical Review</em><span>,
-etc., that he seemed very interested in, and I began
-to think what ridiculous nonsense it was for me ever
-for an instant to associate </span><em class="italics">him</em><span> in my mind with an
-escaped convict on the mere coincidence of his answering
-a vague description. While all this was
-running in my head something happened which
-caused me to change my mind a bit and feel kind
-of uneasy and suspicious of my Reverend ‘Nibs.’</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“All the way from Frampton, the whole bunch
-of us in the car—with the exception, of course, of
-the divine—had been in turn amused and annoyed
-at the antics of a bleary-eyed-looking bohunk who’d
-come aboard there with a bottle of ‘Seagram’s’
-rye sticking out of his pocket. He’d got a proper
-singin’ jag on, and every now and again he’d pull
-out his bottle and whet his whistle. Might have
-been anything from a camp cookee to a section hand
-out on a ‘toot.’ </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don’t know what the beggar was.
-Anyhow, getting tired of sitting still and singing on
-his lonesome, he comes zig-zagging up the aisle,
-pitching cheerfully into some one’s lap at every lurch
-of the train. The last lap he hit happened to be this
-parson’s, who shoved him off disgustedly, and drew in
-the hem of his garments, so to speak, all same Pharisee
-and Publican. The way he did it got that drunk
-goin’ properly—made him pretty nasty. So he
-gets back at the parson by pulling out his bottle and
-offering him a drink right then and there. Of course
-that fetched a great big ignorant laugh out of the
-whole lot of us, watching this Punch and Judy show.
-Parson never let on, though—kept his face on one
-side, staring out of the window. Well, the drunk,
-seeing his offer of a nip was turned down, takes one
-himself and, swaying all over the place, puts his
-hand on the parson’s knee and looks up into his face.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“‘Sh-shay, Mister!’ he says, as solemn as an owl.
-‘</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don’t believe in Heaven!’</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Of course we all started in to grin again, and
-the parson looked like a proper goat. But still he
-took no notice—kept as mum as you please, though;
-I guess if it’d been </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>, that drunk’d have got a back
-hander across the mouth and kicked off the train
-by the Con’ at the next station.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Beggar got tickled with the fun he was causing,
-and he kept on repeating this conviction of his over
-and over again like a parrot; but, as the parson took
-not a bit of notice, he shut up for a bit and dozed off
-to sleep—much to our relief. We were getting a
-bit fed up with him. Then it was ‘Mister’ Parson
-made a darned bad break. He began fumbling in
-his pockets for something—a penknife, if I remember—to
-cut the leaves of a magazine. Well, his
-gloves seemed to hamper him, so he took them off
-and I got a good look at his hands. They—like
-his mug—didn’t fit in with his dress at all. Pretty
-rough-looking mitts, that it was very evident had
-recently done heavy manual work—all grimed up,
-with black broken nails and hard callosities on the
-palms.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Still I hung fire—for </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> cloth always demands
-a certain amount of respect. He </span><em class="italics">might</em><span> have been
-working in his garden, I argued to myself. I didn’t
-want to make any fool break by humiliating a, p’r’aps,
-perfectly innocent man and a gentleman on mere
-suspicion, and without any positive proof. While
-I was twisting things over in my mind, the brakeman
-came through, calling: ‘Baker’s Lake! Baker’s
-Lake!’ And presently the train began to
-slow down. Parson began to gather all his belongings
-together as if he was going to get off there. I
-was ‘between the devil and the deep sea’—properly.
-For it was a case of ‘Going! going!’ and the
-next minute it’d be ‘Gone!’ with me, p’r’aps, for
-the goat instead of him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“But just then Providence, in the shape of the
-drunk, settled all my doubts for me at the eleventh
-hour. The brakeman calling out the name of the
-station, and the parson rustling around with his
-traps, had combined to wake this beggar up, and he
-started in to sing again. He quite brightened up at
-the sound of his own music—takes another swig at
-his bottle and, squinting at our reverend friend,
-starts in again with his old parrot squawk:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“‘</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don’t believe in Heaven, mister! </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don’t
-believe in Heaven!’</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Parson stands up and reaches for his bag off
-the rack.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“‘Don’t you?’ he says, showing his teeth in a
-nasty sort of grin. ‘Don’t you? Well, then—you
-can go to H—l!’</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“That fixed it—absolutely. I jumped up and
-followed my ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’ down the aisle
-and out onto the platform.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“‘Just a minute, please,’ I said. ‘I’m a sergeant
-of the Mounted Police. I don’t think there’s
-any doubt about </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>.’ And I collared him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“For answer, he dropped his bag on the instant
-and closed with me—desperate—tried to trip me
-up. Oh, I tell you, he sure </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> some handful.
-Well, he wouldn’t give in, quiet, and I began to get
-mad at the way he was scuffling with me, so I let
-go of him and broke away for a second. Then I
-came in on him quick and flopped him out with an
-uppercut and a back-heel—and as he keeled over
-his hat flew off and I saw the scar on the top of his
-bald block. Regular entertainment for the people
-on the train and the platform. They were wondering
-what the deuce was up when they saw us scrapping
-and rolling around there. I shoved the steels
-on him and took him back next train.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Mary laughed heartily at the conclusion of this
-episode.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Wherever had he got the parson’s clothes
-from?” she queried.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh,” said Ellis, with a grin, “when I landed
-back to the Post with him I heard the city police’d
-received a report from the Reverend Seccombe—the
-Baptist minister—to the effect that his house
-had been broken into the night before and some of
-his clothes pinched. We got him to come down to
-the guardroom right away, and he immediately identified
-the clothes the prisoner was wearing as his—and
-the bag, too. He and the other gink were just
-about the same build and height. Oh, his understudy
-pleaded guilty to burgling this house then and
-there, when he saw a bluff wouldn’t go. Made a
-statement and told us the whole business.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“It appears he’d broken into a shack when he first
-made his get-away from the ‘pen,’ and stolen some
-workman’s clothes. He was kind enough to leave
-these behind him when he exchanged with Seccombe.
-Oh, he sure was some ‘Holy Roller,’ this Mr. Arthur
-Forbes. </span><em class="italics">Just</em><span> such another flim-flammer as that
-Jabez Balfour, who put that smooth ‘Liberator
-gold brick come-on’ over a lot of the smug Nonconformist
-fraternity in the Old Country many years
-back, and then skipped out to Buenos Ayres. This
-beauty was doing eight years for a somewhat similar
-fake—a big oil well ‘salting’ swindle. He’d
-defrauded the public out of something like four
-hundred thousand dollars.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He rolled and lit a cigarette and, after carefully
-extinguishing the match, gazed dreamily awhile
-across at the mountains, behind which the sun was
-gradually disappearing. Presently, looking up at
-his companion with a faint, whimsical smile playing
-over his stern features, he said quietly:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now it’s </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> turn to be Scherazerade. So far,
-I’ve been in the rôle of Sinbad—completely
-monopolizing this ‘Arabian Nights’ entertainment in
-a very one-sided manner. Won’t you tell me something
-of </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> life—in return?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She shrugged her broad, gracefully rounded shoulders
-with a queer little hopeless gesture, all the life
-seeming to have gone suddenly out of her mobile
-face as she regarded him now with grave introspection.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’ll tell you a little,” she said slowly. “But I’m
-afraid you won’t find it very interesting.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>What she related was a very fair corroboration
-of the facts previously told him by Trainor; and
-though in their narration she strove to appear indifferent
-to the changing fortunes of her family, and
-to gloss over her father’s improvidence and selfishness,
-reading between the lines it was very apparent
-to Ellis what sacrifices she had made willingly for
-those same young brothers of whom she spoke with
-such loving solicitude.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“So ye see, me frind,” she wound up with a kind
-of forced gaiety:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Fwat ups an’ down an’ changes there be</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>E’en in the lives av th’ loikes av me.</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Four years ago the fortunes av the House of O’Malley
-were in the ascendant; today they are shtrictly on
-th’ wane.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She threw up her head and smiled gamely in a
-forlorn sort of way; but the quivering lips belied the
-careless, inconsequent tones, and he, guessing that
-the tears were not far from the surface, dimly sensed
-something of the bitter struggle that that brave heart
-must have been forced to make at times to keep up
-appearances in past periods of adversity. With this
-in his mind, he impulsively held up his hand to the
-girl, and she, choking back a little sob in her throat,
-reached out and clasped it warmly in hers.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Eyah!” he said; “I guess we’ve both had our
-ups and downs, all right, but there’s one consolation
-about our respective lots—they might have fallen
-in worse places, though there’s little </span><em class="italics">real</em><span> peace in
-the lives of us who are comparatively poor and have
-to earn our own livings forever dependent on the
-whims and fancies of the powers that be, set in authority
-above us.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Take the life of the average non-com, or ‘buck,’
-in this Force, for instance. It may seem rot to get
-harping on grievances at such a time and place as
-this, I know,” (he made a sweeping gesture to the
-landscape with outflung arm) “but there’s no lasting
-peace of mind or future in it. People see us
-patrolling around in a smart uniform, and riding the
-pick of the country in horseflesh, thinking, I suppose,
-what a fine time we have of it. They little guess
-it’s one continual round of worry and trouble. All
-the way from murder and robbery to settling neighbors’
-trivial squabbles over dogging each other’s
-cattle, paying the cost of divisional fences, and all
-those kind of petty disturbances. Either that, or
-being chased around from one detachment to another,
-though in that respect I must say this Division
-isn’t as bad as some of ’em. Couldn’t have a
-better O.C. or Inspectors’n we’ve got in L. As long
-as you’re onto your job and do your work right, they
-let you pretty well alone. But it’s the confounded
-office work that we have to do in addition to our
-ordinary police duty that </span><em class="italics">we</em><span> get fed up on. Talk
-about red tape! This outfit’s sure the home of it!
-Every report, every little voucher for p’r’aps fifty
-cents’ expenditure—four, and sometimes five, copies
-of each. Statistics for this, and statistics for that;
-monthly returns, mileage reports, and the copy of
-your daily diary. Oh, Lord! you should just see
-what we have to get through. Most of us use typewriters,
-of course, or we’d </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> make the grade at
-all. It’s much easier and handier. Guess you saw
-that one of mine in the detachment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Office work or not, though, this job’s away ahead
-of being stuck in the Post. The daily round of a
-‘straight duty buck’ doing prisoners’ escort about
-Barracks is, without doubt, </span><em class="italics">the</em><span> most demoralizing
-existence goin’. The monotony’s something fierce.
-And a non-com’s isn’t much better, either. Sent
-out on every little rotten job that turns up, hanging
-around stables and the orderly-room, always expected
-to be on hand and within call. Taking charge
-of grousing fatigue parties, etc. Thank goodness!
-I never had much of it to do. I was only in the
-Post a month when I first took on. Been on detachment
-ever since, barring six weeks I once put
-in as Acting Provo’ in charge of the guardroom,
-while Hopgood was sick.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He rolled another cigarette and, inhaling and expelling
-a whiff of smoke, continued reflectively:
-“This is a good outfit—this Force—no doubt
-about it. I guess as regards its system, discipline,
-and results, it’s out and away the best Military
-Police Force in the world—with the exception,
-p’r’aps, of the Royal Irish Constabulary. Good
-men take on and serve their time. Some reengage,
-and some quit. But just as good men take their
-place and the work goes on. But, as I said before,
-there’s no rest, or future in it for the average non-com,
-or buck. You never know when your day’s
-work’s done.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No, it’s just one continual round of listening to,
-and settling other people’s troubles. Seems nonsense,
-I know, to get talking like this for, after all,
-it’s only what we’re paid for. Somebody’s got to
-do it. But there it is—trouble, trouble, trouble,
-the whole time. All my life, with the exception of
-the time I deliberately struck into the fighting game,
-I’ve wanted to live peaceably; but it seems to have
-been my luck, somehow, to always get the reverse.
-Especially on this job. No matter how quiet and
-easy-going you try to rub along there are always
-some nasty, bullying, ignorant, cunning beggars who,
-just because you’re a bit decent to them, take it for
-granted you’re easy and try to impose on you. Anyway,
-that was </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> experience on the first two or three
-detachments I struck. Not on </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> one, though!
-Didn’t give ’em a chance. Fellow that was before
-me, corporal named Williamson—decent head, all
-right—but he tried that ‘live, and let live’ stunt
-and it didn’t work a bit. No, </span><em class="italics">sir</em><span>! They just took
-advantage of him every turn and corner. Oh, I
-tell you, Miss O’Malley, it sure was some tough
-district—this—when I took it over.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His brows contracted loweringly, and a menacing
-light gleamed in his deep-set eyes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I soaked it to ’em, though, the dirty dogs!” he
-muttered, with a savage snap of his strong white
-teeth. “They wanted to be </span><em class="italics">shown</em><span>.... I’ve sure
-</span><em class="italics">shown</em><span> some of ’em, all right. The inside of a
-‘Pen’,’ at that. Kept ’em on the high jump ever
-since. It’s the only way </span><em class="italics">to</em><span> deal with that class.
-Treat ’em like the scum they are, and they’ll be
-good then and eat out of your hand. They’re too
-ignorant and cunning to appreciate any civility or
-kindness.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He smoked thoughtfully on awhile after this
-slight outburst of bitterness, amidst a silence that
-was presently broken by Mary.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“You’re fond of reading, aren’t you?” she inquired.
-“And music?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His moody face cleared instantly, like the sun
-coming from behind a cloud.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aye! you just bet I am!” he said fervently.
-“I’ve read, and played, and sung every chance I’ve
-got—wherever I’ve been. Fond!—well, I should
-say I am. I fancy if it hadn’t been for </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>, I’d
-have gone to the devil long ago.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He was sitting up on the grass, with his elbows
-on his knees and his face buried in his hands.
-Neither of them spoke for a time and he, still gazing
-across at the distant “Rockies,” muttered, half unconsciously,
-to himself:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No, just </span><em class="italics">peace</em><span>—that’s all I feel I want now.
-To have some steady job to work at, with a future,
-and a home ahead of it. Neither molesting, or being
-molested by any one.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The girl leaned forward, listening wonderingly,
-as she watched the hard, clean-cut profile of his faraway,
-moody face, surprised to hear him ramble on
-so. He appeared to be entirely oblivious of her
-presence. He made a very long pause and then,
-when she thought he was thinking of something
-quite different, he suddenly said:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“I’m getting older now, and I’ve got more patience
-than I used to have but, all the same—I’ll
-take no abuse, back-lip, or stand for being imposed
-upon by any man. It’s been a word and a blow
-with me all my life, and I guess that’s the reason
-why I’m only a poor man today. For many’s the
-jackpot it’s landed me into. Aye! and many’s the
-good job I’ve had to quit through the same thing.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Just </span><em class="italics">peace</em><span>!” he repeated again, dreamily.
-“You realize it in some of George Eliot’s tales of
-old-fashioned English country life, in Gray’s ‘Elegy,’
-in Marie Corelli’s song of ‘The Lotus Lily.’ Ah,
-yes! she felt it when she wrote that beautiful thing
-in her Egyptian tale of ‘Ziska’:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“‘Oh, for the passionless peace of the Lotus-Lily!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>It floats in a waking dream on the waters chilly,</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>With its leaves unfurled</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>To the wondering world,</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>Knowing naught of the sorrow and restless pain</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>That burns and tortures the human brain;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Oh, for the passionless peace of the Lotus-Lily!’”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>He ceased, and sunk his face in his hands again.
-The breeze stirred the grizzled-brown hair on his
-temples, and he remained still for so long that she
-thought he had fallen asleep; but presently he
-seemed to rouse himself a little, and said idly, in a
-low voice:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Men like me don’t </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> to care what people
-say, or think, about us. Ever since Mother died,
-I’ve been practically alone in the world, and steered
-my course as I saw fit—just gone ahead and done
-what I thought was right. Am I the worse man
-for being poor, I wonder? I’ve never crawled to
-hold a job—or for money, anyway! Badly though
-I’ve always wanted it. For it makes all the difference
-in the world—money. I’ve kept my self-respect
-as far as </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> goes—poor consolation
-though it may be now—just when I need it most.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The girl flicked him with her quirt.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Don’t you think we’d better be going?” she said
-gently. “It’s getting late. The sun’s gone down
-a long time now.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>At the touch, and the sound of her voice, he
-roused himself with a start and regarded her absently.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“By George!” he muttered. “I must have been
-dreaming. Sorry, Miss O’Malley.” He pulled out
-his watch. “Sure </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> late,” he said. “Why didn’t
-you give me a good slap and wake me up before?
-Letting me go to sleep like that. Well, I guess we’ll
-toddle on down to the horses.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“You </span><em class="italics">haven’t</em><span> been asleep,” she said, with a faint
-smile. “But you’ve been sitting there talking away
-to yourself like a man in a dream.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He flushed, and laughed a little, shamefacedly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Have I?” he answered. “I sure must be getting
-as ‘nutty’ as a sheep herder! What was I
-talking about?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, all sorts of things,” she said evasively.
-“I’ll tell you sometime.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed again and, after eyeing her incredulously
-for an instant, turned and strode down the
-declivity to where the patient horses still waited.
-The girl gazed wistfully for a moment or two after
-his retreating form, with its slim waist and square,
-splendidly-drilled shoulders; then, with a little weary
-sigh, she arose and, mechanically putting on her hat
-and dusting her dress, followed him.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Catching up Johnny, who nickered at her approach
-and picked up his forefoot for sugar, she mounted
-with the lithe agility of the expert horsewoman.
-Ellis swung up on Billy, and in silence they set out
-at a brisk lope for home.</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xix">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER XIX</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>For, immune from scoff of bachelor chum,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Into his kingdom he had come;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>A rose-strewn path he would henceforth tread</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Through the generous will of the kindly dead.</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">The Legatee</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>“Go on! you’re only fooling! Is that straight
-now, Hop? What pipe-dream’s all
-this?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Musgrave’s incredulous remarks were addressed
-to Provost-Sergeant Hopgood, the non-com.
-in charge of the guardroom, who, reclining in an
-easy chair in the former’s combined study and consulting-room
-on this September evening, was regarding
-his host somewhat lugubriously through a blue
-haze of cigar smoke.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No pipe-dream at all ... kind of wish it was,”
-he answered, with a slight trace of bitterness in his
-tones. “’Twas Churchill wised </span><em class="italics">me</em><span> up. He was in
-from Sabbano today. Appears Ben’s been rushing
-this girl—or woman, I should say—she’s near
-thirty, I understand—for quite a time, now.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Musgrave’s air of surprise was slowly succeeded
-by one of unwilling conviction.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, I’ll be——!” he muttered. “I might
-have tumbled, too!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why, what’s up?” said Hopgood eagerly, staring
-at him now with wide-eyed wonder. “You
-knew about it all the time, eh? Did Ben tell you?
-Have you seen her? What’s she like?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Musgrave knocked the ash off his cigar and gazed
-reflectively out of the open window.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Think I have,” he said. “I was walking down
-Eighth Avenue with him—day he was in town, last
-month. ‘Hello!’ he says, pulling up suddenly.
-‘Here’s somebody I know from my district!’ And,
-in that happy, casual, easy way he’s got, he introduced
-me to a female acquaintance of his, who’d just
-come out of Black’s jewelry store. She was a great
-big tall dark girl—finest figure of a woman I think
-I’ve ever seen. Regular whopper—not fat with it,
-either. Made you think of Boadicea, or Brittania,
-somehow, to look at her. She didn’t strike me as
-being a beauty, exactly, but she’d got a nice kind face.
-Lots of fun in her, too, and a lady, unmistakably. I
-rather liked her. We stood there chatting a few
-minutes, and I remember she told me she was in
-town for a day or two, shopping. Never a peep
-from that old fox, Ben, though. You’d never have
-dreamt there was anything doing from the way he
-acted then. Everything was as casual as you please.
-Begad! I’ll soak it to him for putting it over on me
-like this! That’s if it </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> right,” he added, with a
-dubious smile. “Somehow, I can’t credit it, though.
-Why, he’s the very last man I’d have expected to
-go dangling after a woman!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Bet he don’t do much dangling,” remarked the
-Provost sagely. “Not if I know him. He ain’t
-that kind. More’n likely it’s the other way round.
-I’ve known quite a few women get struck on him.
-Queer beggar! he’s never aloof, rude, or cold, but
-somehow—he just doesn’t seem to </span><em class="italics">notice</em><span> ’em at
-all. P’r’aps that’s what gets ’em. Besides, he’s a
-proper man to look at, and when he’s penned in a
-corner with a woman with no chance of escape, he
-talks in that kind, simple way of his—you know his
-way, Charley.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Musgrave nodded.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>There was a long silence, the two men puffing
-thoughtfully at their cigars and gazing with owlish
-abstraction at each other.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Didn’t you tell me once that he was engaged to
-some girl in Jo’burg? When he was with the Chartered
-Company?” pursued Hopgood.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” answered Musgrave moodily, “he was.”
-He paused, and an unfathomable, far-away look
-crept into his eyes as he gazed absently across at
-a window in the opposite block that the last rays
-of the dying sun transformed into a flaming shield
-of fire. “Beautiful Irish girl named Eileen Regan.
-She’d a face like a Madonna, I remember. She
-was a Roman Catholic, and a very devout one at
-that. They </span><em class="italics">might</em><span> have been happy together....
-I don’t know. It’s hard to predict how these mixed
-religions’ll turn out. Poor things never got the
-chance to see, anyway. For she died—died of
-enteric, just before the war started.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Hopgood eyed the other tentatively for a second
-or two. “</span><em class="italics">This</em><span> one’s Irish, too, I understand?”
-he remarked. “Irish-American, anyway.... He
-seems mighty partial to the Irish. Her name’s
-O’Malley. They’ll be able to keep a pig and ‘live
-pretty,’ what?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, overcome by the thought, he made a comical
-grimace of despair and sank back into the depths of
-his luxurious chair, while the roar of the busy street
-below floated up to their ears.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Musgrave cleared his throat. “Mother was an
-Irishwoman,” he said presently. “Probably that accounts
-for it. She was a Miss Fitzgerald, of Dublin—sister
-of that brave, splendid chap, Captain
-Fitzgerald, who was killed along with poor Fred
-Burnaby and many others of Stewart’s column, when
-the square was broken in the fight near the wells
-at Abou Klea, in the Soudan War of ’eighty-four
-and five.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He smoked on silently for a space. “Oh, h—l!”
-he burst out, with a sudden incredulous bitterness
-that startled even the cynical Hopgood. “Why,
-that beggar’s </span><em class="italics">always</em><span> come to me before with his
-troubles. Guess I’m the only one he ever </span><em class="italics">does</em><span> confide
-in. Many’s the time I’ve acted as Father-confessor
-and mentor to him. Surely he’d never have
-passed me up in such a momentous business as this?
-What saith the poet:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“You may carve it on his tombstone,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>You may cut it on his card</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>That a young man married is a young man marred.”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>The Provost emitted a noisy, snorting laugh.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Yes,” he remarked, with the jeering familiarity
-of old acquaintance, “and I must say you’re a nice
-blooming old Gamaliel to act as mentor to anybody,
-Charley, especially if you expect him to embrace
-</span><em class="italics">your</em><span> self-constituted creed of morality and philosophy.
-Oh, you’re some Father-confessor, all right,
-what? Besides, he </span><em class="italics">ain’t</em><span> young. That is, unless you
-call thirty-nine unsophisticated youth. ’Bout time he
-</span><em class="italics">was</em><span> making the break. There’s no fun in getting
-married when you’re old, all same Pope’s ‘January
-and May.’ He happened to mention it was his
-birthday to a bunch of us down town when he came
-in last month. I remember him saying it was his
-thirty-ninth, because I and Berkley, Mac, and Port
-stuck him for the drinks on the strength of it. We
-rushed him into the Alberta bar right away and—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“How about the way he used to hand it out about
-non-coms and bucks getting married in your Force,
-too?” interrupted Musgrave, grinning. “‘Look
-at Beckstall,’ he would say. ‘Look at Corbett,’ and
-lots of others. ‘Big families—always broke—dragging
-out their miserable lives in rotten little
-line detachments—can never afford to send their
-poor wives away for a change anywhere—they
-don’t </span><em class="italics">live</em><span>—they just </span><em class="italics">exist</em><span>, from one year’s end to
-another. That’s all there’s to it! D’you think I’d
-let myself in for a purgatory like </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>?’ and so on.
-You’ve heard him, Hop, too—lots of times, what?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Hopgood held up his hands appealingly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Don’t shoot, Colonel!” he said. “I’ll come
-down! </span><em class="italics">I’m</em><span> not holding any particular brief for
-him. Guess he’s pretty well able to conduct his own
-defense. </span><em class="italics">Ish ga bibble!</em><span>—it ain’t </span><em class="italics">our</em><span> funeral.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was worse than useless to argue with Musgrave.
-All his opponent’s best hits were turned
-aside by the target of his cynicism and unbelief, while
-his repartee and sarcasms often came home.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Funny chap!” he resumed musingly. “I think
-he is just about </span><em class="italics">the</em><span> most interesting and complex
-character I’ve ever come across. He’s very much
-of a man, but at the same time—he’s as simple as
-a kid in some things. Beggar reads a lot, and he’s
-as rum in his tastes in that as he is in everything
-else. Fond of all this old-fashioned stuff. The
-heighth of his imagination in humor he finds in Balzac’s
-and Rabelais’ yarns, or Boccaccio’s ‘Decameron,’
-and his ideals of pathos in George Eliot’s or
-Dickens’s tales. Whatever can you do with a man
-like that?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, what’s the use of talking?” broke out Hopgood
-testily:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“A fool there was, and he made his prayer—”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>he quoted, with a low, bitter laugh. “And by gum!
-it’s me that knows it.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The doctor silently eyed him in cynical abstraction
-awhile after this outburst, then his grim mouth
-relaxed into a faint sympathetic grin, and he held
-out his hand.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aye!... ‘Even as you and I,’” he finished
-softly. “Shake!... Is </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> why you chucked up
-your commission in India?... I and Ben always
-thought so,” he continued, as the Provost nodded
-wearily to his query. “None of our business to get
-making inquisitions, though.... Well! this sad
-news has been quite a shock to our nervous systems.
-Kind of breaks up us ‘Three Musketeers,’ eh?...
-Looks very much as if we’re going to lose our D’Artagnan.
-The old chum of your bachelor days is,
-somehow, never the same again to you after he gets
-married. S’pose an all-wise Providence has ordained
-things so for some unfathomable reason. Think
-we need a little drink to console us.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And he got up with a dreary sighing yawn and,
-unlocking a small mahogany liquor cellaret, produced
-a splendid silver and cut-glass “Tantalus.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What’s yours, Hop?” he inquired. “Brandy,
-or ‘Scotch’?”</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
-</div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Leaving these two well-meaning, if cynical, worthies
-to console each other with the bitter philosophy
-which retrospection of past irremedial misfortunes
-has caused many better, and worse, men than them
-to revert to, let us return to the detachment at
-Cherry Creek, where at this particular moment the
-object of their commiseration is leaning back in his
-favorite chair, with his head resting in its customary
-position against the leopard-skin kaross. Tired
-out by a long and uneventful four days’ patrol, Ellis
-lit a pipe and gazed wearily out through the open
-door into the gathering dusk. Gradually, his mind,
-still obsessed with the vague memories of brands of
-missing cattle and horses and the usual round of more
-or less petty complaints, strayed back to the Trainors’
-establishment.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He found himself wondering how Mary was, and
-what had caused her to be so strangely silent and
-abstracted during that last homeward ride together
-from Lone Butte. At supper time, too, he mused,
-she had been in the same mood ... had hardly
-spoken to him at all? Could it be that—?</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, not unmixed with an unfamiliar, slightly self-conscious,
-feeling of shame, came the sudden thought
-that she </span><em class="italics">might</em><span> have grown to regard his attentions
-in a more serious light than mere frank camaraderie.
-And, if that was so—well—she sure </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> be
-thinking him a proper “laggard in love.” Not
-much of the “Young Lochinvar” about him, he
-reflected bitterly. Anyway, it certainly didn’t seem
-very gentlemanly behavior on his part, or the right
-thing, exactly, to run around after a girl—like he
-undoubtedly had, to a certain extent—with Mary,
-and then keep her “hanging on the fence” indefinitely,
-as it were, like that. Surely the Trainors must
-be wondering not a little, too. How the deuce was
-it that he had never thought of his conduct in that
-light before? What a simple fool he had been not
-to have “tumbled” to all this earlier? Should he
-chance it? She could but “turn him down” like
-she had the rest—some of whose very palpable discomfiture
-he had been a casual and not altogether
-disinterested witness on more than one occasion.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And then, on the other hand, was he </span><em class="italics">justified</em><span> in
-asking </span><em class="italics">any</em><span> woman to share the lot that he had so
-often bitterly inveighed against as being utterly insufficient,
-unsuitable, and contrary to all his ideals of
-conjugal happiness?</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>His somewhat gloomy reflections were suddenly
-disturbed by the sounds of an approaching rider,
-who presently drew up outside the open door.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, Sargint!” came the gruff bark of Gallagher;
-“yu’re back, eh? Bin down for me mail, so I brung
-yores along.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Good man! much obliged. Come on in, Barney!”
-Ellis called out.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And the rancher, swinging down from the saddle,
-dropped his lines and slouched in with a packet of
-letters in his hand.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Nothin’ doin’, an’ nobody around for yu’ while
-yu’ was away,” he remarked, dropping into a chair
-and lighting his pipe. “Gosh, but it’s a warm night
-for this time o’ year!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The Sergeant reached out for, and began leisurely
-to open up his mail. Most of it bore the regimental
-stamp of L Division. Returned crime reports, with
-caustic, blue-pencilled marginal comments in the
-O.C.’s caligraphy, requesting certain omitted particulars
-therein. Circulars respecting stolen stock,
-descriptions of persons “wanted” for various
-crimes, drastic orders emanating, primarily, from
-Headquarters at Regina, regarding new innovations
-to be observed in certain phases of detachment duty,
-etc., the monthly “General Orders,” and so on. But
-presently a somewhat large envelope, addressed in a
-clerk’s hand and bearing an English stamp and the
-London postmark, attracted his attention. Whoever
-could be writing </span><em class="italics">him</em><span> from the Old Country?
-he wondered. The only letters he ever received
-from </span><em class="italics">there</em><span> were mostly from Major Carlton, and
-this wasn’t </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> handwriting.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With a vague feeling of uneasiness, he turned it
-over in his hand irresolutely for a moment, then
-opened it. It contained a closed envelope and a
-letter which bore the heading of a London legal firm.
-Mechanically he smoothed this latter communication
-out and began to read the epoch-making document
-that was destined later to create for him a new
-world and to transform his desert into a paradise.</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">Dear Sir</em><span>,—We are charged with the melancholy duty of
-breaking to you the news of the death of your old friend,
-Major Gilbert Carlton, on the 20th ult. Our late respected
-client, although possessing all the outward appearances of
-being a hale, robust old soldier, had for many years suffered
-from what physicians term an “aortic aneurism,” the origin of
-which was probably the result of the privations and exposure
-endured by him in the various campaigns that he had gone
-through. The final bursting of this “aneurism” was the
-cause of his sudden death.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Suffering from such an ailment, it is therefore not surprising
-that he apparently realized of late that his end might
-come upon him unexpectedly at any moment of his advanced
-age. This presentiment he recently confided to us, during
-one of his last business visits. The enclosed letter he left in
-our care, charging us—in case of his decease—to forward
-it immediately to you.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For many years he frequently spoke of you to us with great
-regard and feeling; referring to you always, as “The boy,
-Ellis,” or “</span><em class="italics">His</em><span> boy,” in tones which moved us not a little,
-evincing as he did, such a kindly love and esteem for you.
-He was seventy-five years of age, and, as you are of course
-aware, a bachelor all his life, possessing only distant relatives.
-Although not by any means a recluse, and enjoying life to
-its full in his old-fashioned, cheery way at his estate—Biddlecombe
-Hall, in Devonshire, surrounded by many of
-his old soldier friends—he was not an extravagant man and
-the revenues of the said estate have been steadily accumulating
-for many years. This magnificent property, with all
-revenues thereof had been left to him under the will of his
-cousin, the late Lord Baring, his nearest relative.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>We enclose a copy of the testament, by which you will see
-that (with the exception of the estate, which, re a stipulated
-clause in Lord Baring’s will, has reverted at the death of
-the last incumbent to the Morley Institute, to be used as a
-sanatorium for tuberculosis patients, and a few bequests to
-old servants) he has bequeathed to you the great bulk of his
-money. We hold at your disposal, a sum (discounting probate
-dues) approximately nearly ninety thousand pounds.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>We beg to congratulate you on the acquisition of this
-considerable fortune. Thinking that you might desire to relinquish
-your present occupation at once, and not knowing
-how you are financially situated, we enclose a credit for five
-hundred pounds, for which please sign the accompanying receipt.
-Kindly communicate with us at your earliest convenience.</span></p>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>We are, dear sir, yours truly,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span class="small-caps">Eaton and Smith</span><span>.</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Dazedly Ellis glanced through the attached copy
-of the will and reread the letter through. Gallagher,
-who had been intently watching his face
-throughout, vaguely aware from the Sergeant’s unconcealed
-agitation that some tidings of an unusual
-character had been received, inquired casually:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Why, what’s up, Sargint? Hope yu’ ain’t bin
-a-gettin’ bad news?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis regarded his interlocutor absently a moment
-or two, and then his preoccupied gaze flickered away
-again through the open door into the darkness of
-the night.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“It’s both good </span><em class="italics">and</em><span> bad, Barney,” he answered
-slowly. “I’ll tell yu’—later.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Choking back many conflicting emotions, he now
-picked up the previously mentioned closed letter
-which, he perceived, was addressed to him in his old
-friend’s handwriting. With a feeling almost of
-awed reverence, he broke the heavy wax seal,
-stamped with the Major’s own signet ring and,
-drawing out the letter, began to read a communication
-that was to remain indelibly in his memory forever:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">My Dear Lad</em><span>,—I take up my pen to write this—the last
-letter you will ever receive from me—while I am still of
-clear mind, and in possession of all my faculties. Life is very
-uncertain at all times, and especially so in the case of an old
-fellow like me. I have got what the doctors call an
-“aneurism,” Ellis, and have had it for many years now. A
-man cannot expect to come through the hardships of such
-campaigns as the Afghan and Soudan, unscathed. I was at
-Charasiah, Kabul, Maiwand, and Tel-el-Kebir, my boy,
-and I tell you I have worked, bled, starved and suffered
-above a bit in my time. My incubus has been troubling me
-greatly of late and I cannot mistake its meaning. Dr. Forsyth
-has warned me that it may burst at any time now.
-Many thanks for granting my wish in sending me that
-photograph of yourself in your Mounted Police uniform. I
-look at it often. For though externally it depicts one whom
-I believe to be a soldier, and a man in word, deed, and appearance,
-in it I seem to see again the face of a boy that I
-once loved, because—he had his mother’s dear, dear eyes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, Ellis, my lad!... Now that I know my end is not
-far off, I feel that I cannot die peaceably without telling you
-what has been to me a sacred secret since I was in my thirties.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It must have been in ’sixty-two, or thereabouts, when I first
-met your mother, in Dublin. The regiment that I and your
-father were in lay at Athlone, then. I grew to love her.
-Loved her with a passion that I fancy comes to few men,
-and my supreme desire was to be able to call her my wife.
-I suppose the Almighty willed it otherwise, though, and it
-was not to be.... For John Benton, your father, came
-along, my boy, and he was a big man, and a strong man, and
-a handsome man, with a bold masterful, loving way with him
-that took her by storm, as it were, and I—I faded into insignificance
-beside such a splendid personality as his. He
-won her from me, but that fact could not kill my love; all
-outward exhibition of which, though, I have guarded well. My Dear Lad
-I have worn the willow decently, I hope, as an honest English
-gentleman should, and have borne my cross patiently
-through the long, weary years that have passed since then.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With the recollection of </span><em class="italics">such</em><span> a woman as your mother
-lingering still in my remembrance,—whose dear face—God
-grant, I may behold again, shortly—can you wonder that
-none other has come into my life to take her place, and that
-I have been true to the memory of my first, and only love.
-You alone of your family have </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> eyes, and impulsive, loving
-ways, and for those reasons were always my favorite—headstrong
-lad, though you were.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>On the subject of your estrangement from your family, I
-have nothing to say, beyond that I consider that it is a matter
-which lies entirely between your own conscience—and God.
-You were sorely tried, I know.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>I am leaving to you the greater portion of my money.
-It is my desire, as through it, I hope, your future path in
-life will be smoothed considerably. May it ultimately bring
-you the happiness of enabling you to marry a good, true, loving
-woman, and of living henceforth, in that station of life
-to which you properly belong.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Do not grieve for me my lad!... Best think of me just
-as a kindly old soldier, at the end of his service, who was
-ready and willing to go to his rest—only awaiting “The
-Last Post” to be sounded. I have not lived altogether unhappily.
-I have drunk deeply of the joys of life in my time,
-and I possess many good and true friends. My days, thank
-God, have been, for the most part, passed cleanly as a </span><em class="italics">man</em><span>—in
-the open, breathing His fresh air. Through it I have
-had ever your dear mother’s memory to keep my conscience
-clear, and have striven steadfastly to adhere and live up to,
-most all, I trust, of the precepts that are embodied in the
-formula, “An officer, and a gentleman.” As in the sunset
-of my life I sit alone in my chair in the twilight, dreaming of
-bygone days, it seems to me that I can see the shining welcome
-of many long-lost and well-remembered faces. They
-come and go, and I love them well enough, but </span><em class="italics">one</em><span>—especially
-beloved above the rest is with me always.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But why speak of </span><em class="italics">her</em><span>?... Now that she is again so
-near to me—now that I go, I hope, where </span><em class="italics">she</em><span> has
-gone!... The guiding-light of the soul of her true womanhood
-is shining brighter and brighter in the gloom ahead of
-me still, and of </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> will my last thoughts be on this side of
-Eternity.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And now! ... Ellis, my boy! my boy! ... One last
-“Good-by!” ... God bless you, and may your life be a
-long and happy one.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>I am, believe me, to the last.</span></p>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><em class="italics">Your old friend</em><span>,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span class="small-caps">Gilbert Carlton</span><span>.</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>A smothered sob burst from Ellis, and the letter
-fluttered from his grasp to the floor. Gallagher,
-still watching him curiously, repeated his former
-query:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“What’s up, Sargint? Hope nothin’s—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis interrupted him huskily, but not unkindly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Get out, Barney!” he said. “Don’t talk to
-me just now! I’ll tell yu’—sometime! Beat it!
-there’s a good chap. I just wanta be alone.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, with one last lingering look of silent, wondering
-sympathy, the rancher arose and departed
-slowly into the night.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Overcome with his thoughts, Ellis sat for a long
-time motionless; then, mechanically groping for the
-letter again, he reread it. Its simple pathos touched
-him strangely as the awe-inspiring significance of the
-long, patient struggle of that faithful old heart—stilled
-now, alas, forever—began to creep into his
-dazed brain. He raised his swimming eyes to the
-portrait of the gentle woman, the memory of whose
-beauty and kind, sweet personality had been the
-good angel alike to poor old Major Carlton and
-himself throughout both their strenuous and sin-tempted
-lives.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Not in vain had been her early teachings and loving,
-self-sacrificing patience and forbearance, while
-he was yet a wilful, headstrong youngster. As,
-gently, and with a mother’s tact, she strove to curb
-his faults and instil into him—through love, and
-love alone—truth, honesty, and the main principles
-of right and wrong.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Not in vain had she entered into her rest and, as
-an angel in the stead of a beautiful, pure, true-hearted
-woman, interceded for the souls of both men
-in their tempestuous journey through life.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Long and wistfully the Sergeant gazed into the
-grave, sweet eyes and proud, clean-cut features—so
-like his own—and his stern bronzed face became
-softened and glorified with a wave of ineffable
-filial devotion too sacred for words.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Mother!” he whispered brokenly. “Mother!
-Oh, Mother!” and dropped his head upon his outstretched
-arms across the table.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
-</div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>But grief—no matter however sincere and true—to
-the average healthy man is but a transient emotion.
-Ellis was no dissembler, and sadly though he
-mourned the loss of his old friend, as the first transports
-of his sorrow subsided and he became calmer,
-a slow, dim realization of the tremendous possibilities
-of his good fortune began to flood his mind.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For to him it meant—freedom, at last, from all
-the unavoidable, petty, sordid worries connected
-with the calling that he followed. No more gloomy
-outlooks upon life in general, or pessimistic forebodings
-arising from the consciousness of straightened
-means. Free at last to wander around the
-earth at will and visit all its beauty spots that he
-had read or heard about. Free to enjoy all the
-pleasures of the world that money can command.
-He was still only a comparatively young man, strong
-and active far beyond the average.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, above all, it meant—and the very thought
-of his presumption stirred him strangely and caused
-a mighty wave of long-pent-up love to surge through
-his heart—perhaps also it meant—Mary.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>So the joy of life filled him and transfigured his
-scarred, somber face with a dreamy expression of
-happiness that lies beyond the power of mere words
-to adequately describe. No more was the ideal life
-that he had so often—ah! how often?—pictured
-longingly to himself in his fits of morbid, spiritless
-depression, only a monotonous repetition of hopeless
-empty dreams. It actually lay now within his
-power to gratify his heart’s desires to their fullest
-extent.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And then—to the weary man in that humble
-abode, which was, nevertheless, all that he could call
-“Home,” there appeared a wondrous fantasy which,
-in its awe-inspiring, majestic grandeur, might have
-been likened, almost, unto some allegory, or a scene
-in the Revelation. With mind absolutely, utterly
-detached from all things material, he sat there motionless,
-as if in a dream, and it began to float before
-his far-away eyes like a filmy roseate mirage.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For, in his exalted imagination, it seemed to him
-that he was standing upon the shores of a great
-sparkling crystal sea, as it were, in the first faint
-flush of a radiant dawn. Purple, crimson, saffron-yellow
-and turquoise, the morning lights stole in
-succession across the sleeping world, and slowly—slowly,
-in the mystic East—the flashing rays of a
-magnificent sunrise began to creep over the rim of
-the horizon, transforming the gleaming waste of
-waters into a vast expanse of golden flame.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, as he gazed entranced at this gorgeous spectacle,
-suddenly he grew conscious that he was not
-alone. Turning, he became aware of the figure of
-a woman kneeling on the ground hard by, with her
-head bowed in an attitude suggestive of sorrowful
-abandon. Her form, though the face was turned
-from him and partly shrouded by her huge masses
-of dark, disordered hair, seemed vaguely familiar;
-and he found himself engaged in idle speculation as
-to her identity. Something in her posture of dejection
-instinctively stirred in him a fleeting memory
-of Thomas Moore’s beautiful poem. “Paradise and
-the Peri,” the poor Peri humbly, yet vainly, craving
-admission into Paradise. Vaguely and disconnectedly,
-some of the lines wandered into his mind:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>One morn a Peri at the gate</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Of Eden stood, disconsolate;</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>The glorious Angel who was keeping</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>The Gates of Light beheld her weeping;</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Awhile he contemplated the woman with a great
-pity in his heart, and was about to draw nigh and
-comfort her when all at once his impulse was checked
-and he remained spellbound in mute amazement.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For, seemingly from </span><em class="italics">nowhere</em><span>, a transcendentally
-glorious voice—</span><em class="italics">that sounded not of this earth</em><span>—suddenly
-arose in the stillness around them. Pure,
-peaceful, unutterably sweet, far beyond this world
-and its works, the golden notes floated forth into
-the hush of the opal dawn, uplifting the hearts of
-the listeners on the wings of sound—verily to
-Heaven’s gate:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“O Rest in the Lord! wait patiently for Him!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>And He shall give thee—He shall give thee—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>O He shall give thee thy heart’s desire!”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>The eternal solace of the weary and heavy-laden,
-the Divine appeal to all poor struggling souls rose
-and fell, finally melting away into nothingness, save
-where the deep, cloister-like silence flung back a faint
-far echo. Beside the bowed female figure there
-became visible a vague shimmering </span><em class="italics">something</em><span> which,
-almost imperceptibly, began to assume the outlines
-of a human form. Disturbed strangely at what he
-knew not, the wayward, reckless soul of Ellis Benton
-became filled with a great and reverential awe.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He sank to his knees and bowed his head. When,
-fearfully, he dared to raise it again, his eyes beheld
-</span><em class="italics">one</em><span> clad in shining raiment, about whom there clung
-a halo of radiance. Slowly the glistening form
-turned and a cry of wonderment and adoration burst
-from his lips. For, lo!—it seemed to him that
-</span><em class="italics">once more</em><span> he looked upon the face of his long-dead
-love—Eileen Regan.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Motionless, she gazed down upon him long and
-earnestly, with gravely sweet, kind eyes; then, stooping
-low, she embraced the sorrowing woman tenderly,
-and kissed her on the brow, bidding her be
-of good cheer and calling her “Sister.” Presently,
-drawing herself erect, she uplifted her heavenly
-voice again, and there rang forth—as he well remembered
-her singing it in </span><em class="italics">life</em><span>, one never-to-be-forgotten
-Christmas morn, in that little Catholic
-Church in far-off Johannesburg—“In Excelsis
-Gloria”:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“Glory to God in the Highest!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>And on earth peace, goodwill towards men!”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>She bent and kissed the woman a last farewell.
-Then, raising her arms in holy benediction, she
-slowly became a </span><em class="italics">shade</em><span>, as before, unfolding her
-wings and floating away diaphonously into the silvery
-mists of the early morn.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The kneeling woman then arose and, turning,
-came towards him swiftly. A tall, stately figure
-of a woman, with a kind, strong, sweet face; the
-tumbled masses of her glossy, raven-hued hair all
-floating and rippling about her regal shoulders and
-white columnar throat.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Near she drew to him—nearer. She stretched
-out her bare rounded arms to him with a little happy
-loving cry as she smiled into his eyes, and he saw
-the splendor and glory of the world in hers.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>While, far away in his ears, rang the echo of his
-own voice calling upon a woman’s name—wonderingly,
-passionately—“Mary!... Mary!... Mary!...”</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xx">
-<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>CHAPTER XX</span></h2>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>The wild hawk to the wind-swept sky,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>The deer to the wholesome wold,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>And the heart of a man to the heart of a maid</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>As it was in the days of old.</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>The heart of a man to the heart of a maid—</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Light of my tents, be fleet!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Morning waits at the end of the world;</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>And the world is all at our feet.</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>—</span><span class="small-caps">Kipling</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>“Wake up, Johnny, yu’ old fool!... don’t
-yu’ start in to lazy on me or I’ll—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Here Ellis shrewdly pinched his
-mount’s withers, causing that animal to flatten his
-ears and nip playfully at his rider’s knee.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Look out, doggone it! If </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> happen to get a
-bit absent-minded at times, yu’ needn’t follow suit!”
-he exclaimed sharply, as he jerked his horse away
-from the edge of a small, but wicked muskeg, around
-which the trail that led to the Trainors’ ranch circled.
-“I sure don’t want to be getting in the soup
-like Jim McCloud did that time, on </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> day of all
-days. I’ll hand yu’ over to Mary, begad!...
-she’ll teach yu’ to ‘soldier,’ yu’ old sucker!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>It was a glorious sunshiny afternoon, and the
-light cool breeze sent the occasional little tufts of
-fleecy-white clouds scudding across the turquoise-blue
-sky, and waved and brushed the surface of the long
-prairie grass as if with an invisible hand. To the
-gait of his horse Ellis whistled to himself—happily—half
-dreamily, as if he voiced some inner
-thought—an old, long-forgotten air, presently
-breaking into its words:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“Sae kind, kind and gentle it she,</span></div>
-<div class="inner line-block">
-<div class="line"><span>Kind is my Mary;</span></div>
-</div>
-<div class="line"><span>The tender blossom on the tree,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Cannot compare wi’ Mary.”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Duly arriving at the ranch, he dropped his lines,
-and leisurely sauntering up to the familiar dwelling
-where he perceived the owner and his wife sitting
-in the shade of the veranda, he hailed them cheerily.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Trainor looked up at the other’s approach and,
-lowering the paper that he was reading, nodded to
-him nonchalantly; his spouse gave no salutation
-whatever, and appeared engrossed in her sewing.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis halted irresolutely, sensing something strange
-and apathetic in the manner in which he was received—something
-</span><em class="italics">distant</em><span>, as it were—and he
-became slowly conscious of a presentiment that his
-forebodings had not been without reason, and that
-all was not well as heretofore, when their usual welcome
-had been so genuine and unrestrained. With
-a feeling of vague uneasiness at his heart, he regarded
-them blankly a moment or two, glancing
-from one to the other inquiringly; then he said:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Is anything the matter? What’s wrong?”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Trainor fidgeted nervously in his chair awhile,
-and then raising his self-conscious eyes to the level
-of his questioner’s breast, blurted out:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, you see, Benton, it’s like this ... er—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But words seemed to fail him, and he left the
-sentence unfinished, relapsing into silence and gazing
-miserably at his wife, as if seeking her assistance
-in his explanation. The latter, now for the first
-time, raised her head and, gravely contemplating
-the troubled, anxious face of the Sergeant, addressed
-her husband.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Best tell him, Dave,” she said, with an inflection
-of slightly frigid hostility in her tones. “If you
-won’t, </span><em class="italics">I will</em><span>!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Thus adjured, Trainor coughed awkwardly and
-began afresh:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Well, now, see here; look! I’ll tell you, Sergeant.
-It’s about that girl, Mary—Miss O’Malley,
-I mean. You know how I and Mrs. Trainor
-love and regard that girl? ... known her since she
-was a little kiddie, and think as much of her as we
-do of our own children—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped, and Ellis nodded silently.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“For over a week now,” continued the rancher,
-“that girl’s been acting queerly—seems worried—won’t
-talk, and she’s not looking at all well. This
-afternoon we simply couldn’t stand it any longer—she
-was looking miserable, and it made </span><em class="italics">us</em><span> miserable,
-too, seeing her like that. We were right here on
-the veranda, and she came out of the door to go
-riding. I caught hold of her by the shoulders—half
-joshingly—‘Mary, my dear!’ I said; ‘what’s
-wrong? You’re not looking yourself. There’s
-something the matter—won’t you tell us? You’re
-not afraid to tell </span><em class="italics">us</em><span>, are you, my girl?’ She struggled
-a bit when I had her cornered like that, and
-tried to get away from me—then she raised those
-beautiful honest eyes of hers and looked me squarely
-in the face. She tried to speak, but somehow the
-words wouldn’t seem to come, and—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“And </span><em class="italics">then</em><span>,” broke in Mrs. Trainor, taking up
-the tale, “she flung away from him and threw her
-arms around my neck and hid her face against my
-shoulder. You know, Mr. Benton, she’s the very
-soul of honesty ... candid and unafraid to a degree—she
-doesn’t know what evasion or subterfuge
-means—she’s like a brave, simple child in that respect.
-She clung to me for a bit, and then she breaks
-out into that quaint Irish brogue of hers—like she
-often does when she’s agitated or excited:</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“‘Och! ’tis waithin I am for a man to speak!’ she
-wails out. ‘And, oh, my dear! ... weary waithin
-’tis, ochone!’ And then she burst out crying, with
-great shaking sobs—oh! </span><em class="italics">how</em><span> that girl </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> cry—as
-if her heart was breaking. I talked to her and
-soothed her the best I could, and by and by she became
-quieter, dried her eyes, kissed me, and went
-away to her horse. She didn’t say any more than
-that and I didn’t ask her—didn’t need to ... for
-there! ... isn’t that admission enough? D’you
-think </span><em class="italics">we</em><span> looking on at this play all this time don’t
-know </span><em class="italics">who</em><span> she meant?” Mrs. Trainor continued,
-eyeing Benton severely. “Haven’t you been coming
-here regularly, paying her marked attention, taking
-her out for rides, and all that? D’you think it’s
-possible to deceive </span><em class="italics">us</em><span>. If you’ve only been amusing
-yourself at her expense all these months with no serious
-intentions, I tell you plainly, Mr. Benton ...
-I don’t think you’re acting in a proper manner at all.
-That girl is one in a thousand. Besides—she has
-refused many good offers of marriage—and all for
-your sake, too—from men who were in the position
-to give her a downright good home and all the comforts
-of life. You may think it’s not our business,
-but I tell you it </span><em class="italics">is</em><span>!” she ended, with sparkling eyes.
-“And we’ve made up our minds this sort of thing
-shan’t go on any longer—that is, unless you can
-give us your positive assurance that your intentions
-are really sincere.... No! you needn’t look at me
-in that idiotic way!” she cried, arising and stamping
-her foot angrily. “I mean what I say, and I—”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Benton, with a flash of white teeth, and a broad
-and rather foolish grin on his—now happy—face,
-suddenly stepped forward and gripped the indignant
-lady gently by the shoulders.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“</span><em class="italics">Mrs.</em><span> Trainor!” he said, with a daring earnestness
-that almost took the breath away from that scandalized
-dame as she struggled to free herself. “If
-you open your mouth to say one word more, I’ll—as
-sure as you’re the wife of your husband—I’ll
-kiss you bang in front of him!” And, releasing her,
-he continued: “What you’ve just told me’s made
-me the happiest man alive.... I know where I get
-off at, now ... and I’ll proceed to tell </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> something!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And rapidly he acquainted the astonished pair with
-the news of his unexpected good fortune, apologizing
-for his seemingly callous conduct with a deep, sincere
-contrition that impressed them in no little degree
-and dispelled all their lingering doubts.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Trainor reached out a massive hand. “Sergeant,”
-he said, with great feeling. “Shake! I’m
-in wrong! I take it all back how I’ve misjudged
-you! I might have known you weren’t </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> kind!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Ellis, swallowing a little, grasped the offered hand
-warmly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Dave!” he blurted out, “it’s </span><em class="italics">me</em><span> that’s to blame,
-all right. It’s mighty good of you and Mrs.
-Trainor to condone that sure questionable simplicity
-of mine in the way you have. I should have put
-myself right with both of you at the start.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>But Mrs. Trainor outdid her husband in impulsive
-warmth.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“You threatened to kiss me,” she began archly.
-“Now, I’m going to do more than threaten. There,
-sir!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, suiting the action to the word, she kissed him
-heartily. Then, womanlike, as the reaction to her
-happiness—she began to cry. At which Trainor
-guffawed and caught hold of her teasingly. But,
-dragging herself away from him, she pushed Ellis
-towards the path.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Now you go!” she sobbed, “after her—straightway.
-And don’t you dare bring her back
-here until you’ve kissed her tears away and she’s her
-own happy self again. That is, if you can find her,”
-she added, with wet, smiling eyes. “I don’t know
-exactly which way she went.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, I’ll find her, all right,” said Ellis cheerfully.
-“I think I know where she’ll be.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, turning, he strode off to the waiting Johnny,
-mounted, and set off at a brisk lope towards “Lone
-Butte,” that reared its head in the hazy distance.
-For it was </span><em class="italics">there</em><span> that he guessed instinctively she had
-betaken herself.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Purposely making a wide detour to escape her possible
-observation, thirty minutes’ brisk riding brought
-him into a small coulee, dotted with a young growth
-of Balm o’ Gilead trees and alder bushes, which lay
-to the rear of the butte and exactly opposite to the
-side where the regular path to the summit began.
-Here he dismounted and, leading Johnny, to save a
-later descent for that animal, commenced to slowly
-make the ascent.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Pausing to take breath within a few yards of the
-top, the breeze brought to his ears the unmistakable
-sounds of somebody whistling carelessly to herself.
-Yes, that was her whistle, all right, he reflected;
-so she couldn’t be so </span><em class="italics">very</em><span> unhappy. Intending
-to steal up to her unobserved, and calculating
-from his memory of the position of the big
-stone, that she would have her back turned towards
-him, he crept warily to the summit.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Soon, not thirty feet distant on the small plateau,
-he beheld her seated on the stone and, as he had
-surmised, facing the West. But her attitude of dejected
-abandon sobered him somewhat, and the low,
-monotonous whistle sounded doleful in the extreme.
-Noiselessly the Sergeant decreased the distance between
-them, and when within a few feet halted, not
-wishing to startle her too badly. On account of her
-wide-brimmed Stetson hat tipped back on the nape of
-her neck, and the breeze blowing in her ears, she
-had not thus far been aware of his close approach,
-the thick, “old-bottom” prairie grass effectually
-deadening the ring of Johnny’s steel-shod hoofs.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Long and earnestly, with a great love not unmixed
-with a pang of remorse in his heart, Ellis gazed on
-the still unconscious girl. Then all at once he gave
-a violent start, which almost betrayed his presence
-to her.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For, suddenly, and with the clarity that the great
-king saw the writing on the wall, again he seemed
-to behold, and comprehend fully now, the significance
-of the strange fantasy which had appeared to him
-in the detachment the previous night.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The dreary whistle ceased, and with her chin resting
-in her hands she began to idly croon to herself
-an old-fashioned time-worn ballad, which he vaguely
-recognized as Whittier’s “Maud Muller.” Lord!
-what a time it seemed since he’d heard </span><em class="italics">that!</em><span> he reflected.
-It took him right back to the scenes of his
-boyhood again at Shrewsbury—peaceful, gray-spired
-old-world Shrewsbury. Verse by verse, came
-the monotonous refrain of the antiquated poem to
-his ears—just as a little girl will sometimes drone
-to herself as she sits plaiting her hair in the sun:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Maud Muller looked and sighed. “Ah me!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>That I the Judge’s bride might be!</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>He would dress me up in silks so fine,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>And praise and toast me at his wine.”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>How the air of a long-forgotten song, a chance
-phrase in a book, the scent of new-mown hay and of
-certain flowers, the splendor of a tropical sunrise, the
-glory of a flaming crimson and gold sunset, or the
-calm beauty of a moonlight night will ofttimes
-awaken in us strange old longing memories of other—and,
-perchance—happier days. Harking back
-now through all the years came to him, dimly, the
-recollection that the </span><em class="italics">very last</em><span> time he had heard </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>
-was at a gathering of young hearts held in his old
-school town, when he was a bright-eyed young sinner
-of thirteen or thereabouts—“soirees,” as they were
-called then. Yes, it was at Dr. Pennington’s, and
-saucy, yet tender-eyed, little Darthea Pennington had
-recited it. She had cried, too, at its conclusion, he
-remembered; which spectacle of girlish emotion had
-prompted him to start in tormenting her with some
-youthful nonsense, in a well-meant effort to revive
-her natural gaiety. True, she’d slapped his face
-as the reward for his impudence, but didn’t she
-relent later to the extent of allowing him to kiss
-“friends,” and afterwards take her in to supper?</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>“And I’d feed the hungry and clothe the poor,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>And all should bless me who left our door.”</span></div>
-<div class="line"> </div>
-<div class="line"><span>The Judge looked back at he climbed the hill,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>And saw Maud Muller standing still.</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>With bowed head the listener stood there motionless,
-whilst a wave of emotion surged through his
-heart, awakening all the sentiment which, through
-long years of iron self-repression, had lain dormant
-in his deep nature.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Whatever had possessed her to hark back to this
-memory of her girlhood? he mused. Under ordinary
-circumstances he would no doubt have resorted
-as heretofore, to his customary badinage—chaffed
-her about “grinding out Whittier by the yard,” or
-mimicked her in a mincing falsetto. But now—as
-he heard it </span><em class="italics">now</em><span>—the element of absurdity was distinctly
-lacking ... nay! it was pitiful—almost
-tragic ... how like a simple child again she
-seemed, in her unhappiness?</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>With pathetic, monotonous regularity—as if she
-were seeking to distract her thoughts from her trouble
-by repeating some orison—the interminable
-stanzas rose and fell, with a quavering cadence:</span></p>
-<blockquote>
-<div>
-<div class="line-block outermost">
-<div class="line"><span>Then she took up her burden of life again,</span></div>
-<div class="line"><span>Saying only. “It might have been.”</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</blockquote>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Choking back a lump in his throat, Ellis now
-dropped his horse’s lines and stepped forward.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Mary!” he called softly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And, at the sound of his voice the girl, with a
-slight start and exclamation, turned and looked up
-at him. With a feeling of deep contrition he remarked
-her pale, tear-stained face, and the dark
-shadows under her splendid eyes, denoting mental
-worry and sleepless nights. Her first surprise over,
-she settled listlessly back again to her old dejected
-attitude, but never taking her great weary eyes off
-his face. Never a word had she uttered yet, but
-continued to gaze silently on the man before her
-with a forlorn, wistful expression that cut him to the
-very heart. Suddenly she began to speak, but her
-voice seemed to ring strangely lifeless and far away
-in his ears.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh! ... and are you back again?” came the
-toneless accents, “to mock me with that handsome,
-cold face of yours? I was happy enough till </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>
-came into my life ... you who’ve laid yourself out
-to make me love you—for nothing, p’r’aps, except
-your own amusement ... ’tis through I am with
-happiness now, I guess ... would to God we’d
-never known each other.... Oh, go! ... go
-away, please!... I—I just can’t bear it....”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Before the infinite pathos of her hopeless look and
-bitter words the strong man shook with his emotion
-until speech seemed beyond him. For, remorse-stricken
-though he was, beneath her reproach he
-glimpsed the evidence of so great a love that he
-could only stand and regard her with awed amazement.
-Aye!—well he knew now, that come what
-would or could, all that love was his, and would be
-his forever. Suddenly he leaned forward with outstretched
-arms and struggling, heart-wrung words
-burst from his lips; a golden gleam from the sinking
-sun, just then, lighting up and intensifying the manly
-beauty of his strong, clean-cut features.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Mary!” he cried hoarsely. “Oh, Mary, my
-girl. I’ve been thoughtless—I didn’t know!...
-forget—forgive!...”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Dazedly the girl stared for a moment at the imploring
-face of the man she loved, her misery-benumbed
-brain failing at first to grasp the significance
-of his impassioned appeal. Then a quick, joyful
-light of comprehension dilated her great weary
-eyes, and with an unsteady movement she arose from
-her seat on the stone and swayed towards him, sobbing
-in her throat. The next minute her round
-arms were about his neck, her eager lips sought his—and
-they were quite alone.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
-</div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span>Long he held the overstrung girl in his arms,
-kissing and soothing her with every endearment that
-a man’s love can command in such ecstasies; smoothing
-her glorious hair and pressing his cheek to hers
-with whispered, broken words of affection until she
-became calmer, and her happy tears ceased.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Then, gently, he told her the news of his changed
-fortunes and, drawing forth the lawyer’s letter, bade
-the astonished girl read its contents.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“And now, my dear, I want you to read this,
-too,” he said. “You have the right to.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And reverently he handed her the letter of his
-old dead benefactor, silently watching her face as
-she perused its contents. He saw the light gradually
-fade from her eyes, which commenced to fill
-with tears. Her lips quivered and she began to
-sob again softly, as she read on, rocking herself to
-and fro and making no attempt to hide her emotion.
-Presently she ended the missive and looked across
-at her lover with glistening eyes.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh! ... the poor old fellow ... that poor
-old soldier ... oh! this is </span><em class="italics">too</em><span> pitiful for anything!...
-How he must have suffered when he lost her—waiting
-patiently all those years!...”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>She continued to gaze silently at him awhile.
-Then suddenly, with her wet eyes blazing with her
-great love, she leaned forward and flung her arms
-around his neck again with passionate abandon, still
-clutching the letters.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Fwas ut for money ye waithed, ye foolish man?”
-she cried, relapsing into her soft Hibernian brogue
-as she patted his shoulder caressingly. “Och, glory
-be! but ’tis glad I am ye didn’t tell me—or show
-me thim letthers till—till afther!... ’Tis little
-ye must know av th’ heart av a woman loike me!...
-Och, me bhoy! me bhoy! ... a pauper I’d
-have married ye ... an’ loved ye still ... for
-yersilf alane!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>For answer, Ellis tipped her head back on his
-arm and kissed her fondly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Aye!... I guess you would!” he returned,
-with a grim chuckle. “And then p’r’aps both of us
-’ud have been sorry forever after!... No, my
-dear! ... when Poverty knocks on the door, Love
-‘beats it’ out of the window!... I’ve seen too
-many of these ‘Love in a shack’ businesses ...
-everything’s all hunkadory at first ... but it don’t
-last.... You and I’ve worked long enough for
-the powers that be.... Now that’s all changed....
-You shall never know sorrow or worry again—if
-I can help it, Mary, my girl!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>Cheek to cheek, they were silent awhile, gazing
-dreamily across at the distant “Rockies.” Then he
-continued quietly. “First thing I must get my discharge
-from the Force. I’ll forward an application
-to ‘purchase’ tomorrow! Special case ... under
-the circumstances, I think the O.C.’ll recommend it
-all right, though as a rule he’s dead against this
-‘purchasing’ business ... don’t know but what he
-isn’t about right, too ... anyway, ‘Isch ga bibble!’...
-I’ll work it somehow within a month.
-Then we’ll hit for Europe, Mary. A downright
-good long easy-going trip ... taking our time and
-lazying around in all the beautiful old places we’ve
-read or heard about, and never seen.... Rome,
-Venice, and some of those old Moorish places in
-Spain. Then when we’re tired of them and want
-some amusement and change of scene we’ll go to
-Paris, or London—see all the best plays and hear
-all the best singers. Later we’ll go on down through
-the Mediterranean to the north coast of Africa, and
-see Tunis and Algiers and Cairo. By and by, when
-we’re tired of running around, we’ll ‘beat it’ for
-this country again and settle down on a place of our
-own. It won’t be a ‘rawnch,’ like the Honorable
-Percy’s, either.... Guess I know how to run one
-as it </span><em class="italics">should</em><span> be run. I know of a peach of a place—sou’west
-of here—right on the Elbow ... pretty
-place, too—bush all round it and all kinds of good
-feed range and shelter. It’s an ideal place for
-either horses or cattle—horses especially. Belongs
-to old J. G. Robinson. He’s getting on in
-years now and wants to quit the game. I know he’d
-sell out to me—I know him well. It’s the open
-range and the foothills of ‘Sunny Alberta’ for me
-and you, Mary dear—somewhere in the West, anyway ... where
-we can look across at the ‘Rockies’—like
-we’re doing now. We’d never be happy
-anywhere else. Of course ... you won’t be
-cooped up on this precious ranch-in-perspective </span><em class="italics">all</em><span>
-the year round ... neither of us, for that matter.
-It won’t be necessary, for I’m going to try and get
-Barney Gallagher to come to me as my manager.
-I fancy I can fix things with him.”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>The girl, smiling at his enthusiasm with a little
-happy ejaculation, shook him impulsively.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“Oh, let’s wake up!” she cried. “Are we only
-dreaming? ... are you </span><em class="italics">sure</em><span> this isn’t only just a
-beautiful dream, from which we’ll wake up presently?
-I can’t realize it’s all true, yet!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>He tilted her chin up and gazed into the glorious
-hazel eyes lovingly.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>“No, my dear,” he murmured, the hard lines of
-his somber face softened into an expression of
-dreamy, quiet peace. “It’s no dream this time.
-I’m done with my hopeless, empty dreams now!
-I’m a poor man no longer! Oh, Mary, my girl!
-My great big splendid-looking wife-to-be! ... how
-I surely do love you! Promise me you’re going to
-be very, very happy now, and give me another kiss!
-We’ll have to be getting back. I don’t want to be
-getting into Mrs. T’s bad books again,” he added,
-grinning. “She gave me orders ... very peremptory
-orders ... but I think I can report that
-I’ve carried ’em out! Now give that kiss!”</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>What a wonderful change—spiritually and physically—a
-little love can effect! Gone were all poor
-Mary’s dark shadows, pallor, and weary despondency.
-Once again her laughing long-lashed hazel
-eyes shone with the happy lights of yore. Locked
-in each other’s arms, for the time being, in a rose-tinted
-world of their own and completely oblivious
-to their surroundings, they happened to sway up
-against Johnny who, turning his head, with a mildly
-inquiring eye, tucked up his nigh fetlock and nibbled
-at them for sugar, nickering softly the while.</span></p>
-<p class="pnext"><span>And Mary’s horse, down on the flat below, whinnied
-back a responsive “All’s Well.”</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
-</div>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="larger">Footnote:</span></p>
-<div class="container footnotes">
-<div class="footnote-group">
-<table class="docutils footnote" frame="void" id="id2" rules="none">
-<colgroup><col class="label" /><col /></colgroup>
-<tbody valign="top">
-<tr><td class="label"><a class="fn-backref" href="#id1">[<span class="smaller">1</span>]</a></td><td><p class="first last pfirst"><span class="smaller">A glossary of South African, and other words will be found at the end.</span></p>
-</td></tr>
-</tbody>
-</table>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div class="clearpage">
-</div>
-<div class="align-None container plainpage">
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span class="larger">GLOSSARY</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Aasvogel</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) A species of South African vulture. (</span><em class="italics">Carrion.</em><span>)</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Allemachtig</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Almighty!</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Adios</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Spanish</em><span>) Good-by!</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Dekho</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Hindustani</em><span>) Look.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Disselboom</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Wagon-tongue.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Dopper</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) A term generally applied to the Boers in S. A.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Doed</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Dead.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Dorp</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) A small town.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Drink hael</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Signifying “Drink hearty!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Dronk</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Drunk.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Eyck! Eyck! Azi-wan-n! Ari-tsemah! Hamba-ke!</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Kaffir expressions, urging on horse, oxen, or mule</em><span>) Literally—“Get up there! Go on!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Inspanning</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Harnessing up horse, oxen, or mule teams.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Indaba</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Zulu</em><span>) Talk, language.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">I Korner</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) An expression of incredulity, “understand!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Intombi</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Zulu</em><span>) Young woman.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Isch Ga Bibble!</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Yiddish</em><span>) “I should worry!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Ja</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Yes!</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Kinders</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Children.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Kopje</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Small hill, or butte.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Krantzes</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Rocky precipices.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Laager</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Camp, abode.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Leugenaar</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Liar.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Meerkat</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) A species of animal like a gigantic gopher which burrows on the veldt.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Myjnheer</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch</em><span>) Mr.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">N’dipe Manzi</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Kaffir</em><span>) “Give me some water!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Nee-moyee</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Cree</em><span>) “No!” (Pronounced “Naz-mo-yer.”)</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Outspan</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Unharnessing horse, oxen, or mule teams.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Paseur</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Spanish</em><span>) Walk.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Pronto!</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Spanish</em><span>) “Quick! Look sharp!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Salue!</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Signifying</em><span>) “Here’s luck!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Saku Bona N’kos!</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Kaffir</em><span>) “Good day, Chief.”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Saku Bona, Umlungu</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Kaffir</em><span>) “Good day, White Man!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Sjambok</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Rawhide whip.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span>“</span><span class="small-caps">Skiet die Verdoe Schepsel!</span><span>”—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) “Shoot the damned rascal!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Soor</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Hindustani</em><span>) Swine.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Taal</span><span>—South African Dutch language.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Trek</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) March, travel.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Tronk</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Gaol.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Uitlander</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Outlander. Unfranchised by the S. A. Republic.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span>“</span><span class="small-caps">Umbagi!</span><span>”—(</span><em class="italics">Kaffir</em><span>) Signifying “Move on there!” “Get along!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Umfundusi</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Kaffir</em><span>) Preacher.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Umlungu</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Kaffir</em><span>) “White man!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Vierkleur</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) The flag of the late South African Republics.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span>“</span><span class="small-caps">Voertsek, Du Verdomde Schelm!</span><span>”—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) “Get out, you damned rascal!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span class="small-caps">Vrouw</span><span>—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) Wife.</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span>“</span><span class="small-caps">Wacht-een-bietje!</span><span>”—(</span><em class="italics">Dutch Taal</em><span>) “Wait a bit!”</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span>“</span><span class="small-caps">Wana!</span><span>”—(</span><em class="italics">Kaffir</em><span>) “Stop!” “Halt there!”</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="clearpage">
-</div>
-<div class="align-None container plainpage">
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>RALPH CONNOR’S STORIES OF THE NORTHWEST</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap’s list</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">THE SKY PILOT IN NO MAN’S LAND</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>The clean-hearted, strong-limbed man of the West leaves
-his hills and forests to fight the battle for freedom in the
-old world.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">BLACK ROCK</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>A story of strong men in the mountains of the West.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">THE SKY PILOT</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>A story of cowboy life, abounding in the freshest humor,
-the truest tenderness and the finest courage.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">THE PROSPECTOR</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>A tale of the foothills and of the man who came to them
-to lend a hand to the lonely men and women who needed a
-protector.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">THE MAN FROM GLENGARRY</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>This narrative brings us into contact with elemental and
-volcanic human nature and with a hero whose power breathes
-from every word.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">GLENGARRY SCHOOL DAYS</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>In this rough country of Glengarry, Ralph Connor has
-found human nature in the rough.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">THE DOCTOR</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>The story of a “preacher-doctor” whom big men and
-reckless men loved for his unselfish life among them.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">THE FOREIGNER</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>A tale of the Saskatchewan and of a “foreigner” who
-made a brave and winning fight for manhood and love.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">CORPORAL CAMERON</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>This splendid type of the upright, out-of-door man about
-which Ralph Connor builds all his stories, appears again in
-this book.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="clearpage">
-</div>
-<div class="align-None container plainpage">
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY</span></p>
-<p class="left noindent pnext"><span>WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap’s list.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">MAVERICKS</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>A tale of the western frontier, where the “rustler” abounds. One of the sweetest
-love stories ever told.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">A TEXAS RANGER</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>How a member of the border police saved the life of an innocent man, followed a
-fugitive to Wyoming, and then passed through deadly peril to ultimate happiness.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">WYOMING</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>In this vivid story the author brings out the turbid life of the frontier with all its
-engaging dash and vigor.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">RIDGWAY OF MONTANA</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics and mining industries
-are the religion of the country.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">BUCKY O’CONNOR</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with the dashing
-spirit of the border.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a bitter feud between
-cattle-men and sheep-herders.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">BRAND BLOTTERS</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>A story of the turbid life of the frontier with a charming love interest running
-through its pages.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">STEVE YEAGER</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>A story brimful of excitement, with enough gun-play and adventure to suit anyone.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">A DAUGHTER OF THE DONS</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>A Western story of romance and adventure, comprising a vivacious and stirring
-tale.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">THE HIGHGRADER</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>A breezy, pleasant and amusing love Story of Western mining life.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">THE PIRATE OF PANAMA</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>A tale of old-time pirates and of modern love, hate and adventure.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">THE YUKON TRAIL</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>A crisply entertaining love story in the land where might makes right.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">THE VISION SPLENDID</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>In which two cousins are contestants for the same prizes; political honors and the
-hand of a girl.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">THE SHERIFF’S SON</em></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>The hero finally conquers both himself and his enemies and wins the love of a
-wonderful girl.</span></p>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
-</div>
-<p class="left noindent pfirst"><span>Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em">
-</div>
-<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- -->
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