diff options
Diffstat (limited to '41889-h/41889-h.html')
| -rw-r--r-- | 41889-h/41889-h.html | 11285 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 11285 deletions
diff --git a/41889-h/41889-h.html b/41889-h/41889-h.html deleted file mode 100644 index 65ddb76..0000000 --- a/41889-h/41889-h.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11285 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?> -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC '-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN' 'http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd'> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> -<meta name="generator" content="Docutils 0.8.1: http://docutils.sourceforge.net/" /> -<style type="text/css"> -/* -Project Gutenberg common docutils stylesheet. - -This stylesheet contains styles common to HTML and EPUB. Put styles -that are specific to HTML and EPUB into their relative stylesheets. - -:Author: Marcello Perathoner (webmaster@gutenberg.org) -:Copyright: This stylesheet has been placed in the public domain. - -This stylesheet is based on: - - :Author: David Goodger (goodger@python.org) - :Copyright: This stylesheet has been placed in the public domain. - - Default cascading style sheet for the HTML output of Docutils. - -*/ - -/* ADE 1.7.2 chokes on !important and throws all css out. */ - -/* FONTS */ - -.italics { font-style: italic } -.no-italics { font-style: normal } - -.bold { font-weight: bold } -.no-bold { font-weight: normal } - -.small-caps { } /* Epub needs italics */ -.gesperrt { } /* Epub needs italics */ -.antiqua { font-style: italic } /* what else can we do ? */ -.monospaced { font-family: monospace } - -.smaller { font-size: smaller } -.larger { font-size: larger } - -.xx-small { font-size: xx-small } -.x-small { font-size: x-small } -.small { font-size: small } -.medium { font-size: medium } -.large { font-size: large } -.x-large { font-size: x-large } -.xx-large { font-size: xx-large } - -.text-transform-uppercase { text-transform: uppercase } -.text-transform-lowercase { text-transform: lowercase } -.text-transform-none { text-transform: none } - -.red { color: red } -.green { color: green } -.blue { color: blue } -.yellow { color: yellow } -.white { color: white } -.gray { color: gray } -.black { color: black } - -/* ALIGN */ - -.left { text-align: left } -.justify { text-align: justify } -.center { text-align: center; text-indent: 0 } -.centerleft { text-align: center; text-indent: 0 } -.right { text-align: right; text-indent: 0 } - -/* LINE HEIGHT */ - -body { line-height: 1.5 } -p { margin: 0; - text-indent: 2em } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.title, .subtitle { page-break-after: avoid } - -.container, .title, .subtitle, #pg-header - { page-break-inside: avoid } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { text-align: justify } - -p.pfirst, p.noindent { - text-indent: 0 -} - -.boxed { border: 1px solid black; padding: 1em } -.topic, .note { margin: 5% 0; border: 1px solid black; padding: 1em } -div.section { clear: both } - -div.line-block { margin: 1.5em 0 } /* same leading as p */ -div.line-block.inner { margin: 0 0 0 10% } -div.line { margin-left: 20%; text-indent: -20%; } -.line-block.noindent div.line { margin-left: 0; text-indent: 0; } - -hr.docutils { margin: 1.5em 40%; border: none; border-bottom: 1px solid black; } -div.transition { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -.vfill, .vspace { border: 0px solid white } - -.title { margin: 1.5em 0 } -.title.with-subtitle { margin-bottom: 0 } -.subtitle { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -/* header font style */ -/* http://dev.w3.org/csswg/css3-fonts/#propdef-font-size */ - -h1.title { font-size: 200%; } /* for book title only */ -h2.title, p.subtitle.level-1 { font-size: 150%; margin-top: 4.5em; margin-bottom: 2em } -h3.title, p.subtitle.level-2 { font-size: 120%; margin-top: 2.25em; margin-bottom: 1.25em } -h4.title, p.subtitle.level-3 { font-size: 100%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; font-weight: bold; } -h5.title, p.subtitle.level-4 { font-size: 89%; margin-top: 1.87em; margin-bottom: 1.69em; font-style: italic; } -h6.title, p.subtitle.level-5 { font-size: 60%; margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2.5em } - -/* title page */ - -h1.title, p.subtitle.level-1, -h2.title, p.subtitle.level-2 { text-align: center } - -#pg-header, -h1.document-title { margin: 10% 0 5% 0 } -p.document-subtitle { margin: 0 0 5% 0 } - -/* PG header and footer */ -#pg-machine-header { } -#pg-produced-by { } - -li.toc-entry { list-style-type: none } -ul.open li, ol.open li { margin-bottom: 1.5em } - -.attribution { margin-top: 1.5em } - -.example-rendered { - margin: 1em 5%; border: 1px dotted red; padding: 1em; background-color: #ffd } -.literal-block.example-source { - margin: 1em 5%; border: 1px dotted blue; padding: 1em; background-color: #eef } - -/* DROPCAPS */ - -/* BLOCKQUOTES */ - -blockquote { margin: 1.5em 10% } - -blockquote.epigraph { } - -blockquote.highlights { } - -div.local-contents { margin: 1.5em 10% } - -div.abstract { margin: 3em 10% } -div.image { margin: 1.5em 0 } -div.caption { margin: 1.5em 0 } -div.legend { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -.hidden { display: none } - -.invisible { visibility: hidden; color: white } /* white: mozilla print bug */ - -a.toc-backref { - text-decoration: none ; - color: black } - -dl.docutils dd { - margin-bottom: 0.5em } - -div.figure { margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em } - -img { max-width: 100% } - -div.footer, div.header { - clear: both; - font-size: smaller } - -div.sidebar { - margin: 0 0 0.5em 1em ; - border: medium outset ; - padding: 1em ; - background-color: #ffffee ; - width: 40% ; - float: right ; - clear: right } - -div.sidebar p.rubric { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-size: medium } - -ol.simple, ul.simple { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -ol.toc-list, ul.toc-list { padding-left: 0 } -ol ol.toc-list, ul ul.toc-list { padding-left: 5% } - -ol.arabic { - list-style: decimal } - -ol.loweralpha { - list-style: lower-alpha } - -ol.upperalpha { - list-style: upper-alpha } - -ol.lowerroman { - list-style: lower-roman } - -ol.upperroman { - list-style: upper-roman } - -p.credits { - font-style: italic ; - font-size: smaller } - -p.label { - white-space: nowrap } - -p.rubric { - font-weight: bold ; - font-size: larger ; - color: maroon ; - text-align: center } - -p.sidebar-title { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-weight: bold ; - font-size: larger } - -p.sidebar-subtitle { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-weight: bold } - -p.topic-title, p.admonition-title { - font-weight: bold } - -pre.address { - margin-bottom: 0 ; - margin-top: 0 ; - font: inherit } - -.literal-block, .doctest-block { - margin-left: 2em ; - margin-right: 2em; } - -span.classifier { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-style: oblique } - -span.classifier-delimiter { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-weight: bold } - -span.interpreted { - font-family: sans-serif } - -span.option { - white-space: nowrap } - -span.pre { - white-space: pre } - -span.problematic { - color: red } - -span.section-subtitle { - /* font-size relative to parent (h1..h6 element) */ - font-size: 100% } - -table { margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; border-spacing: 0 } -table.align-left, table.align-right { margin-top: 0 } - -table.table { border-collapse: collapse; } - -table.table.hrules-table thead { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 2px 0 0 } -table.table.hrules-table tbody { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 2px 0 } -table.table.hrules-rows tr { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 0 0 1px } -table.table.hrules-rows tr.last { border-width: 0 } -table.table.hrules-rows td, -table.table.hrules-rows th { padding: 1ex 1em; vertical-align: middle } - -table.table tr { border-width: 0 } -table.table td, -table.table th { padding: 0.5ex 1em } -table.table tr.first td { padding-top: 1ex } -table.table tr.last td { padding-bottom: 1ex } -table.table tr.first th { padding-top: 1ex } -table.table tr.last th { padding-bottom: 1ex } - - -table.citation { - border-left: solid 1px gray; - margin-left: 1px } - -table.docinfo { - margin: 3em 4em } - -table.docutils { } - -div.footnote-group { margin: 1em 0 } -table.footnote td.label { width: 2em; text-align: right; padding-left: 0 } - -table.docutils td, table.docutils th, -table.docinfo td, table.docinfo th { - padding: 0 0.5em; - vertical-align: top } - -table.docutils th.field-name, table.docinfo th.docinfo-name { - font-weight: bold ; - text-align: left ; - white-space: nowrap ; - padding-left: 0 } - -/* used to remove borders from tables and images */ -.borderless, table.borderless td, table.borderless th { - border: 0 } - -table.borderless td, table.borderless th { - /* Override padding for "table.docutils td" with "!important". - The right padding separates the table cells. */ - padding: 0 0.5em 0 0 } /* FIXME: was !important */ - -h1 tt.docutils, h2 tt.docutils, h3 tt.docutils, -h4 tt.docutils, h5 tt.docutils, h6 tt.docutils { - font-size: 100% } - -ul.auto-toc { - list-style-type: none } -</style> -<style type="text/css"> -/* -Project Gutenberg HTML docutils stylesheet. - -This stylesheet contains styles specific to HTML. -*/ - -/* FONTS */ - -/* em { font-style: normal } -strong { font-weight: normal } */ - -.small-caps { font-variant: small-caps } -.gesperrt { letter-spacing: 0.1em } - -/* ALIGN */ - -.align-left { clear: left; - float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -</style> -<title></title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="Benton of the Royal Mounted" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Roger Frank" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Ralph S. Kendall" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1918" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="41889" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-01-20" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="Benton of the Royal Mounted" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="Benton of the Royal Mounted" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="benton.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-01-21T05:38:31.392665+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41889" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Ralph S. Kendall" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2013-01-20" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -<style type="text/css"> -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -</head> -<body> -<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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>BENTON OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-3 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h3 class="level-3 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h3> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41889"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41889</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set -forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to -protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge -for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not -charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is -very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as -creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. -They may be modified and printed and given away – you may do -practically </span><em class="italics">anything</em><span> with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution.</span></p> -<div class="level-4 section" id="the-full-project-gutenberg-license"> -<span id="project-gutenberg-license"></span><h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>The Full Project Gutenberg License</span></h4> -<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">Please read this before you distribute or use this work.</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<div class="level-5 section" id="section-1-general-terms-of-use-redistributing-project-gutenberg-electronic-works"> -<h5 class="level-5 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 1. General Terms of Use & Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works</span></h5> -<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.A.</strong><span> By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by -the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.B.</strong><span> “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.C.</strong><span> The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United -States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a -right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free -access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works -in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project -Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with -the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format -with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it -without charge with others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.D.</strong><span> The copyright laws of the place where you are located also -govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most -countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the -United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms -of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.</strong><span> Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.1.</strong><span> The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<p class="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 Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a></p> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.E.2.</strong><span> If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating -that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work -can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without -paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing -access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with -or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements -of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of -the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in -paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.3.</strong><span> If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and -distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and -any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted -with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of -this work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.4.</strong><span> Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project -Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a -part of this work or any other work associated with Project -Gutenberg™.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.5.</strong><span> Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute -this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.6.</strong><span> You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other -than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ web site -(</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a><span>), you must, at no additional cost, fee or -expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a -means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original -“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include -the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.7.</strong><span> Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.8.</strong><span> You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided -that</span></p> -<ul class="open"> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from -the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you -already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to -the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to -donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 -days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally -required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments -should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, -“Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation.”</span></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies -you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he -does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ -License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all -copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue -all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ -works.</span></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of -any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the -electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of -receipt of the work.</span></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free -distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.</span></p> -</li> -</ul> -<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.E.9.</strong><span> If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and -Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact -the Foundation as set forth in Section 3. below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.</strong></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.1.</strong><span> Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend -considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe -and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg™ -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.2.</strong><span> LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES – Except for the -“Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the -Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the -Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.3.</strong><span> LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND – If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.4.</strong><span> Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set -forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS,’ WITH -NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.5.</strong><span> Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.6.</strong><span> INDEMNITY – You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, -the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="level-5 section" id="section-2-information-about-the-mission-of-project-gutenberg"> -<h5 class="level-5 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™</span></h5> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™'s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain -freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To -learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and -how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the -Foundation web page at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.pglaf.org">http://www.pglaf.org</a><span> .</span></p> -</div> -<div class="level-5 section" id="section-3-information-about-the-project-gutenberg-literary-archive-foundation"> -<h5 class="level-5 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation</span></h5> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf</a><span> . Contributions to the -Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to -the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. -S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are -scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is -located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) -596-1887, email </span><a class="reference external" href="mailto:business@pglaf.org">business@pglaf.org</a><span>. Email contact links and up to date -contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.pglaf.org">http://www.pglaf.org</a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For additional contact information:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Dr. Gregory B. Newby</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Chief Executive and Director</span></div> -<div class="line"><a class="reference external" href="mailto:gbnewby@pglaf.org">gbnewby@pglaf.org</a></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -</div> -<div class="level-5 section" id="section-4-information-about-donations-to-the-project-gutenberg-literary-archive-foundation"> -<h5 class="level-5 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation</span></h5> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without wide spread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing -the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely -distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest array of -equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to -$5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status -with the IRS.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate</a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate</a></p> -</div> -<div class="level-5 section" id="section-5-general-information-about-project-gutenberg-electronic-works"> -<h5 class="level-5 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works.</span></h5> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the -U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's -eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, -compressed (zipped), HTML and others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Corrected </span><em class="italics">editions</em><span> of our eBooks replace the old file and take over -the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is -renamed. </span><em class="italics">Versions</em><span> based on separate sources are treated as new -eBooks receiving new filenames and etext numbers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a></p> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including -how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe -to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</body> -</html> |