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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15940-8.txt b/15940-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0371784 --- /dev/null +++ b/15940-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7132 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Luck of the Mounted, by Ralph S. Kendall + + +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 www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Luck of the Mounted + A Tale of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police + + +Author: Ralph S. Kendall + +Release Date: May 30, 2005 [eBook #15940] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED + +A Tale of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police + +by + +SERGEANT RALPH S. KENDALL + +Ex-Member of the R.N.W.M.P. + +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers New York + +1920 + + + + + + + + This truest of stories confirms beyond doubt, + That truest of adages--"Murder will out!" + In vain may the blood-spiller "double" and fly, + In vain even witchcraft and sorcery try: + Although for a time he may 'scape, by-and-by + He'll be sure to be caught by a Hue and a Cry! + --THE INGOLDSBY LEGEND + + + + +TO + +MY OLD COMRADES + + +PRESENT, AND EX-MEMBERS OF THE + +R.N.W.M. POLICE + + +THIS WORK IS DEDICATED WITH EVERY KIND THOUGHT + + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + _O sing us a song of days that are gone-- + Of men and happenings--of war and peace; + We love to yarn of "th' times that was" + As our hair grows gray, and our years increase. + So--revert we again to our ancient lays-- + Fill we our pipes, and our glasses raise-- + "Salue! to those stirring, bygone days!" + Cry the old non-coms of the Mounted Police._ + MEMORIES + + +All day long the blizzard had raged, in one continuous squalling moaning +roar--the fine-spun snow swirling and drifting about the +barrack-buildings and grounds of the old Mounted Police Post of L. +Division. Whirraru!-ee!--thrumm-mm! hummed the biting nor'easter through +the cross-tree rigging of the towering flag-pole in the centre of the +wind-swept square, while the slapping flag-halyards kept up an infernal +"devil's tattoo." With snow-bound roof from which hung huge icicles, +like walrus-tusks, the big main building loomed up, ghostly and +indistinct, amidst the whirling, white-wreathed world, save where, from +the lighted windows broad streamers of radiance stabbed the surrounding +gloom; reflecting the driving snow-spume like dust-motes dancing in a +sunbeam. + +Enveloped in snow-drifts and barely visible in the uncertain light there +clustered about the central structure the long, low-lying guard-room, +stables, quartermaster's store, and several smaller adjacent buildings +comprising "The Barracks." It was a bitter February night in South +Alberta. + +From the vicinity of the guard-room the muffled-up figure of a man, with +head down against the driving blizzard, padded noiselessly with +moccasined feet up the pathway leading to the main building. Soon +reaching his destination, he dived hastily through the double storm-doors +of the middle entrance into the passage, and banged them to. + +Flanking him on either side, in welcome contrast to the bitter world +outside, he beheld the all-familiar sight of two inviting portals, each +radiating light, warmth, and good fellowship--the one on his right hand +particularly. A moment he halted irresolutely between regimental canteen +and library; then, for some reason best known to himself, he steadily +ignored both, for the time being, and passing on began slowly to mount a +short flight of stairs at the end of the passage. + +Sweet music beguiled each reluctant step of his ascent: the tinkle of a +piano accompaniment to a roaring jovial chorus from the canteen assuring +him with plaintive, but futile insistence just then, that-- + + _Beer, beer! was glorious beer, etc_. + +Reaching the landing he paused for a space in an intent listening +attitude outside the closed door of a room marked No. 3. From within +came the sounds of men's voices raised in a high-pitched, gabbling +altercation. + +Turning swiftly to an imaginary audience, his expressive young +countenance contorted into a grimace of unholy glee, the listener flung +aloft his arms and blithely executed a few noiseless steps of an +impromptu war-dance. + +"They're at it again!" he muttered ecstatically. + +Some seconds he capered thus in pantomime; then, as swiftly composing his +features into a mask-like expression, he turned the handle and entered. +On the big thermometer nailed outside the Orderly-room the mercury may +have registered anything between twenty and thirty below zero, but inside +Barrack-room No. 3 the temperature at that moment was warm enough. + +Two men, seated at either end Of a long table in the centre of the room, +busily engaged in cleaning their accoutrements, glanced up casually at +his entrance; then, each vouchsafing him a preoccupied salutory mumble, +they bent to their furbishing with the brisk concentration peculiar to +"Service men" the world over. As an accompaniment to their labours, in +desultory fashion, they kept alive the embers of a facetious wrangling +argument--their respective vocabularies, albeit more or less ensanguined, +exhibiting a fluent and masterly range of quaint barrack-room idiom and +invective. + +Both were clad in brown duck "fatigue slacks," the rolled-up sleeves of +their "gray-back" shirts disclosing the fact that the sinewy forearms of +both men were decorated with gay and fanciful specimens of the tattoo +artist's genius. A third man, similarly habited, lay stretched out, +apparently sleeping on one of the cots that were arranged around the +room. Opening his eyes he greeted the newcomer with a lethargic "'Lo, +Redmond!"; then, turning over on his side, he relapsed once more into the +arms of Morpheus--his nasal organ proclaiming that fact beyond doubt. + +The orderly aspect of the room bore mute evidence of regimental +discipline. The blankets--with the sheets placed in the centre--were +strapped into a neat roll at the head of each tartan-rugged cot, at the +foot of which lay a folded black oil-sheet. Above, on a small shelf, +were the spare uniform and Stetson hat, flanked on either side by a pair +of high brown "Strathcona" riding-boots, with straight-shanked +"cavalry-jack" spurs attached. On pegs underneath hung the regulation +side-arms,--a "Sam Browne" belt and holster containing the Colt's .45 +Service revolver. A rifle-rack at the end of the room contained its +quota of Winchester carbines. + +The last arrival, whom the sleeper had designated "Redmond," proceeded to +divest himself of his short fur coat and, after dashing the snow from it +and his muskrat-faced cap, unbuckled his side-arms, and hung all up at +the head of his own particular cot. + +Flashing across our retrospective mind-screens, as at times we dreamily +delve into the past, beloved faces come and go. Forever in the memory of +the writer, as his ideal conception of healthy, virile splendid Youth +personified, will stand the bronzed, debonair, clean-shaven young face of +George Redmond--or "Reddy," as he was more familiarly dubbed by his +comrades of L. Division. + +Handsome his countenance could not have been termed--the features were +too strongly-marked and roughly-hewn. But it was an undeniably open, +attractive and honest one--the sort of face that instinctively invited +one's "Hail, fellow, well met!" trust at first sight. His hair was dark +auburn in colour, short and wavy, with a sort of golden tinge in it; his +forehead was broad and open, and below it were two uncommonly waggish +blue eyes. His habitual expression was a mixture of nonchalant good +humour and gay insouciance, but the slightly aquiline, prominent nose and +the set of the square aggressive jaw belied in a measure the humourous +curl of the lips. + +Those who knew his disposition well were fully aware how swiftly the +mocking smile could vanish from that indolent young face on occasion--how +unpleasantly those wide blue orbs could contract beneath scowling brows +into mere pin-points of steel and ice. Slightly above middle height, +well-set-up and strongly, though not heavily made, the lines of his +clean-built figure suggested the embodiment of grace, strength and +activity. + +He was dressed in the regulation winter uniform of the Force, consisting +of a scarlet-serge tunic, dark-blue cord riding breeches with the broad +yellow stripe down the side, thick black woollen stockings reaching to +the knee, and buckskin moccasins with spurs attached. Over the +stockings, and rolled tightly down upon the tops of the moccasins as +snow-excluders, were a pair of heavy gray socks. + +Wriggling out of his tightly-fitting red serge he carelessly flung that +article onto the next cot; then, filling and lighting a pipe, he +stretched out comfortably upon his own. With hands clasped behind his +head he lazily watched the two previously-mentioned men at their cleaning +operations, his expressive face registering indolent but mischievous +interest, as he listened to their wrangling. + +"No!" resumed one of the twain emphatically, apropos of some previous +contention, "No, by gum! this division ain't what it used to be in them +days." + +He gave vent to a reminiscent sigh as he spat upon and rubbed up some +powdered brick-dust. + +"Billy Herchmer was O.C., Fred Bagley was Sergeant-Major--and there was +Harry Hetherington, Ralph Bell, De Barre, Jeb Browne, Pennycuik, and all +them old-timers. Eyah! th' times that was! th' times that was! Force's +all filled up now mostly with 'Smart Aleck' kids, like Reddy, here, +an'"--he shot a glance of calculating invitation at his vis-a-vis, +Hardy--"'old sweats' from the Old Country Imperials." + +Artfully to start some trivial but decidedly inflammable barrack-room +argument was one of Corporal Dave McCullough's pet diversions. At this +somewhat doubtful pastime he would exhibit a knowledge of human nature +and an infinite patience worthy of a better object. From some occult +reasoning of his Celtic soul the psychological moment he generally chose +as being likely the most fruitful of results was either a few minutes +before, or after "Lights Out." + +When the ensuing conflagration had blazed to the desired stage he would +quietly extinguish his own vocal torch and lie back on his cot with a +sort of "Mark Antony" "Now let it work!" chuckle. "Getting their goats" +he termed it. Usually though, when the storm of bad language and boots +had subsided, his dupes, too, like those of "Silver Street" were wont to +scratch their heads and commune one with another:-- + + --_begod, I wonder why_? + +He was a heavy-shouldered man; middle-aged, with thick, crisp iron-gray +hair and moustache and a pair of humourous brown eyes twinkling in a +lined, weather-beaten face. His slightly nasal voice was dry and +penetrating to the point of exasperation. For many years he had acted as +"farrier" to L. Division. + +George warily accepted the share of the pleasantry extended to him with a +shrug, and a non-committal grin. But Hardy chose to regard it as a +distinct challenge, and therefore a promising bone of contention. He +gloated over it awhile ere pouncing. + +A medium-sized, wiry, compactly-built man bodily, Hardy bore lightly the +weight of his forty-five years. His hair was of that uncertain sandy +colour which somehow never seems to turn gray; the edges of the +crisply-curling forelock being soaped, rolled and brushed up into that +approved tonsorial ornament known in barrack-room parlance as a "quiff." +His complexion was of that peculiar olive-brown shade especially +noticeable in most Anglo-Indians. In his smart, soldierly aspect, +biting, jerky Cockney speech and clipped, wax-pointed moustache he +betrayed unmistakably the ex-Imperial cavalry-man. + +"Old sweats!" he echoed sarcastically--he pronounced it "aoweld"--"Yas! +you go tell that t' th' Marines, me lad! . . . Took a few o' th' sime +'old sweats' t' knock ''Ay Leg!' 'Straw Leg' inter some o' you mossbacks +at th' stort orf. Gee! Har! oh, gorblimey, yas!" He illustrated his +trenchant remarks in suggestive pantomime. + +"Ah!" quoth McCullough blithely, "Yu' know th' sayin'--'Old soldier--old +stiff?' . . ." + +His adversary burnished a spur viciously. "Old pleeceman--old son of +a--" he retorted with a spiteful grin. "W'y, my old Kissiwasti here +knows more abaht drill'n wot you do." He indicated a rather +disreputable-looking gray parrot, preening itself in a cage which stood +upon a cot nearby. + +At the all-familiar sound of its name the bird suddenly ceased its +monotonous beak and claw gymnastics for a space, becoming on the instant +alertly attentive. There came a preliminary craning of neck and winking +of white-parchment-lidded eyes, and then, in shockingly human fashion it +proceeded to give voluble utterance to some startling samples of +barrack-room profanity. Its shrill invective would have awakened the +dead. The whistling, regular snores of the sleeper suddenly wound up +with a gasping gurgle; he opened his eyes and, in a strong cereal accent +gave vent to a somnolent peevish protest. + +"Losh! . . . whot wi' you fellers bickerin' an' yon damn birrd currsin' I +canna sleep! . . . gie th'--" + +But Hardy silenced him with a warning finger. + +"Sh-sh! McSporran!" he hissed in a loud eager whisper, "Jes' 'awk t' +im? . . . gort th' real reg'mental tatch 'as old Kissiwasti! ain't +he?"--his face shone with simple pride--"d' yer 'ken' that? sh-sh! listen +now! . . . Yer shud 'ear 'im s'y 'Oot, mon!' . . . 'Awk t'im up an' +tellin'yer _w'y_ th' Jocks wear th' kilts." + +Awhile McSporran listened, but with singular lack of enthusiasm. +Presently, swinging his legs over the side of the cot with a weary sigh, +he proceeded to fill his pipe. He was a thick-set, grey-eyed fair man +about thirty, with a stolid, though shrewd, clean-shaven face. + +"Best ye stickit tae wha' ye ca' 'English,' auld mon!" he remarked +irritably, "Baith yersel' an' yer plurry pairrut. . . . Ou ay, I +ken!--D'ye ken John Peel?--" + +And, in derision he hummed a few lines of a rather vulgar parody of that +ancient song that obtained around Barracks. + +"Say, by gad, though! that bird is a fright!" ejaculated George suddenly, +"Holy Doodle! just listen to what he said then? . . . If ever he starts +in to hand out tracts like that when the O.C.'s up here inspecting he'll +get invested with the Order of the 'Neck-Wring' for usurping _his_ pet +privilege. You'd better let Brankley the quartermaster have him. He was +up here the other day and heard him. He was tickled to death--said he'd +like to buy him off you, and 'top him off'--finish his education." + +"Oh, 'e did, did 'e?" growled Hardy mutinously, but with ill-concealed +interest, "Well, 'e ain't a-goin' t' 'ave 'im!" He breathed hard upon a +buckle and polished it to his satisfaction. "Brankley is some connosser +I will admit," he conceded grudgingly, "but Kissiwasti's got orl th' +'toppin orf wot's good fur 'im--dahn Regina--'e went through a reg'lar +course dahn there--took 'is degree, so t' speak. . . . I uster tike an' +'ang 'is kydge hup in that little gallery in th' ridin school of a +mornin'--when Inspector Chappell, th' ridin' master wos breakin' in a +bunch o' rookies--'toppin' orf,' wot? . . ." + +"Tchkk!" clucked McCullough wearily. "What is the use of arguin' with an +old sweat like him? . . . Hardy'll be happy enough in Hell, so long as +he can have his bloomin' old blackguard of a parrot along with him. If +he can't there will be a pretty fuss." + +"Bear up, Hardy!" comforted George. "When you've got that 'quiff' of +yours all fussed up, and those new 'square-pushin'' dress-pants on you're +some 'hot dog.' . . . Now, if I thought you could 'talk pretty' and +behave yourself I'd--" + +The old soldier grinned diabolically. "Sorjint?" he broke in mincingly +"c'n I fall out an' tork t' me sister?--garn, Reddy! wipe orf yer +chin! . . . though if I did 'appen t' 'ave a sister she might s'y th' +sime fing abaht me, now, as she might s'y abaht you--to a lydy-fren' o' +'er's, p'raps. . . ." + +"Say what?" demanded George incautiously. + +Hardy chuckled again, "'Ere comes one o' them Mounted Pleecemen, me +dear,--orl comb an' spurs,--mark time in front there. . . !" And he +emitted an imitation of a barnyard cackle. + +McCullough shot a glance at Redmond's face. "Can th' grief" he remarked +unsympathetically, "you're fly enough usually . . . but you fairly asked +for it that time." + +Hardy spat into a cuspidor with long-range accuracy. He beamed with +cheerful malevolence awhile upon his tormentors; then, uplifting a +cracked falsetto in an unmusical wail, to the tune of "London Bridge is +Falling Down," assured them that-- + + "_Old soweljers never die, never die, never die, + Old soweljers never--_" + +With infinite mockery Redmond's boyish voice struck in-- + + "_Young soldiers wish they would, wish they--_" + +"'Ere!" remonstrated Hardy darkly, "chack it, Reddy! . . . You know wot +'appens t' them as starts in, a-guyin' old soweljers?--eh?--Well, I tell +yer now!--worse'n wot 'appened t' them fresh kids in th' Bible wot mocked +th' old blowke abaht 'is bald 'ead." + +"_Isch ga bibble_! I don't care!" bawled the abandoned George; "can't be +much worse than doing 'straight duty' round Barracks, here!--same thing, +day in, day out--go and look at the 'duty detail' board--Regimental +Number--Constable Redmond, 'prisoner's escort'--punching gangs of +prisoners around all day long, on little rotten jobs about Barracks--and +'night guard' catching you every third night and--" + +"Oyez! oyez! oyez! you good men of this--" + +"Oh, yes! you can come the funny man all right, Mac--you've got a 'staff' +job. Straight duty don't affect you. Why don't they shove me out on +detachment again, and give me another chance to do real police +work? . . . I tell you I'm fed up--properly. . . . I wish I was out of +the blooming Force--I'm not 'wedded' to it, like you." + +"'Ear, 'ear!" chimed in Hardy, with a sort of miserable heartiness. +McSporran's contribution was merely a dour Scotch grin. In the moment's +silence that followed a tremendous bawling squall of wind rocked the +building to its very foundations. The back-draught of it sucked open the +door, and, borne upon its wings, the roaring, full-chorused burst of a +popular barrack-room chantey floated up the stairs from the canteen +below-- + + "_Old King Cole was a merry old soul, + And a merry old soul was he-- + He called for his pipe, and he called for his glass, + And he called for his old M.P._" + +Outside the blizzard still moaned and howled; every now and then, between +lulls, screeching gusts of sleet beat upon the windows. The parrot, +clinging upside down to the roof of its cage, winked rapidly with +Sphinx-like eyes and inclined its head sideways in an intent listening +attitude. + +"Eyah! but th' Force's a bloomin' good home to some of you, all th' +same," growled McCullough. "Listen to that 'norther'? . . . How'd you +like to be chucked out into th' cold, cold world right now?--You, Hardy! +that's never done nothin' but 'soldier' all your life--you, Reddy! with +your 'collidge edukashun'?" + +George, unmoved, listened respectfully awhile, lying on his stomach with +his chin cupped in his hands. "Must have been a great bunch of fellows +when you first took on the Force, Dave?" he queried presently. + +From sheer force of habit the old policeman glanced at his interlocutor +suspiciously. But that young gentleman's face appearing open and serene, +merely expressing naive interest, he grunted an affirmative "Uh-huh!" and +backed his conviction with a cheerful oath. + +"Ah, they sure was. But where are they all now?" he rambled on in +garrulous reminiscence, "some of 'em rich--some of 'em broke--an' many of +'em back on th' old Force again, an' glad to get their rations. There +was some that talked like you, Mister Bloomin' Reddy!--fed up, an' goin' +to quit--an' did quit--for a time. There was Corky Jones, I mind. Him +that used to blow 'bout th' wonderful jobs he'd got th' pick of when he +was 'time-ex.' All he got was 'reeve' of some little shi-poke burg down +south. Hooshomin its real name, but they mostly call it Hootch +thereabouts. A rotten little dump of 'bout fifty inhabitants. They're +drunk half th' time an' wear each other's clothes. Ugh! filthy +beggars! . . . He's back on th' Force again. There was Gadgett Malone. +Proper dog he was--used to sing 'Love me, an' th' World is Mine.' He got +all balled up with a widder, first crack out o' th' box, an' she shook +him down for his roll an' put th' skids under him in great shape inside +of a month. He's back on th' Force again. There was Barton McGuckin. +When he pulled out he shook hands all around, I mind. Yes, sir! with +tears in his eyes he did. Told us no matter how high he rose in th' +world he'd never forget his old comrades--always rec'gnize 'em on th' +street an' all that. On his way down town he was fool enough to go into +one o' these here Romany Pikey dives for to get his fortune told. This +gypsy woman threw it into him he was goin' to make his fortune in th' +next two or three days by investin' his dough in a certain brand of oil +shares. . . ." + +McCullough paused and filled his pipe with elaborate care, "Th' last time +I see him he was in th' buildin' an' contractin' line--carryin' a hod an' +pushin' an Irishman's buggy . . . There's--but, aw hell! what's th' use +o' talkin'?" he concluded disgustedly. "No! times ain't what they was, +by gum!--rough stuff an' all things was run more real reg'mental them +days--not half th' grousin' either." + +"Reel reg'mental?" echoed Hardy mincingly, "aowe gorblimey! 'awk t'im? +well, wot abaht it? I've done my bit, too!--in Injia. See 'ere; look!" + +He pulled up the loose duck-pant of his right leg. On the outside of the +hairy, spare but muscular limb, an ugly old dirty-white scar zigzagged +from knee to ankle. + +"Paythan knife," he informed them briefly, "but I did th' blowke in wot +give it me." He launched into a lurid account of a border hill-scuffle +that his regiment had been engaged in relating all its ghastly details +with great gusto. "Cleared me lance-point ten times that d'y," he +remarked laconically. "Flint was aour Orf'cer Commandin'--Old 'Doolally +Flint'--'ard old 'ranker' 'e wos. 'E'd worked us sumphin' crool that +week. Night marches an' wot not. I tell yer that man 'ad no 'eart for +men or 'orses. An' you tork ababt bein' reel reg'mental, Mac! . . . 'e +wos a reg'mental old soor if yer like! . . . Fit to drop we wos--wot wos +left o' us, an' th' bloody sun goin' down an' all. But no! 'e give us no +rest--burial fatigue right away. Free big trenches we buried aour pore +fellers in--I can see 'em now. . . ." + +For some few seconds he ceased polishing his glossy, mahogany-shaded "Sam +Browne" belt, and, chin in hand, stared unseeingly straight in front of +him. His audience waited. "Arterwards!" he cleared his throat, +"arterwards--w'en we'd filled in 'e made us put th' trimmin's on--line +'em out 'ead an' foot wiv big bowlders. I mind I'd jes kern a-staggerin' +ap wiv a big stowne for th' 'ead o' Number Free trench, but Doolally kep +me a-markin time till 'e wos ready. 'Kem ap a bit, Private 'Ardy,' 'e +sez, 'kem ap a bit! you're aht o' yer dressin'!' 'e sez. 'Arry Wagstaff, +as wos in Number Two Squordron 'e pulls a bit o' chork aht of 'is pocket, +an' 'e marks on 'is bowlder in big, fat letters 'Lucky soors--in bed +ev'ry night'--but old Doolally 'appened to turn rahnd an' cop 'im at it. +Drum-'ead coort-martial 'Arry gort for that, an' drew ten d'ys Number One +Field Punishment. But that wos old Doolally all over . . . yer might s'y +'e 'adn't no sense o' 'umor, that man. Down country we moves next d'y, +for Peshawur, where th' reg'ment lay. We'd copped a thunderin' lot o' +prisoners--th' Mullah an' all." + +"Wha' d'ye ca' a Mullah?" queried McSporran, with grave interest. + +Hardy, carbine-barrel between knees--struggled with a "pull-through." +"Mullah? well, 'e's a sorter--sorter 'ead blowke," he mumbled lamely. + +"Kind of High Priest?" ventured George. + +The old soldier beamed upon him gratefully, "Ar, that's wot I meant. 'E +stunk that 'igh th' Colonel 'e sez--" + +The storm doors banged below. "Redmond!--oh, Redmond!" The great, +booming, bass voice rang echoing up the stairway. Involuntarily they all +sprang to an attitude of alert attention. Rarely did Tom Belcher have to +speak twice around Barracks. + +"There's the S.M.!" muttered George. Aloud he responded "Coming, +Sergeant-Major!" And he swung downstairs where a powerfully-built man in +a snow and ice-incrusted fur coat awaited him. + +"The O.C.'s orders, Redmond!--get your kit packed and hold yourself in +readiness to pull out on the eleven o'clock West-bound to-morrow. You're +transferred to the Davidsburg detachment. I'll give you your +transport-requisition later." + +The storm doors banged behind him, and then, Redmond, not without design, +forced himself to saunter slowly--very slowly--upstairs again, whistling +nonchalantly the while. + +Expectant faces greeted him. "What's up?" they chorused. With a fine +assumption of indifference he briefly informed them. McSporran received +the news with his customary stolidity, only his gray eyes twinkled and he +chuntered something that was totally unintelligible to anyone save +himself. But its effect upon McCullough and Hardy was peculiar, not to +say, startling in the extreme. With brush and burnisher clutched in +their respective hands they both turned and gaped upon him fish-eyed for +the moment. Then, as their eyes met, those two worthies seemed to +experience a difficulty of articulation. + +Dumfounded himself, George looked from one to the other, "What the +devil's wrong with you fools?" he queried irritably. + +Thereupon, McCullough, still holding the eyes of the Cockney, gasped out +one magical word--"Yorkey!" + +The spell was broken. "W'y, gorblimey!" said Hardy, "Ain't that +queer?--that's jes' wot I wos a-thinkin' . . . Well, Gawd 'elp Sorjint +Slavin now!" With which cryptic utterance he resumed his eternal +polishing. + +"Amen!" responded the farrier piously, "Reddy, here, an' Yorkey on th' +same detachment. . . . What th' one don't know t'other'll teach +him. . . . You'd better let 'em have th' parrot, too." + +McSporran, back on his cot with hands clasped behind his head, gobbled an +owlish "Hoot, mon! th' twa o' them thegither! . . . Losh! but that beats +a' . . . but, hoo lang, O Lard? hoo lang?" + +From various sources George had picked up the broken ends of many strange +rumours relating to the personality and escapades of one Constable Yorke, +of the Davidsburg detachment, whom he had never seen as yet. A hint +here, a whisper there, a shrug and a low-voiced jest between the +sergeant-major and the quartermaster, overheard one day in the Matter's +store. To Redmond it seemed as if a veil of mystery had always enveloped +the person and doings of this man, Yorke. The glamour of it now aroused +all his latent curiosity. + +"Why, what sort of a chap is this Yorke?" he inquired casually. + +McCullough, busily burnishing a bit, shrugged deprecatingly and laughed. +Hardy, putting the last touches to his revolver-holster, made answer, +George thought, with peculiar reticence. + +"Wot, Yorkey? . . . oh, 'e's a 'oly terror 'e is. . . . You arst +Crampton," he mumbled--"arst Taylor--they wos at Davidsburg wiv 'im. +Slavin's orl right but Yorkey!". . . He looked unutterable things. +"Proper broken down Old Country torff 'e is, too. 'E's right there wiv +th' goods at police work, they s'y, but 'e's sure a bad un to 'ave to +live wiv. Free weeks on'y, Crampton stuck it afore 'e applied for a +transfer--Taylor, 'e on'y stuck it free d'ys." + +Redmond made a gesture of exasperation. "Ah-h! come off the perch!" he +snarled pettishly, "what sort of old 'batman's' gaff are you trying to +'get my goat' with?" + +His display of irritation drew an explosive, misthievous cachinnation +from the trio. + +"Old 'batman's' gaff?" echoed the Cockney grinning, "orl right, my fresh +cove--this time next week you'll be tellin' us wevver it's old 'batman's' +gaff, or not." + +Outside, the blizzard still moaned and beat upon the windows, packing the +wind-driven snow in huge drifts about the big main building. Inside, the +canteen roared-- + + "_Then--I--say, boys! who's for a drink with me? + Rum, tum! tiddledy-um! we'll have a fair old spree!_" + +McSporran slid off his cot with surprising alacrity. "Here's ane!" he +announced blithely. Hardy, carefully hanging up his spotless, glossy +equipment at the head of his cot, turned to the farrier who was likewise +engaged in arranging a bridle and a pipe-clayed headrope. + +"Wot abaht it, Mac?" he queried briskly. + +McCullough, in turn looked at Redmond. "All right!" responded that young +gentleman with a boyish shrug and grin, "come on then, you bloomin' old +sponges! let's wet my transfer. I'll have time to pack my kit to-morrow, +before the West-bound pulls out." + +Upon their departing ears, grown wearily familiar to its +monotonous repetition, fell the parrot's customary adieu, as that +disreputable-looking bird swung rhythmically to and fro on its perch. + +"Goo' bye!" it gabbled, "A soldier's farewell' to yeh! goo' bye! goo' +bye!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + _Homeless, ragged and tanned, + Under the changeful sky; + Who so free in the land? + Who so contented as I?_. + THE VAGABOND + + +The long-drawn-out, sweet notes of "Reveille" rang out in the frosty +dawn. Reg. No. ---- Const George Redmond, engaged at that moment in +pulling on his "fatigue-slacks" hummed the trumpet-call's time-honoured +vocal parody-- + + "_I sold a cow, I sold a cow, an' bought a donk-ee--' + Oh--what--a silly old sot you were_!" + +The room buzzed like a drowsy hive with hastily dressing men. Breathing +hotly on the frosted window-pane next his cot, George rubbed a clear +patch and glued his eye to it. The blizzard had died out during the +night leaving the snow-drifted landscape frosty, still and clear. A +rapidly widening strip of blended rose and pale turquoise on the eastern +horizon gave promise of a fine day. + +He turned away with a contented sigh and, descending the stairs, fell in +with the rest of the fur-coated, moccasined men on "Morning Stable +Parade." + +Three hours later, breakfast despatched, blankets rolled and kit and +dunnage bags packed, he received a curt summons from the sergeant-major +to attend the Orderly-room. To the brisk word of command he was +"quick-_marched_" "left-_wheeled_," and "halted" at "attention" before +the desk of the Officer Commanding L. Division. + +"Constable Redmond, Sir!" announced the deep-throated, rumbling bass of +the sergeant-major; and for some seconds George gazed at the silvery hair +and wide bowed shoulders of the seated figure in front of him, who +continued his perusal of some type-written sheets of foolscap, as if +unaware of any interruption. Elsewhere have the kindly personality and +eccentricities of Captain Richard Bargrave been described; "but that," as +Kipling says, "is another story." + +Presently the papers were cast aside, the bowed shoulders in the +splendidly-cut blue-serge uniform squared back in the chair, and Redmond +found himself being scrutinized intently by the all-familiar bronzed old +aristocratic countenance, with its sweeping fair moustache. +Involuntarily he stiffened, though his eyes, momentarily overpowered by +the intensity of that keen gaze, strayed to the level of his superior's +breast and focussed themselves upon two campaign ribbons there, +"North-West Rebellion" and "Ashantee" decorations. + +Suddenly the thin, high, cultured voice addressed +him--whimsically--sarcastic but not altogether unkindly: + +"The Sergeant-Major"--the gold-rimmed pince-nez were swung to an +elevation indicating that individual and the fair moustache was twirled +pensively--"the Sergeant-Major reports that--er--for the past six months +you have been conducting yourself around the Post with fair average"--the +suave tones hardened--"that you have wisely refrained from indulging your +youthful fancies in any more such--er--dam-fool antics, Sir, as +characterized your merry but brief career at the Gleichen detachment, +so--er--I have decided to give you another chance. I have here"--he +fumbled through some papers--"a request from Sergeant Slavin for another +man at Davidsburg. I am transferring you there. Slavin--er--damn the +man! damn the man! what's wrong with him, Sergeant-Major? . . . Two men +have I sent him in as many months, and both of 'em, after a few days +there, on some flimsy pretext or another, applied for transfers to other +detachments. Good men, too. If this occurs again--damme!"--he glared at +his subordinate--"I'll--er--bring that Irish 'ginthleman' into the Post +for a summary explanation. Wire him of this man's transfer! . . . All +right, Sergeant-Major!" + +"About-turrn!--quick-march!" growled again the bass voice of the senior +non-com; and he kept step behind George into the passage. "Here's your +transport requisition, Redmond. Now--take a tumble to yourself, my +lad--on this detachment. You're getting what 'Father' don't give to +many--a second chance. Good-bye!" + +George gripped the proffered hand and looked full into the kindly, +meaning eyes. "Good-bye, S.M.!" he said huskily, "Thanks!" + + +Westward, the train puffed its way slowly along a slight, but continual +up-grade through the foothills, following more or less the winding course +of the Bow River. Despite the cold, clear brilliance of the day, seen +under winter conditions the landscape on either side of the track +presented a rather forlorn, dreary picture. So it appeared to George, +anyway, as he gazed out of the window at the vast, spreading, +white-carpeted valley, the monotonous aspect of which was only +occasionally relieved by sparsely-dotted ranches, small wayside stations, +or when they thundered across high trestle bridges over the +partly-frozen, black, steaming river. + +Two summers earlier he had travelled the same road, on a luxurious trip +to the Coast. The memory of its scenic splendor then, the easy-going +stages from one sumptuous mountain resort to another, now made him feel +slightly dismal and discontented with his present lot. Eye-restful +solace came however with the sight of the ever-nearing glorious +sun-crowned peaks of the mighty "Rockies," sharply silhouetted against +the dazzling blue of the sky. + +Children's voices behind him suddenly broke in upon his reverie. + +"That man!" said a small squeaking treble, "was a hobo. He was sitting +in that car in front with the hard seats an' I went up to him an' I said, +'Hullo, Mister! why don't you wash your face an' shave it? we've all +washed our faces this morning' . . . . We did, didn't we, Alice?--an' +washed Porkey's too, an' he said 'Hullo, Bo! wash my face?--I don't have +to--I might catch cold.'" + +"But Jerry!" said another child's voice, "I don't think he could have +been a real hobo, or he'd have had an empty tomato-can hanging around his +neck on a string, like the pictures of 'Weary Willie' an' 'Tired Tim' in +the funny papers." + +Then ensued the sounds as of a juvenile scuffle and squawk. Master Jerry +apparently resented having his pet convictions treated in this "Doubting +Thomas" fashion, for the next thing George heard him say, was: + +"Goozlemy, goozlemy, goozlemy! . . . No! he hadn't got a tomato-can, +silly! but he'd got a big, fat bottle in his pocket an' he pulled the +cork out of it an' sucked an' I said 'What have you got in your bottle?' +an' he said 'Cold tea' but it didn't smell a bit like cold tea. There's +a Mounted Policeman sitting in that seat in front of us. Let's ask him. +Policemen always lock hoboes up in gaol an' kick them in the stomach, +like you see them in the pictures." + +The next instant there came a pattering of little feet and two small +figures scrambled into the vacant seat in front of Redmond. His gaze +fell on a diminutive, red-headed, inquisitive-faced urchin of some eight +years, and a small, gray-eyed, wistful-looking maiden, perhaps about a +year younger, with hair that matched the boy's in colour. Under one +dimpled arm she clutched tightly to her--upside-down--a fat, squirming +fox-terrier puppy. Hand-in-hand, in an attitude of breathless, +speculative awe, they sat there bolt upright, like two small gophers; +watching intently the face of the uniformed representative of the Law, as +if seeking some reassuring sign. + +It came presently--a kind, boyish, friendly smile that gained the +confidence of their little hearts at once. + +"Hullo, nippers!" he said cheerily. + +"Hullo!" the two small trebles responded. + +"What's your name, son?" + +"Jerry!" + +"Jerry what?" + +An uneasy wriggle and a moment's hesitation then--"Jeremiah!" came a +small--rather sulky--voice. + +Breathing audibly in her intense eagerness the little girl now came to +the rescue. + +"Please, policeman?" she stopped and gulped excitedly--"please, +policeman?--he doesn't like to be called that. . . . It isn't _his_ +fault. He always throws stones at the bad boys when they call him that. +Call him just 'Jerry.'" + +That gamin, turning from a minute examination of Redmond's spurred +moccasins, began to swing his chubby legs and bounce up and down upon the +cushioned seat. + +"Her name's Alice," he volunteered, with a sidelong fling of his +carrot-tinted head. "Yes! she's my sister"--he made a snatch at the pup +whose speedy demise was threatened, from blood to the head--"don't hold +Porkey that way, Alice! his eyes'll drop out." + +But his juvenile confrere shrugged away from his clutch. "Stupid!" she +retorted, with fine scorn, "no they won't . . . . it's on'y guinea pigs +that do that!--when you hold them up by their tails." Nevertheless she +promptly reversed that long-suffering canine, which immediately +demonstrated its gratitude by licking her face effusively. + +The all-important question of the hobo was next commended to his +attention, with a tremendous amount of chattering rivalry, and, with +intense gravity he was cogitating how to render a satisfactory finding to +both factions when steps, and the unmistakable rustle of skirts, sounded +in his immediate rear. Then a lady's voice said, "Oh, there you are, +children! . . . I was wondering where you'd got to." + +The two heads bobbed up simultaneously, with a joyful "Here's Mother!" +and George, turning, glanced with innate, well-bred curiosity at a stout, +pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman who stood beside them. + +"I hope these young imps haven't been bothering you?" she said. "We were +in that car behind, but I was reading and they've been having a great +time romping all over the place. Oh, well! I suppose it's too much to +expect children to keep still on a train." + +With a fond motherly caress she patted the two small flaming heads that +now snuggled boisterously against her on either side. + +"Come now! Messrs. Bubble and Squeak!" she urged teasingly, +"march!--back to our car again!" + +"Bubble and Squeak" seemed appropriate enough just then, to judge by the +many fractious objections immediately voiced by those two small +mutineers. They were loth to part with their latest acquaintance and +weren't above advertising that fact with unnecessary vehemence. Even the +puppy raised a snuffling whine. + +"Boo-hoo!" wailed Jerry, "don't want to go in the other car--me an' Alice +want to stay here--the policeman's goin' to tell us all about +hoboes--he--" + +"Oh, dear!" came a despairing little sigh, "whatever--" + +Their eyes met and, at the droll perplexity he read in hers, George +laughed outright. An explosive frank boyish laugh. He rose with a +courteous gesture. "I'm afraid it's a case of 'if the mountain won't +come to Mahomet,'" he began, with gay sententiousness. "Won't you sit +down?" + +The matron's kindly eyes appraised the bold, manly young face a moment, +then, with a certain leisurely grace, she stepped in between the seats +and, seating herself, lugged her two small charges down beside her. + +"I suppose, under the circumstances, an old woman like me can discard the +conventionalities?" she remarked smilingly. + +Jerry and Alice leered triumphantly at their victim. "Now!" Jerry +shrilled exactingly "tell us all about hoboes!" + +"They do carry empty tomato-cans, don't they?" pleaded Alice. + +It was now their guardian's turn to laugh at his dismay. "You see what +you've let yourself in for now?" she remarked. + +"Seems I am up against it," he admitted, with a rueful grin, "well! must +make good somehow, I suppose?" + +With an infinitely boyish gesture he tipped his fur cap to the back of +his head and leaned forward with finger-tips compressed in approved +story-telling fashion. + +"Once upon a time!--" a breathless "Yes-s"--those two small faces +reminded him much of terriers watching a rat-hole--"there was a hobo." +He thought hard. "He was a very dirty old hobo--he never used to wash +his face. He was walking along the road one day when he heard a little +wee voice call out 'Hey!'. He looked down and he saw an empty tomato-can +on a rubbish heap. Tomato-cans used to be able to talk in those days and +the hoboes were very good to them--always used to drink out of them and +carry them to save them from walking. This can had a picture of its big +red face on the outside. 'Give us a lift?' said the can. 'Where to?' +said the old hobo. 'Back to California, where I came from,' said the +can. 'All right!' said the old hobo, 'I'm goin' there, too.' And he +picked the can up and hung it round his neck and kept on walking till +they came to a house. The window of the house was open and they could +see a big fat bottle on a little table. 'Ah!' said the old hobo 'here's +an old friend of mine!--he's comin' with us, too,' And he shoved his arm +through the window and put the bottle in his pocket. By and by they came +to a river--'Hey!' said the can, again--'What's up?' said the old +hobo--'I'm dry,' said the can--'So am I,' said the hobo; and he dipped +the can in the water and gave it a very little drink. 'Hey!' said the +can, 'give us a drop more!'--'Wait a bit!' said the old hobo, and he +pulled the cork out of the bottle. 'Don't you pour any of that feller +into me!' said the can, 'he'll burn my inside out--an' yours--if you pour +him into me I'll open my mouth where I'm soldered and let him run out, +and you won't be able to drink out of me any more. Chuck him into the +river!--he's no good.' + +"'You shut your mouth!' said the old hobo, 'or I'll chuck you into the +river!' And he poured some of the stuff out of the bottle into the can--" + +At this exciting point poor George halted for breath and mopped his +forehead. He felt fully as thirsty as the tomato-can. But the children +were upon him, clutching his scarlet tunic: + +"What did he do then?" howled Jerry. + +"Eh?" gasped the young policeman,--"oh, he opened his mouth where he was +soldered and let the stuff run out. So the old hobo threw him into the +river. That's why hoboes always pack a bottle with them now instead of a +tomato-can." + +He leaned back with a sigh and, thrusting his hands deep into his +pockets, smiled wanly at his vis-à-vis. + +"There!" he said, with feeble triumph, "I've carried out the sentence." + +And it did him good to drink in her mirthful, waggish laugh. + +"Yes!" she conceded gaily, "you certainly did great execution, though you +look more like a prisoner just reprieved." + +Jerry, screwing up his small snub nose leered triumphantly across her lap +at Alice. "Goozlemy, goozlemy, goozlemy!" he squeaked, "that man was a +real hobo." + +His grimace was returned with interest. Alice hugged her puppy awhile +contentedly, murmuring in that canine's ear, "What a silly old thing that +tomato-can must have been. If I'd been him I'd have kept my mouth shut." + +"Cow Run!" intoned the brakeman monotonously, passing through the +coaches, "Cow Run next stop!" His eye fell on Redmond. "Wish I'd seen +you before, Officer!" he remarked, "I'd have had a hobo for you. Beggar +stole a ride on us from Glenbow, back there. The con's goin' to chuck +him off here--do you want him?" + +"No!" said Redmond shortly, "let the stiff go--I'm going on to +Davidsburg--haven't got time to get messing around with 'vags' now." + +The train began to slow down and presently stopped at a small station. +Mechanically the quartette gazed through the window at the few shivering +platform loungers, and beyond them to the irregular, low-lying facade of +snow-plastered buildings that comprised the dreary main street of the +little town. + +Suddenly the children uttered a shrill yelp. + +"There he is!" cried Alice, darting a small finger at the window-pane. + +"I saw him first!" bawled Jerry. + +And, slouching past along the platform, all huddled-up with hands in +pockets, George beheld a ragged nondescript of a man whose appearance +confirmed Master Jerry's previous assertion beyond doubt. + +The children drummed on the window excitedly. Glancing up at the two +small peering faces the human derelict's red-nosed, stubble-coated visage +contorted itself into a friendly grimace of recognition; at the same +time, with an indescribably droll, swashbuckling swagger he doffed a +shocking dunghill of a hat. + +Suddenly though his jaw dropped and, replacing his battered headpiece, +with double-handed indecent haste the knight of the road executed an +incredibly nimble "right-about turn" and vanished behind the +station-house. Just then came the engine's toot! toot!, the conductor's +warning "All aboar-rd!" and the train started once more on its journey +westward. + +Smiling grimly to himself, the policeman settled back in his seat again +and glanced across at the lady. She was shaking with convulsive laughter. + +"Oh!" she giggled hysterically "he--he must have seen your red coat!" +another spasm of merriment, "it was as good as a pantomime," she murmured. + +Evincing a keen interest in his soldierly vocation, for awhile she +subjected him to an exacting and minute inquisition anent the duties and +life of a Mounted Policeman. In this agreeable fashion the time passed +rapidly and it was with a feeling of regret that he heard the brakeman +announce his destination and rose to take leave of his pleasant +companion. The children insisted on bidding their late chum a cuddling, +osculatory farewell--Alice tearfully holding up the snuffling Porkey for +his share. The train drew up at the Davidsburg platform, there came a +chorus of "Good-byes" and a few minutes later George was left alone with +his kit-bags on the deserted platform. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + _St. Agnes' Eve. Ah! bitter chill it was. + The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; + The hare limped, trembling, through the frozen grass; + And drowsy was the flock in woolly fold_. + ST. AGNES' EVE + + +Edmond did not have to wait long. Sounding faint and far off came the +silvery ring of sleigh-bells, gradually swelling in volume until, with a +measured crunch! crunch! of hoofs on packed snow, a smart Police cutter, +drawn by a splendid bay team, swung around a bend of the trail and pulled +up at the platform. Redmond regarded with a little awe the huge, +bear-like, uniformed figure of the teamster, whom he identified at once +from barrack gossip. + +"Sergeant Slavin?" he enquired respectfully, eyeing the bronzed, +clean-shaven face, half hidden by fur cap and turned-up collar. + +"Meself, lad!" came a rich soft brogue, "I was afther gettin' a wire from +th' O.C., tellin' me he was thransfering me another man. Yer name's +Ridmond, ain't it?---Whoa, now! T an' B!--lively wid thim kit-bags, +son!--team's pretty fresh an' will not shtand." + +They swung off at a spanking trot. George surveyed the white-washed +cattle-corrals and few scattered shacks which seemed to comprise the +hamlet of Davidsburg. + +"Not a very big place, Sergeant?" he remarked, "how far's the detachment +from here?" + +"On'y 'bout a mile" grunted the individual, squirting a stream of +tobacco-juice to leeward, "up on the high ground beyant. Nay! 'tis just +a jumpin' off place an' shippin' point for th' ranches hereabouts. +Business is mostly done at Cow Run--East. Ye passed ut, comin'. Great +doin's there--whin th' cowpunchers blow in. Some burg!" + +"Sure looked it!" Redmond agreed absently, thinking of the casual glimpse +he had got of the dreary main street. + +They were climbing a slight grade. The sun-glare on the snow was +intense; the cutter's steel runners no longer screeched, and the team's +hoofs began to clog up with soft snow. + +"They're 'balling-up' pretty bad, Sergeant!" remarked Redmond. And, as +he spoke the "off" horse suddenly slipped and fell, and, plunging to its +feet again, a leg slid over the cutter's tongue. + +"Whoa, now! whoa!" barked Slavin, with an oath, as the mettled, +high-strung animal began to kick affrightedly. Slipping again it sank +down in the snow and remained still for some tense moments. + +Like a flash Redmond sprang from the cutter, and rapidly and warily he +unhooked the team's traces. This done he crept to their heads and +slipped the end of the tongue out of the neck-yoke ring. Slavin by this +time was also on his feet in the snow, with the situation well in hand. +He clucked softly to his team, the fallen horse plunged to its feet again +and the next moment all was clear. George, burrowing around in the snow +unearthed a big stone, with which he proceeded to tap the team's shoes +all round until the huge snow-clogs fell out. In silence the two men +hooked up again and were soon on their way. + +"H-mm!" grunted the big Irishman at last, eyeing his subordinate with a +sidelong glance of approval, "h-mm! teamster?" + +"Oh, I don't know, Sergeant" responded Redmond deprecatingly, "of course +I've been around teams some--down East, on the old man's farm. . . I +don't know that I can claim to be a real teamster--as you judge them in +the Force." + +"H-mm!" grunted Slavin again, "ye seem tu have th' makin's anyway." He +expectorated musingly. "Wan time--down at Coutts 'twas--a young feller +was sint tu me for tu dhrive. Mighty chipper gossoon, tu. 'Teamster?' +sez I--'Some!' sez he, as if he was a reg'lar gun at th' business--'but +I'm gen'rally reckoned handier wid a foursome 'n a single team.'" + +"'Oh!' sez I, 'fwhere?' An' he tould me--Regina. Sez I thin ''tis +Skinner Adams's undershtudy ye must have bin?--for he was Reg'mentil +Teamster Sarjint there, an' sure fwas a great man wid a four-in-hand +team.'" + +"'Fwat, ould Skinner Adams?' sez me bould lad, kind av contempshus-like, +'Humph! at shtringin' out four I have Skinner Adams thrimmed tu a peak.' +We was dhrivin' from th' station tu th' detachmint--same like tu we're +doin' now. Whin we gits in I unhitches an' puts up th' team. 'Give us a +hand tu shling th' harniss off!' sez I tu him--an' me shmart Aleck makes +a shtab at ut wid th' nigh horse. He was not quite so chipper--thin, an' +I noticed his hands thremblin', an' he was all th' time watchin' me close +how I did wid th' off harse. I dhraws off wid th' britchin' on me +arrum--'Come!' sez I--an' he shtarts in--unbucklin' th' top hame-shtrap. + +"'As ye were!' sez I 'that's enough! I'm thinkin' th' on'y 'four' you +iver shtrung out me young flapdhoodle was a gang av prisoners, an' +blarney me sowl! ye shall go back tu th' Post right now, an' du +prisoner's escort agin for awhile.'" + +They had now reached the top of the grade where the trail swung due east, +and faced a dazzling sun and cutting wind which whipped the blood to +their cheeks and made their eyes water. + +"Behould our counthry eshtate!" said Sergeant Slavin grandiloquently, +with an airy wave of his arm, "beyant that big pile av shtones on th' +road-allowance." + +He chirped to his team which broke into an even, fast trot, and presently +they drew up outside a building typical in its outside appearance of the +usual range Mounted Police detachment. It was a fairly large dwelling, +roughly but substantially-built of squared logs, painted in customary +fashion, with the walls--white, and the shingled roof--red. A +strongly-guyed flagstaff jutting out from one gable, and copies of the +"Game" and "Fire Acts" tacked on the door gave the abode an unmistakable +official aspect. Over the doorway was nailed a huge, prehistoric-looking +buffalo-skull, bleached white with the years--the time-honoured insignia +of the R.N.W.M.P. being a buffalo-head, which is also stamped on the +regimental badge and button. + +Dumping off the kit-bags, the two men drove round to the stable in the +rear of the main dwelling, where they unhitched and put up the team. The +sergeant led the way into the house. Passing through a small store-house +and kitchen they emerged into the living room. On a miniature scale it +was a replica of one of the Post barrack-rooms, except that the table +boasted a tartan-rugged covering, that two or three easy chairs were +scattered around, and some calfskin mats partially covered the painted +hardwood floor. The walls, for the most part were adorned with many +unframed copies of pictures from the brush of that great Western artist, +Charles Russell, and black and white sketches cut from various +illustrated papers. Three corners of the room contained cots, one of +which the sergeant assigned to Redmond. The room, with its big stove, in +a way looked comfortable enough, and was regimentally neat and clean and +homelike. + +George peered into the front room beyond which bore quite a judicial +aspect. At one end of it a small dais supported a severe-looking +arm-chair and a long flat desk, on which were piled foolscap, blank legal +forms, law-books, and the Bible. In front was a long, form-like bench, +with a back to it. At the rear of the room were two strongly-built +cells, with barred doors. Around the walls were scattered a double row +of small chairs and, on a big, green-baize-covered board next the cells +hung a brightly burnished assortment of handcuffs and leg-irons. + +"'Tis here we hould coort," Slavin informed him, "whin we have any +shtiffs tu be thried." + +Opening the front door George lugged in his bedding and kit-bags and, +depositing them on his cot, flung off his fur coat, cap, and serge. +Slavin divested himself likewise and, as the burly, bull-necked man stood +there, slowly filling his pipe, Redmond was able to scan the face and +massive proportions of his superior more closely. + +Standing well over six feet, for the presentment of vast, though +perchance clumsy, gorilla-like strength, George reflected with slight awe +that he had never seen the man's equal. His wide-spreading shoulders +were more rounded than square; his deep, arching chest, powerful, stocky +nether limbs and disproportionately long, huge-biceped arms seeming to +fit him as an exponent of the mat rather than the gloves. Truly a +daunting figure to meet in a close-quarter, rough-and-tumble encounter! +thought Redmond. The top of his head was completely bald; his thick, +straight black brows indicating that what little close-cropped iron-gray +hair remained must originally have been coal-black in colour. His +Irish-blue eyes, alternately dreamy and twinklingly alert, were deeply +set in a high-cheeked-boned, bronzed face, with a long upper-lipped, +grimly-humorous mouth. Its expression in repose gave subtle warning that +its owner possessed in a marked degree the strongly melancholic, +emotional, and choleric temperament of his race. There was no +moroseness--no hardness in it, but rather the taciturnity that invariably +settles upon the face of those dwellers of the range who, perforce, live +much alone with their thoughts. Sheathed in mail and armed, that face +and bulky figure to some imaginations might have found its prototype in +some huge, grim, war-worn "man-at-arms" of mediaeval times. Redmond +judged him to be somewhere in his forties; forty-two was his exact age as +he ascertained later. + +In curious contrast to his somewhat formidable exterior seemed his mild, +gentle, soft-brogued voice. And with speech, his taciturn face relaxed +insensibly into an almost genial expression, George noted. + +Attracted by a cluster of pictures and photographs above and around the +cot in the corner opposite his own, the young fellow crossed over and +scanned them attentively. Tacked up with a random, reckless hand, the +bizarre collection was typically significant of someone's whimsical, +freakish tastes and personality. From the sublime to the ridiculous--and +worse--subjects pious and impious, dreamily-beautiful and lewdly-vulgar, +comic and tragic, also many splendid photographs were all jumbled +together on the walls in a shockingly irresponsible fashion. Many of the +pictures were unframed copies cut apparently from art and other journals; +from theatrical and comic papers. + +George gazed on them awhile in utterly bewildered astonishment; then, +with a little hopeless ejaculation, swung around to the sergeant who met +his despairing grin with benign composure. + +"Whose cot's--" + +"'Tis Yorke's," said Slavin simply. It was the first time he had +mentioned that individual's name. He struck a match on the seat of his +pants and standing with his feet apart and hands clasped behind his back +smoked awhile contentedly. + +"Saw ye iver th' like av that for divarsiment?" he continued, with a wave +of his pipe at the heterogeneous array, "shtudy thim! an', by an' large +ye have th' man himsilf. He's away on pay-day duty at th' Coalmore mines +west av here--though by token, 'tis Billy Blythe at Banff shud be doin' +ut, 'stead av me havin' tu sind a man from here. He shud be back on +Number Four th' night." + +His twinkling orbs under their black smudge of eyebrow appraised the +junior constable with faint, musing interest. "A quare chap is Yorkey," +he continued gently--shielding a match-flame and puffing with noisy +respiration--"a good polisman--knows th' Criminal Code from A tu Z--eyah! +but mighty quare. I misdoubt how th' tu av yez will get along." He +sighed deeply, muttering half to himself, "I may have tu take +shteps--this time! . . ." + +A rather ominous beginning, thought George. But, curbing his natural +curiosity, he resolutely held his peace, awaiting more enlightenment. +This not being forthcoming--his superior having relapsed once more into +taciturn silence--he turned again to Yorke's exhibits with pondering +interest. Sounding far-off and indistinct in the frosty stillness of the +bleak foothills came the faint echoes of a coyote's shrill +"ki-yip-yapping"--again and again, as if endeavouring to convey some +insidious message. George continued to stare at the pictures. Gad! what +a strange fantastic mind the man must have! he mused--what rotten, +erratic desecration to shove pictures indiscriminately together like +that! . . . Lack of space was no excuse. Millet's "Angelus," "Ally +Sloper at the Derby," a splendid lithograph of "The Angel of Pity at the +Well of Cawnpore," Lottie Collins, scantily attired, in her song and +dance "Tara-ra-ra-boom-de-ay," Sir Frederick Leighton's "Wedded," a +gruesome depiction of a Chinese execution at Canton, an old-fashioned +engraving of that dashing, debonair cavalry officer, "Major Hodson," of +Indian Mutiny fame, George Robey, as a nurse-maid, wheeling Little Tich +in a perambulator, the grim, torture-lined face of Slatin Pasha, a +ridiculously obscene picture entitled "Two coons scoffing oysters for a +wager," that glorious edifice the "Taj Mahal" of India, and so on. +"Divarsiment" indeed! + +To this ill-assorted admixture three exceptions only were grouped with +any sense of reason. The central picture was a beautifully coloured +reproduction of Sir Hubert Herkomer's famous masterpiece "The Last +Muster." Lovers of art subjects are doubtless familiar with this +immortal painting. It depicts a pathetic congregation of old, +white-haired, war-worn pensioners attending divine service in the chapel +of Old Chelsea Hospital, with the variegated lights from the +stained-glass windows flooding them with soft gentle colours. Flanking +it on either side were portraits of the original founders of this +historical institution in 1692--Charles II (The Merry Monarch) and his +kindly-hearted "light o' love" Sweet Nell Gwynn of Old Drury. + +With curiously mixed feelings George finally tore himself away from +Yorke's pathetically grotesque attempt at wall-adornment. Strive as he +would within his soul to ridicule, the pictures seemed somehow almost to +shout at him with hidden meaning. As if a voice--a drunken voice, but +gentlemanly withall--was hiccuping in his ear: "Paradise Lost, old man! +(hic) Paradise Lost!" + +And, mixed with it, came again out of the silence of the foothills the +coyote's faintly persistent mocking wail--its "ki-yip-yap" sounding +almost like "Bah! Yah! Baa!" . . . Some lines of an old quotation, +picked up he knew not where, wandered into his mind-- + + _Comedy, Tragedy, Laughter and Tears! + Thou'rt rolled as one in the Dust of Years_! + +With a sigh he turned to his own cot and began to unpack and arrange his +kit; in regulation fashion, and with such small faddy fixings customary +to men inured to barrack life. Thus engaged the time passed rapidly. +Later in the day he assisted the sergeant in making out the detachment's +"monthly returns" and diary. This task accomplished, in the gathering +dusk he attended "Evening Stables." There were two saddle-horses beside +the previously-mentioned team. A splendid upstanding pair, George +thought them. He was good with horses; possessing the faculty of +handling them that springs only from a patient, kindly, instinctive love +of animals. + +"Nay! I dhrive mostly," Slavin was telling him, "buckboard an' team's +away handier for a man av weight like meself. Eyah!" he sighed, "tho' +time was whin I cud throw a leg over wid th' best av thim. Yorke--he +gen'rally rides th' black, Parson, so ye'll take th' sorrel, Fox, for yeh +pathrols. He's a good stayer, an' fast. Ye'll want tu watch him at +mounthin' tho'--he's not a mane harse, but he has a quare thrick av +turnin' sharp tu th' 'off'--just as ye go tu shwing up into th' saddle. +Many's th' man he's whiraroo'd round wid wan fut in th' stirrup an' left +pickin' up dollars off th' bald-headed.' Well! let's tu supper." + +With the practised hand of an old cook he prepared a simple but hearty +repast, upon which they fell with appetites keenly edged with the cold +air. + +"Are ye anythin' av a cuk?" + +Redmond grinned deprecatingly and then shook his head. + +"Eyah!" grumbled Slavin, "seems I cannot hilp bein' cuk an' shtandin' +orderly-man around here. I thried out Yorkey. . . . Wan day on'y +tho'--'tis th' divil's own cuk he is. 'Sarjint!' sez he, 'I'm no +bowatchee'--which in Injia he tells me means same as cuk. An' he tould +th' trute at that." + +Some three hours later, as they lay on their cots, came to them the +faint, far-off _toot_! _toot_! of an engine, through the keen atmosphere. + +"That's Number Four from th' West," remarked Slavin drowsily, "Yorkey +shud be along on ut. Well! a walk will not hurt th' man if--" + +He chuntered something to himself. + +Half an hour elapsed slowly--three quarters. Slavin rolled off his cot +with a grunt and strode heavily to the front door, which he opened. +Redmond silently followed him and together the two men stepped out into +the crisply-crunching hard-packed snow. It was a magnificent night. +High overhead in the star-studded sky shone a splendid full moon, its +clear cold rays lighting up the white world around them with a sort of +phosphorescent, scintillating brilliance. + +Though not of a particularly sentimental temperament, the calm, peaceful, +unearthly beauty of the scene moved George to murmur--half to himself: + + "_Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, + That dost not bite so nigh + As benefits forgot, alas! + As benefits forgot_." + +To his surprise came Slavin's soft brogue echoing the last lines of the +old Shakespearian sonnet, with a sort of dreamy, gentle bitterness: "As +binifits forghot--forghot!--as binifits forghot! . . . . Luk tu that +now! eyah! 'tis th' trute, lad! . . . . for here--unless I am mistuk, +comes me bould Yorkey--an' dhrunk as 'a fiddler's ---- again. Tchkk! an' +me on'y just afther warnin' um. . . ." + +And, a far-away black spot as yet, down the moonlit, snow-banked trail, +indistinctly they beheld an unsteady figure slowly weaving its way +towards the detachment. At intervals the night-wind wafted to them +snatches of song. + +"Singin', singin'," muttered Slavin, "from break av morrn 'till jewy +eve! . . . Misther B---- Yorke! luks 'tis goin' large y'are th' night." + +Nearer and nearer approached the stumbling black figure, weaving an +eccentric course in and out along the line of telephone poles; and, to +their ears came the voice of one crying in the wilderness:-- + + "_O, the Midnight Son! the Midnight Son! (hic) + You needn't go trottin' to Norway-- + You'll find him in ev'ry doorway--_" + +A sudden cessation of the music, coupled with certain slightly +indistinct, weird contortions of the vocalist's figure, apprised the +watchers that a snow-bank had momentarily claimed him. Then, suddenly +and saucily, as if without a break, the throbbing, high-pitched tenor +piped up again-- + + "_You'll behold him in his glory + If you on'y take a run (hic) + Down the Strand--that's the Land + Of the Midnight Son_." + +Dewy eve indeed!--a far cry to the Strand! . . . How freakish sounded +that old London variety stage ditty ridiculing the nightly silence of the +great snow-bound Nor' West. Redmond could not refrain an explosive, +snorting chuckle as he remarked the erratic gait of the slowly +approaching pedestrian. As Slavin had opined, he was "going large." His +vocal efforts had ceased temporarily, and now it was the junior +constable's merriment that broke the frosty stillness of the night. + +But Slavin did not laugh. Watchfully he waited there--curiously still, +his head jutting forward loweringly from between his huge shoulders. + +"Tchkk!" he clucked in gentle distaste--"In uniform . . . an' just afther +comin' off the thrain! . . . th' like av that now 'tis--'tis +scandh'lus! . . ." + +Suddenly Redmond shivered, and his mirth died within him. The air seemed +to have become charged with a tense, ominous something that filled him +with a great dread--of what? he knew not. He felt an inexplicable +impulse to cry out a warning to that ludicrous figure, whose crunching +moccasins were now the only sounds that broke the uncanny stillness of +the night. To him, the whole scene, bathed in the cold brilliance of its +moonlit setting, seemed ghostly and unreal--a disturbing dream of comedy +and tragedy, intermingled. + +Inwards, between the telephone poles, the man came stumbling along, +gradually drawing nigh to the motionless watchers. Halting momentarily, +during his progress he made a quick stooping action at the base of one of +the poles, as if with vague purpose, which action was remarked at least +by Redmond. + +Then, for the first time, he seemed to become aware of their presence, +and making a pitiful attempt to dissemble his condition and assume a +smart, erect military carriage he waved his riding-crop at them by way of +salutation. Something in his action, its graceful, airy mockery, trivial +though it was, impressed the gestures firmly in Redmond's mind. He +became cognizant of a flushed, undeniably handsome face with reckless +eyes and mocking lips; a slimly-built figure of a man of medium height, +whose natural grace was barely concealed by the short regimental fur coat. + +Halting unsteadily within the regulation three paces pending salute, he +struck an attitude commonly affected by Mr. Sothern, in "Lord Dundreary," +and jauntily twirled his crop, the while he declaimed:-- + + "_Waltz me round again, Willie, Willie, + Round and round and--_" + +"_Round_!" finished Slavin, with a horrible oath. There seemed something +shockingly aboriginal--simian--in the swift, gorilla-like clutch of his +huge dangling hands, as they fastened on the throat and shoulder of the +drunken man and whirled him on his back in the snow--something deadly and +menacing in his hard-breathing, soft-brogued invective: + +"Yeh bloody nightingale! come off th' perch! . . . I'm fed up wid +yeh!--I'll waltz yeh!--I'll tache yeh tu make a mock av Burke Slavin, +time an' again! I'll--" + +Redmond interposed, "Steady, Sergeant!" he implored shakily, his hand on +his superior's shoulder, "For God's sake--" + +But Slavin, in absent fashion, shoved him off. He seemed to put no +effort in the movement, but the tense muscular impact of it sent Redmond +reeling yards away. + +"Giddap, Yorkey! God d----n ye for a dhrunken waster!--giddap! or I'll +put th' boots tu yeh!" Terrible was the menace of the giant Irishman's +face, his back-flung boot and his snarling, curiously low-pitched voice. + +"No! not Burke, old man! . . . ah, don't!" gasped the rich tenor voice +pleadingly from the snow--"ah, don't, Burke! . . . remember, +remember . . . St. Agnes' Eve-- + + "St. Agnes' Eve. Ah! bitter chill it was, + The--" + +It broke--that throbbing voice with its strange, impassioned appeal. Far +away over the snow the faint, silvery ring of a locomotive gong fell upon +the ears of the trio almost like the deep, solemn tolling of bells. + +Then slowly, and seemingly in pain, the prostrate man arose. + +And yet! Redmond mused, sorry a figure as he cut just then, minus +fur-cap and plastered with snow, alone with the shame which was his, he +had an air, a certain dignity of mien, this man, Yorke, which stamped him +far above the common run of men. + +The junior constable, as he noted the dark hair, silvering and worn away +at the temples, adjudged him to be somewhere between thirty and +forty--thirty-five was his exact age as he ascertained later. + +Now, with the air of a fallen angel, he stood there in the cold, +snow-dazzling moonlight; his face registering silent resignation as to +whatever else might befall him. The sergeant had stepped forward. +Redmond looked on, in dazed apprehension. A solemn hush had fallen upon +the strange scene, and stranger trio. Their figures flung weird, +fantastic shadows across the diamond-sparkling snow-crust. George +glanced at Slavin, and that individual's demeanor amazed him still +further. The big man's face was transformed. There seemed something +very terrible just then in the pathetic working of his rugged features, +as if he were striving to allay some powerful inward emotion. Then +huskily, but not unkindly--as perchance the father may have spoken to the +prodigal son--came his soft brogue: + +"Get yu tu bed, Yorkey! get yu tu bed, man! . . . an' thry me no +more! . . . ." + +Mutely, like a child, Yorke obeyed the order. Glancing at Redmond he +turned and walked unsteadily into the detachment. + +Perturbed and utterly mystified at the sordid drama he had witnessed, its +amazing combination of brutality and pathos, George remained rooted to +the spot as one in a dream. Instinctively though, he felt that this was +not the first time of its enactment. Mechanically he watched the door +close; then sounding far off and indistinct, Slavin's hoarse whisper in +his ear brought him down to Mother Earth again with a vengeance: + +"Did ye mark him stoop an' 'plant' th' 'hootch?'" + +George nodded. "I wasn't quite wise to what he was at," he answered. + +"Let us go get ut!" said Sergeant Slavin grimly, marching to the spot, "I +will not have dhrink brought into th' detachment! . . . 'tis against +ordhers." + +He bent down, straightened up, and turning to Redmond who had joined him +exhibited a bottle. He held it up to the light of the moon. It appeared +to be about half empty. Extracting the cork, he smelt. + +"'Tis whiskey," he murmured simply--much as Mr. Pickwick said: "It is +punch." He made casual examination of the green and gold label. +"'Burke's Oirish,' begob! . . . eyah! a brave ould uniform but"--he +turned a moist eye on his subordinate--"a desp'ritly wounded souldier +that wears ut--betther out av pain. 'Tis an' ould sayin': 'Whin ye meet +th' divil du not turn tail but take um by th' harns.' . . . Bhoy! I +thrust the honest face av yeh--I have tuk tu ye since th' handy lad ye +showt yersilf with that team mix-up th' morn." + +Redmond, mollified, grinned shiveringly. "I don't mind a snort, +Sergeant," he said, "it's d----d cold out here. Beer's more in my line +though. Salue!" + +He took a swallow or two; the bottle changed hands. + +"Eyah!" remarked Slavin sometime later--cuddling the bottle at the "port +arms." "'Tis put th' kibosh on many a good man in th' ould Force has +this same dhrink. Th' likes av Yorkey there"--he jerked his head at the +lighted window--"shud never touch ut--never touch ut! . . . Cannot +flirrt wid a bottle--'tis wedded they wud be tu ut. Now meself"--he +paused impressively--"I can take me dhrink like a ginthleman--can take +ut, or lave ut alone." + +Absorptive demonstration followed. Came a long-drawn, smacking "Ah-hh!" +"A sore thrial tu me is that same man," he resumed, "wan more break on +his part, as ye have seen this night . . . an' I musht--I will take +shteps wid um." + +"Why don't you transfer him back to the Post?" queried George, +wonderingly, mindful of how swiftly that disciplinary measure had +rewarded his own reckless conduct at the Gleichen detachment. "He's got +nothing on you, has he?" + +"_Fwhat_?" . . . Slavin, turning like a flash, glared sharply at him out +of deep-set scowling eyes, "Fwhat?" + +Tonelessly, George repeated his query, + +Slavin's glare gradually faded. "Eyah!" he affirmed presently, "he +has! . . ." came a long pause--"but not as yu mane ut . . . oh! begorrah, +no!" His eyes glittered dangerously and his wide mouth wreathed into an +unholy grin, "'Tis a shmart man that iver puts ut over on me at th' +Orderly-room. . . Fwhy du I not sind him into th' Post? . . . eyah! fwhy +du I not? . . ." + +Chin sunk on his huge chest, he mused awhile. + +George waited. + +"Listen, bhoy!" A terrible earnestness crept into the soft voice. "I'll +tell ye th' tale. . . . 'Twas up at th' Chilkoot Pass--in the gold rush +av '98. . . . Together we was--Yorkey an' meself--stationed there undher +ould Bobby Belcher. Wan night--Mother av God! will I iver forghet ut? +Bitther cowld is th' Yukon, lad; th' like av ut yu' here in Alberta du +not know. Afther tu crazy lost _cheechacos_ we had been that day. We +found thim--frozen. . . . A blizzard had shprung up, but we shtrapped +th' stiffs on th' sled an' mushed ut oursilves tu save th' dogs. + +"I am a big man, an' shtrong . . . . but Yorkey was th' betther man av us +tu that night--havin less weight tu pack. I was all in--dhrowsy, an' +wanted tu give up th' ghost an' shleep--an' shleep. . . . Nigh unto +death I was. . . ." + +The murmuring voice died away. A shudder ran through the great frame at +the remembrance, while the hand clutching the bottle trembled violently. +Unconsciously Redmond shook with him; for the horror Slavin was living +over again just then enveloped his listener also. + +"But Yorkey," he continued "wud not let me lie down. . . . God! how that +man did put his fishts an' mucklucks tu me an' pushed an' shtaggered wid +me' afther th' dogs, beggin' an' cursin' an' prayin' an' callin' me names +that ud fairly make th' dead relations av a man rise up out av their +graves. . . . Light-headed he got towards th' ind av th' thrail, poor +chap! shoutin' dhrill-ordhers an' Injia naygur talk, an' singin' great +songs an' chips av poethry--th' half av which I misremimber--excipt +thim--thim wurrds he said this night. 'Shaint Agnus Eve,' he calls ut. +Over an' over he kept repeathin' thim as he helped me shtaggerin' +along. . . 'God!' cries he, betune cursin' me an' th' dogs an' singin' +'Shaint Agnus Eve'--'Oh, help us this night! let us live, God! . . . oh, +let us live!--this poor bloody Oirishman an' me! . . .'" + +The sergeant's head was thrown back now, gazing full at the evening star +the moonbeams shining upon his upturned, powerful face. Cold as was the +night Redmond could see glistening beads of sweat on his forehead. As +one himself under the spell of the fear of death, the younger man +silently watched that face--fascinated. It was calm now, with a great +and kindly peace. Slowly the gentle voice took up the tale anew: + +"We made ut, bhoy--th' Post--or nigh tu ut . . . in th' break av th' +dawn. . . . For wan av th' dogs yapped an' they come out an' found us in +th' snow. . . . Yorkey, wid his arrums round th' neck av me--as if he +wud shtill dhrag me on . . . . an' cryin' upon th' mother that bore +um. . . . Tu men--in damned bad shape--tu shtiffs . . . . an' but three +dogs lift out av th' six-team we'd shtarted wid. . . . So--now ye know; +lad! . . . Fwhat think ye? . . ." + +What George thought was: "Greater love hath no man than this." What he +said was: "He's an Englishman, isn't he?" + +Slavin nodded. "Comes of a mighty good family tu, they say, but 'tis +little he iwer cracks on himself 'bout thim. Years back he hild a +commission in some cavalry reg'mint in Injia, but he got broke--over a +woman, I fancy. He's knocked about th' wurrld quite a piece since thin. +Eyah! he talks av some quare parts he's been in. Fwhat doin'? Lord +knows. Been up an' down the ladder some in _this_ outfit--sarjint one +week--full buck private next. Yen know th' way these ginthlemin-rankers +run amuck?" + +"How does he get away with it every time?" queried Redmond. "Hasn't any +civilian ever reported him to the old man?" + +"Yes! wance--an' 'Father,' th' ould rapparee! he went for me baldheaded +for not reporthin' ut tu." + +With a sort of miserable heartiness Slavin cursed awhile at the +recollection. "Toime an' again," he resumed, "have I taken my hands tu +um--pleaded wid um, an' shielded um in many a dhirty scrape, an' ivry +toime sez he, wid his ginthlemin's shmile: 'Burke! will ye thry an' +overlook it, ould man?' . . . Eyah! he's mighty quare. For some rayson +he seems tu hate th' idea av a third man bein' here, tho' th' man' wud +die for me. Divil a man can I kape here, anyway. In fwhat fashion he +puts th' wind up 'him, I do not know; they will not talk, out av pure +kindness av heart an' rispict for meself, I guess. But--a few days here, +an' bingo!--they apply for thransfer. Now ye know ivrythin', bhoy--fwhat +I am up against, an' fwhy I will not 'can' Yorkey. Ye've a face that +begets thrust--do not bethray ut, but thry an' hilp me. Bear wid Yorke +as best ye can--divilmint an' all--for my sake, will yeh?" + +Not devoid of a certain simple dignity was the grim, rugged face that +turned appealingly to the younger man's in the light of the moon. + +And Redmond, smiling inscrutably into the deep-set, glittering eyes, +answered as simply: "I will, Sergeant!" + +He declined an offer. "_Nemoyah_! (No) thanks, I've had enough." + +For some unaccountable reason, Slavin smiled also. His huge clamping +right hand crushed George's, while the left described an arc heavenwards. +Came a throaty gurgle, a careless swing of the arm, and-- + + "Be lay loike a warrior takin' his rist, + Wid his-- + +"I misrimimber th' tail-ind av ut," sighed Sergeant Slavin, "'Tis toime +we turned in." + + +In silence they re-entered the detachment. Yorke, minus his moccasins, +fur-coat and red-serge, lay stretched out upon his cot sleeping heavily, +his flushed, reckless, high-bred face pillowed on one outflung arm. +Above him, silent guardians of his rest, his grotesque mixture of prints +gleamed duskily in the lamp-light. + +Into Redmond's mind--sunk into a deep oblivion of dreamy, chaotic +thought--came again Slavin's words: + +"Shtudy thim picthures, bhoy! an', by an' large ye have th' man himsilf" + +Soon, too, he slept; and into his fitful slumbers drifted a ridiculously +disturbing dream. That of actually witnessing the terrible scene of the +long-dead Indian Mutiny hero, Major Hodson, executing with his own hand +the three princes of Oude. + +_Inshalla_! it was done--there! there! against the cart, amidst the +gorgeous setting of Indian sunset and gleaming minaret. "Deen! Deen! +Futteh _Mohammed_!" came a dying scream upon the last shot--the smoking +carbine was jerked back to the "recover"--a moment the scarlet-turbaned, +scarlet-sashed English officer gazed with ruthless satisfaction at his +treacherous victims then, turning sharply, faced him. + +And lo! to Redmond it seemed that the stern, intolerant, +recklessly-handsome countenance he looked upon bore a striking +resemblance to the face of Yorke. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + _Burn'd Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, + And shook his very frame for ire, + And--"This to me!" he said,--_ + MARMION + + +Early on the morrow it came to pass that Sergeant Slavin, cooking +breakfast for all hands, heard Yorke's voice uplifted in song, as that +worthy made his leisurely toilet. He shot a slightly bilious glance at +Redmond, who, "Morning Stables" finished, lounged nearby. + +"Hear um?" he snorted enviously. "Singin'! singin'!--forever +singin'!--eyah! sich nonsince, tu." + +But, to George, who possessed a musical ear, the ringing tenor sounded +rather airily and sweetly-- + + "_Hark! hark! the lark at Heaven's Gate sings, + And Phoebus 'gins arise, + His steeds to water at those springs--_" + +"Fwhat yez know 'bout that?" Slavin forked viciously at the bacon he was +frying. "Blarney my sowl! an' him not up for 'Shtables' at all! . . ." + + "_With ev'rything that pretty is:-- + My lady sweet, arise! arise! + My lady sweet, arise!_" + +"My lady shweet!"--Slavin snorted unutterable things. + +Yawning, the object of his remarks sauntered into the kitchen just then, +and, deeming the occasion now to be a fitting one, the sergeant +introduced his two subordinates to each other. + +Yorke, with a bleak nod and handshake, swept the junior constable with a +swiftly appraising glance. As frigidly was his salutation returned. +Redmond remarked the regular features, suggestive rather of the ancient +Norman type, the thin, curved, defiant nostrils and dark, arching +eyebrows. The face, with its indefinable stamp of birth and breeding was +handsome enough in its patrician mould, but marred somewhat by the lines +of cynicism, or dissipation, round the sombre, reckless eyes and +intolerant mouth. He had a cool, clear voice and a whimsical, +devil-may-care sort of manner that was apparently natural to him, as was +also a certain languid grace of movement. He possessed an irritating +mannerism of continually elevating his chin and dilating his curved +nostrils disdainfully in a sort of soundless sniff. Beyond a slight +flush he showed little trace of his previous night's dissipation. + +"Where do you hail from?" he enquired of George with casual interest over +the mess-table later. + +"Ontario," replied George laconically, "my people are farmers down there." + +For a moment Yorke's arched brows lifted in puzzled surprise--came a +repetition of his offensive sniffing mannerism; and he stared pointedly +away again. It was difficult to be more insulting in dumb show. + +George, mindful of his promise to Slavin, groaned inwardly. "I am going +to hate this fellow" he thought. + +The sergeant, from the head of the table, kept a keen watch upon the pair. + +"An' fwhat?" came his soft brogue, by way of diversion, "an' fwhat made +yu' take on th' Force?" + +"Oh, I don't know!" Wearily, George shoved his hands deep into his +pockets and leant back in his chair. "Old man's pretty well fixed--now. +He's a member of the legislature for ---- County. I was at McGill for +some terms--medicine." A hopeless note crept into his tones. "I fell +down on my exams . . . ran amuck with the wrong bunch an' all +that--an'--an' . . . kind of made a mess of things I guess. . . . Went +broke--came West. . . . That's why. . . ." + +With a forlorn sort of forced grin he gazed back at his interlocutor. +Yorke, unheeding the conversation, continued his breakfast as if he were +alone. + +"H-mm!" grunted Slavin, summing up the situation with native simplicity, +"That's ut, eh?--but, for all ye have th' spache an' manners av a +ginthleman--ranker somehow--somehow I misdoubt ye're a way-back waster +like Misther Yorkey here!" + +That hardened "ginthleman," absently sipping his coffee, flung a +faintly-derisive, patient smile at his accuser. A perfect understanding +seemed to exist between the two men. Redmond, musing upon the +pathetically-sordid drama he had witnessed not so many hours since, +relapsed into a reverie of speculation. + +The silence was suddenly broken by the sharp trill of the telephone. +Slavin arose lethargically from the mess-table and answered it. + +"Hullo! yis! Slavin shpeakin'! Fwat?--all right Nick! I'll sind a man +shortly an' vag um! So long! Oh, hold on, Nick! . . . May th' divil +niver know ye're dead till ye're tu hours in Hivin! Fwhat?--Oh, thank +yez! Same tu yez! Well! . . . so long!" + +"Hobo worryin' Nick Lee at Cow Run. Scared av fire in th' +livery-shtable. Go yu', Yorkey!" He eyed George a moment in curious +speculation. "Yu' had betther go along tu, Ridmond! Exercise yez harse +an'"--he lit his pipe noisily--"learn th' lay av th' thrails." He turned +to the senior constable. "If ye can lay hould av th' J.P. there, get +this shtiff committed an' let Ridmond take thrain wid um tu th' Post. +Yu' return wid th' harses!" + +"Why can't Redmond nip down there on a way-freight and do the whole +thing?" said Yorke, a trifle sulkily. "It seems rot sending two men +mounted for one blooming hobo." + +"Eyah!" murmured Slavin with suspicious mildness, "'tis th' long toime +since I have used me shtripes tu give men undher me wan ordher twice." + +Yorke flashed a slightly apprehensive glance at his superior's face. +Then, without another word, he reached for his side-arms, bridle, and +fur-coat. He knew his man. + +Redmond followed suit and they adjourned to the stable. + +"I saw that beggar yesterday--on my way up," remarked George, +ill-advisedly. + +Yorke stared. "The hell you did! . . . why didn't you vag him then?" he +retorted irritably. + +Bursting with silent wrath at the "choke-off," with difficulty Redmond +held his peace. In silence they saddled up and leading the horses out +prepared to mount. Yorke swung up on the splendid, mettled +black--"Parson." He had an ideal cavalry seat, and as with an easy grace +he gently controlled his impatient horse, with an inscrutable, mask-like +countenance he watched Redmond and the sorrel "Fox." + +With toe in the leather-covered stirrup the latter reached for the +saddle-horn. Poor George! fuming inwardly over one humiliation caused +him shortly to be the recipient of another. Too late to his preoccupied +mind came Slavin's warning of the day before. + +Like a flash the sorrel whirled to the "off-side" and Redmond, swung off +his balance, revolved into space and was pitched on his hands and knees +in the snow. Fortunately his foot had slipped clear of the stirrup. In +this somewhat ignominious position dizzily he heard Yorke's mocking tones: + +"What are the odds on Fox, bookie? . . . I'd like a few of those dollars +when you've quite finished picking them all up." + +With an almost superhuman effort the young fellow controlled himself once +more as he arose. Not lightly had he given a promise. Silently he +dusted the snow from his uniform and strode over to where the sorrel +awaited him. The horse had made no attempt to run away; apparently being +an old hand at the game. It now stood eying its dupe, with Lord knows +what mirth tickling its equine brain. + +Slipping the "nigh" rein through the saddle-fork, then back to the +cheek-strap again, George snubbed Fox's head towards him, making it +impossible for the horse to whirl to the "off" as before. Warily and +quietly he then swung into the saddle and the two men set off. + +A few yards from the front of the detachment Yorke suddenly pulled up +and, dismounting, felt around in the snow at the base of a +well-remembered telephone-pole. It was Redmond's hour to jeer now, if he +had been mindful to do so. But another usurped that privilege. + +A queer choking sound made them both turn round. Slavin, his grim face +registering unholy mirth, lounged in the doorway. + +"Fwhat ye lukkin for, Yorkey?" + +"Oh, nothing!" came that gentleman's answer. + +"Ye'll find ut in th' bottle thin." + +Insult was added to injury by the sergeant casually plucking that article +from it's "rist" and chucking it over. + +Yorke's face was a study. "Oh!" cried he dismally, "what wit! . . . give +three rousing cheers!" . . . He mounted once more. "Well! there's no +denying you are one hell of a sergeant!" + +That worthy one grinned at him tolerantly. "Get yez gone!" he spat back, +"an' du not linger tu play craps on th' thrail either--th' tu av yez!" + +Long and grimly, with his bald head sunk between his huge shoulders, he +gazed after the departing riders. "Eyah! 'tis best so!" he murmured +softly, "a showdown--wid no ould shtiff av a non-com like meself tu butt +in. . . . An', onless I am mistuk that same will come this very morn, +from th' luks av things. . . . Sind th' young wan is as handy wid his +dhooks as Brankley sez he is! . . . Thin--an' on'y thin will there be +peace in th' fam'ly." + +He re-lit his pipe and, shading his eyes from the snow-glare focussed +them on two rapidly vanishing black specks. "I wud that I cud see ut!" +he sighed, plaintively, "I wud that I cud see ut!" + +It was a glorious day, sunny and clear, with the temperature sufficiently +low to prevent the hard-packed snow from balling up the horses' feet. +The trail ran fairly level along a lower shelf of the timber-lined +foothills, which on their right hand sloped gradually to the banks of the +Bow River in a series of rolling "downs." Sharply outlined against the +blue ether the Sou' Western chain of the mighty "Rockies" reared their +rosily-white peaks in all their morning glory--silent guardians of the +winter landscape. + +Deep down in his soul young Redmond harboured a silent, dreamy adoration +for the beauty of such scenes as this. Under different conditions he +would have enjoyed this ride immensely. But now--with his mind a +seething bitter chaos consequent upon his companion's incomprehensible +behavior towards him, he rode in a sort of brooding reverie. Yorke was +equally morose. Not a word had fallen from their lips since they left +the detachment. + +Right under the horses' noses a big white jack-rabbit suddenly darted +across the snow-banked ruts of the well-worn trail, pursuing its leaping +erratic course towards a patch of brush on the river side. +Simultaneously the animals shied, with an inward trend, cannoning their +respective riders together. Yorke reined away sharply and glared. + +"Get over'" he said curtly, "don't crowd me!" + +He spoke as a Cossack hetman might to his sotnia, and, at his tone and +attitude, something snapped within Redmond. To his already overflowing +cup of resentment it was the last straw. His promise to Slavin he flung +to the winds, and it was replaced with vindictive but cool purpose. + +"Showdown!" he muttered under his breath, "I knew it had to come!" He +was conscious of a feeling of vast relief. Aloud he responded, blithely +and rudely, "Oh! to hell with _you_!" + +Yorke checked his horse with a suddenness that brought the animal back +onto its haunches. Sitting square and motionless in the saddle for a +moment he stared at George with an expression almost of shocked +amazement; then his face became convulsed with ruthless passion. + +The junior constable had pulled up also, and now wheeling "half-left" and +lolling lazily in his saddle with shortened leg stared back at his enemy +with an expression there was no mistaking. His debonair young face had +altered in an incredible fashion. Although his lips were pursed up with +their whistling nonchalance his eyes had contracted beneath scowling +brows into mere pin-points of steel and ice. He looked about as docile +as a young lobo wolf--cornered. + +"Ah!" murmured Yorke, noting the transformation; and he seemed to +consider. He had seen that look on men's faces before. Insensibly, +passion had vanished from his face; the bully had disappeared; and in his +place there sat in saddle a cool, contemptuous gentleman. + +"Are you talking back to me?" he said. He did not look astounded +now--seemed rather to assume it. + +Redmond's scowling brows lifted a fraction. "Talking back?" he echoed, +"sure! Who the devil do you think you're trying to come 'the Tin Man' +over?" + +Reluctantly Yorke discounted his first impressions. Here was no +self-conscious bravado. Warily he surveyed George for a moment--the cool +appraising glance of the ring champion in his corner scanning his +challenger--then, swinging out of the saddle, he dropped his lines and +began to unbuckle his spurs. + +There was no mistaking his actions. Redmond followed suit. A few +seconds he looked dubiously at his horse, then back at Yorke. + +"Oh, you needn't be scared of Fox beating it," remarked that gentleman a +trifle wearily, "he'll stand as good as old Parson if you chuck his lines +down." + +Shading his eyes from the sun-glare he took a rapid survey of their +surroundings, then led the way to a wind-swept patch of ground, more or +less bare of snow. Arriving thither, as if by mutual consent they flung +off caps, side-arms, fur-coats and stable-jackets. Yorke, a graceful, +compactly-built figure of a man, sized up his slightly heavier opponent +with an approving eye. + +"You strip good" he said carelessly. "Well! what's it to be? . . . +'muck' or 'muffin'?" + +"'Muffin' of course!" snapped Redmond angrily, "what d'ye take me for?--a +'rough-house meal ticket'?" + +"All right!" said Yorke soothingly, "don't lose your temper!" + +It may have been a shrewdly-calculated attempt to attain that end; and +yet again it may have been only sheer mechanical habit that prompted him +to stretch forth his hands in the customary salute of the ring. + +With an inarticulate exclamation of rage the younger man struck the +proffered hands aside and led with a straight left for the other's head. +Yorke blocked it cleverly and fell into a clinch. + +"Ah!" murmured Yorke in his antagonist's ear with a sinister smile, +"rotten manners! for just that, my buck, I'll make you scoff 'muffin' +'till you're quite poorly!" + +Working his arms cautiously, he sprang clear of the clinch, then, rushing +his man and feinting for the ribs, he rocked Redmond's head back with two +terrific left and right hooks to the jaw. + +The jarring sting of the punches, although dazing him slightly, brought +Redmond to his senses, as he realized how vulnerable his momentary loss +of temper had rendered him. He now braced himself with dogged +determination and, covering up warily, circled his adversary with clever +foot-work. Yorke, tearing in again was met with one of the crudest jabs +he had ever known--flush in the mouth. Gamely he retaliated with a +stinging uppercut and a right swing which, coming home on Redmond's +cheek-bone, whirled him off his balance and sent him sprawling. + +Dazed, but not daunted, he scrambled to his feet. Yorke, blowing upon +his knuckles with all the air of an old-time "Regency blood," waited with +heaving chest and scornful, narrowed eyes. + +"Want to elevate the sponge?" he queried sneeringly. + +"No!" panted George grimly, "it was you started the whole rotten dirty +business, and, by gum! I'll finish it!" + +Dancing in and out he drew an ineffective left from his opponent and +countered with a pile-driving right to the heart. Yorke gave vent to a +groaning exclamation and turned pale. He spat gaspingly out of his +mashed lips and propped Redmond off awhile; then, suddenly springing in +again he attempted to mix it. George was nothing loath, and the two men, +standing toe-to-toe, slugged each other with a perfect whirlwind of +damaging punches to face and body. + +Even in the giddy whirl of combat, in either man's heart now was a wonder +almost akin to respect for each other's ring knowledge and gameness. It +was not George's first bout by many, but the physical endurance of this +hard, clean-hitting Corinthian of a man was an astounding revelation to +him; the science of the graceful, narrow-waisted figure was still as +quick and as punishing as a steel trap. + +Yorke, for his part, reflected with bitter irony how utterly erroneous +had been his primary calculations--how Nemesis was hard upon his heels at +last in the guise of this relentless youngster, who fought like a +college-bred "Charley Mitchell." + +Ding! dong!--hook, jab, uppercut, block, and swing; in and out, back and +forth, side-stepping and head-work--one long exhausting round. Flesh and +blood could not stand the pace--though it was Redmond now who forced it. +Neither of the men was in training and the long strain began to tell upon +them both cruelly--especially upon the veteran Yorke. Still, with +frosted hair and streaming faces, the sweat-soaked, bruised and bleeding +combatants staggered against each other and strove to make play with +their weary arms, until utter exhaustion rang the time gong. + +Gasping and swaying to and fro, his puffed lips wreathed into a ghastly +semblance of his old scornful smile, Yorke dropped his guard and stuck +out his chin. He mouthed and pointed to it tauntingly. In spite of +himself, a sorry grin flickered over George's battered, weary young face. +He mouthed back--speech was beyond either; sagging at the knees he reeled +forward and his right arm went poking out in a wobbling, uncertain punch. + +It glanced harmlessly over Yorke's shoulder, but the violent impact of +his body sent the other heavily to the ground. An ineffectual struggle +to maintain his equilibrium and he, too, fell--face downwards, with his +head pillowed on Yorke's heaving chest. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa--aa--aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! + KIPLING + + +A great peace lay upon the frozen landscape--the deep, wintry peace of +the vast, snow-bound Nor'West. A light breeze murmured over the crisping +snow, and moaned amongst the pines in the timber-lined spurs of the +foothills. High overhead in the sunny, dazzling blue vault of heaven a +huge solitary hawk slowly circled with wide-spread, motionless wings, +uttering intermittently its querulous, eerie whistle. + +Awhile the two exhausted men lay gasping for breath--absolutely and +utterly spent. Suddenly Yorke shivered violently and sighed. Redmond +raised himself off the prostrate form of his late opponent and, +staggering over to the pile of their discarded habiliments, slowly and +painfully he donned his fur coat and cap; then, picking up Yorke's, he +stumbled over to the latter. The senior constable was now sitting up, +with arms drooping loosely over his knees. George wrapped the coat +around the bowed shoulders and put on the cap. + +"You're cold, old man!" he said simply. "We'd best get our things on +now, and beat it." + +Wearily Yorke raised his head, and, at something he beheld in that +disfigured, but unalterably-handsome face, Redmond's heart smote him. + +Often in the past he had fondly imagined himself nursing implacable, +absolutely undying hatreds; brooding darkly over injuries received in +fancy or reality, planning dire and utterly ruthless revenge, etc. But, +deep, deep down in his boyish soul he knew it to be only a dismal +failure--that he could not keep it up. His was an impulsive, generous +young heart--equally quick to forgive an injury as to resent one. Now in +his pity and misery he could have cried--to see his erstwhile enemy so +hopelessly broken in body and spirit. + +Therefore it did not occur to him that it was sheer sentimental absurdity +on his part now to drop on one knee and put his arms around that +shivering, pride-broken form. + +"Yorkey!" he mumbled huskily, "old man! . . . Yor--" + +He choked a bit, and was silent. + +Waveringly, a skinned-knuckled, but sinewy, shapely hand crept out and +gently ruffled Redmond's curly auburn hair. Vaguely he heard a voice +speaking to him. Could that tired, kind, whimsical voice belong to +Yorke? It said: "Reddy, my old son! . . . we're still in the ring, +anyway. . . . Seems--do what we would or could--we couldn't poke each +other out. . . ." + +Came a long silence; then: "If ever a man was sorry for the rotten way +he's acted, it's surely me right now. . . . Got d----d good cause to be +p'raps. . . . I handed it to you about the sponge . . . egad! I +well-nigh came chucking it up myself--later. My colonial oath! but +you're the cleverest, gamest, hardest-hitting young proposition I've ever +ruffled it out with! . . . Where'd you pick it up? Who's handled you?" + +George slowly rose to his feet. "Man named Scholes--down East" he +answered. He eyed Yorke's face ruefully and, incidentally felt his own, +"I used to do a bit with the gloves when I was at McGill. Talking about +sponges!--I only wish we had one now to chuck up--in tangible form." + +He abstracted the other's handkerchief and, rolling it with his own into +a pad dabbed it in the snow. Yorke winced. "Hold still, old thing!" +said Redmond, "we'll have to clean off a bit ere we hit the giddy trail +again." + +For some minutes he gently manipulated the pad. "There! you don't look +too bad now. Have a go at me!" + +Figuratively, they licked each other's wounds awhile. Yorke had grown +very silent. Chin in hands and rocking very slightly to and fro, all +huddled up in his fur coat, he gazed unseeingly into the beyond. His +face was clouded with such hopeless, bitter, brooding misery that it +worried Redmond. He guessed it to be something far deeper than the +memory of their recent conflict. He strove to arouse the other. + +"Talk about game cocks!" he began lightly. "Ten years ago, say! you must +have been a corker--regular 'Terry McGovern'." + +"Eh?" Yorke's far-away eyes stared at him vaguely. "I was in India +then. Army light-weight champion in my day. Slavin wasn't joshing much +at breakfast, by gum! . . . Now we're here! . . . We're a bright pair!" +He made as though to cast snow upon his head, "Ichabod! Ichabod! our +glory has departed!" + +He lifted up his tenor voice, chanting the while he rocked-- + + "_Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah!_" + +Redmond flinched and raised a weakly protesting hand. "Don't, old man!" +he implored miserably, "don't! what's the--" + +"Eh!" queried Yorke brutally--rocking--"does hurt?" + + "_If the home we never write to, and the oaths we never keep, + And all we--_" + +"No! no! no! Yorkey!" George's voice rose to a cry, "not that! . . . +quit it, old man! . . . that's one of the most terrible things Kipling +ever wrote--terrible because it's so absolutely, utterly hopeless. . . ." + +"Well, then!" said Yorke slowly-- + + "_Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer?_" + +"It wasn't beer," muttered Redmond absently, "it was whiskey. Slavic and +I drank it." With an effort he strove to arouse himself out of the +despondency that he himself had fallen into. + +"Listen! . . . Oh! quit that d----d rocking, Yorkey! . . . Listen now! +we've put up a mighty good scrap against each other--we'll call that a +draw--let's put up another against our--well! we'll call it our rotten +luck . . . D----n it all, old man, we're not 'down an' outs' doing duty +in this outfit--the best military police corps in the world! . . . Let's +both of us quit squalling this eternal 'nobody loves me' stuff! This +isn't any slobbery brotherly love or New Jerusalem business, or anything +like that, either. I'm not a bloomin' missionary!" He qualified that +assertion unnecessarily to prove it. "But let's stick together and back +each other up--just us two and old man Slavin--make it a sort of 'rule of +three.' We can have a deuce of a good time on this detachment +then! . . ." + +He spoke hotly, eagerly, with boyish fervour, his soul in his eyes. + +Yorke remained silent, with averted eyes. That imploring, wistful, +bruised young countenance was almost more than he could stand. George, +dropping on one knee beside him put a tremulous hand on the senior +constable's shoulder. "What's wrong, Yorkey?" he queried. He shook the +bowed shoulder gently. "What's made you consistently knock every third +buck that's been sent here? 'till they got fed up, and transferred? . . . +They tried to put the wind up me about it at the Post. What's bitin' +you? I don't seem to get your angle at all!" + +"Oh, I don't know!" Yorke coughed and spat drearily. "Kind of rum +reason, you'll think. Long story--too long--dates back. Listen then! +Ten years back, in the pride of my giddy youth, I held a Junior Sub's +commission in the ---- Lancers--in India. This is just a synopsis of +my case, mind! . . . Well! the regiment was lying at Rawal Pindi, and--I +guess I kind of ran amuck there--got myself into a rotten +_esclandre_--entirely my own fault I'll admit: + + _Man is fire, and Woman is tow, + And the Devil, he comes and begins to blow--_ + +the same old miserable business the world's fed up with. Since then +seems I've kind of made a mess of things. Burke Slavin's about +right--his estimate of me." He sighed with bitter, gloomy retrospection. +"I've always had a queer, intolerant sort of temperament. If I'd lived +in the days of the Indian Mutiny I guess I'd have been in 'Hodson's +Horse'." (Redmond started, remembering his curious dream.) "He was a +man after my own heart," Yorke continued slowly, "resourceful, slashing +sort of beggar . . . he ruffled it with a high hand. Bold and game as +Sherman, or Paul Jones, but as ruthless as Graham of Claverhouse. He put +the ever-lasting fear into the rebels of Oude--something like Cromwell +did in Ireland. My old Governor served through the Mutiny--he's told me +stories of him. My God!" + +He drew his fur coat closer round him. "Well!"--Redmond watched the +sombre profile--"as I was saying . . . I 'muckered'. . . . Since then, +with the years, I guess I've been climbing down the ladder of illusions +till I'm right in the stoke-hole, and Old Nick seems to grin and whisper: +'As you were! my cashiered Sub.--As you were!' every time I chuck a brace +and try to climb up again. How's that for a bit of cheap cynicism?"--the +low, bitter laugh was not good to hear--"Man!"--the brooding eyes +narrowed--"I've sure plumbed the depths--knocking around, with the right +to live. Port Said, Buenos Aires, Shanghai. . . . I've certainly +travelled. Some day I'll throw the book at you. Now--substance and +ambition gone by the board long ago, and mighty little left of principle +I guess--I am--what I am--everything except a prodigal, or a +remittance-man--I never worried them at Home--that way. . . ." + +He spoke with a sort of reckless earnestness that moved his hearer more +than that individual cared to show. Redmond felt it was useless to offer +mere conventional sympathy in a case like this. He did the next best +thing possible--he remained silently attentive and let the other run on. + +"You take three men now--stationed in the same detachment," resumed Yorke +wearily, "by gum! they're thrown together mighty close when you come to +think of it. It's different to the Post, where there's a crowd. Life's +too short to start in explaining minutely just what that difference is. +Fact remains! . . . to get along and pull together they've got to like +each other--have something in common--give and take. Otherwise the +situation becomes d----d trying, and trouble soon starts in the family." + +"By what divine right I should consider myself qualified to--to--Oh! shut +up, you young idiot! . . ." Redmond, forehead pressed into the speaker's +shoulder, giggled hysterically in spite of himself--"Shut up! d'you hear? +or I'll knock your silly block off!" + +The two bodies shook, with their convulsive merriment. "You can't do it! +old thing," came George's smothered rejoinder, "and you know darned well +you can't--now! . . . Go on, you bloomin' Hodson!--proceed!" + +Yorke gave vent to a good-natured oath. "Hodson? . . . you do me proud, +my buck! . . . Well now!--this 'three men in a boat' business! . . . +I'll admit I 'rocked' it with Crampton. I virtually abolished him +because--oh! I couldn't stick the beggar at all. I simply couldn't make +a pal of him. He was fairly good at police work, but a proper cad, in my +opinion. Always swanking about the palatial residence he'd left behind +in the Old Country. He called it ''is 'ome' at that. Typical specimen +of the middle-class snob. Followed Taylor. Thick-headed, serious-minded +sort of fool. Had great veneration for 'his juty.' No real knowledge of +the Criminal Code, and minus common sense, yet begad! the silly beggar +tried to be more regimental that the blooming Force is itself. I +systematically put the wind up to him 'till he got cold feet and quit." + +Redmond recalled the fact that Taylor had been his predecessor. +"Followed!" he echoed mockingly, looking up at his handiwork. + +Yorke, with a twisted smile glanced down at the bruised, but debonair +young face. Benevolently he punched its owner in the back. +"Followed . . . a certain young fellow, yclept 'Nemesis'," he said, "I +sized you up for one of these smart Alecks--first crack out of the box, +and egad! I think I'm about right." + +Said Redmond, "How about our respected sergeant? we seem to have +forgotten him." + +"Slavin?" ejaculated the senior constable; and was silent awhile. There +was no levity in him now. Slowly he resumed, "I guess as much as it's +humanly possible for two men to know each other--down to the bedrock, +it's surely Burke Slavin and I. Should too, the years we've been +together. The good old beggar! . . . We slang each other, and all +that . . . but there's too much between us ever to resent anything for +long." + +"I know," said Redmond simply, "he told me himself--last night." + +"Eh?" queried Yorke sharply. "My God! . . . Tchkk!" he clucked, and +burying his hands in his face he gave vent to a fretful oath. "My God!" +he repeated miserably, "I'd forgotten--last night! . . . I sure must +have been 'lit' . . . to come that over old Burke. . . ." + +"You sure were!" remarked Redmond brutally. + +"Keats' 'St. Agnes' Eve'! . . . Oh, Lord!" . . . He drew in his breath +with a sibilant hiss, "There seems something--something devilish about--" + +"I know! I know!" breathed Yorke tensely, "what . . . you mean." His +haggard eyes implored Redmond's. "No! no! never again . . . I swear +it. . . ." + +There came a long, painful silence. "See here; look!" began Yorke +suddenly. He stopped and surveyed George, a trifle anxiously. +"Mind! . . . I'm not trying to justify myself but--get me right about +this now. Don't you ever start in making a mistake about Slavin--blarney +and all. No, Sir! I tell you when old Burke runs _amôk_ in those +tantrums he's a holy fright. He'd kill a man. Might as well run up +against a gorilla." + +A vision of the huge, sinister, crouching figure seemed to rise up in +Redmond's mind--the great, clutching, _simian_ hands. + +"In India," continued Yorke, "we'd say he'd got a touch of the 'Dulalli +Tap.' The man doesn't know his own strength. I was taking an awful +chance--getting his goat like that last night. It's a wonder he didn't +kill me. He's man-handled me pretty badly at times. Oh, well! I guess +it's been coming to me all right. Neither of us has ever dreamt of going +squalling to the Orderly-room over our . . . differences. I don't think +Burke's ever taken the trouble to 'peg' a man in his life. Not his way. +'I must take shteps!' says he, and 'I will take shteps!' and when he +starts in softly rubbing those awful great grub-hooks he calls +hands--together! . . . well! you want to look out." + +Lighting a cigarette he resumed reminiscently: "They were a tough crowd +to handle up in the Yukon. The devil himself 'd have been scared to butt +in to that 'Soapy Smith' gang; but, by gum! they were afraid of Slavin. +He doesn't drink much now, but he did then--mighty few that didn't--up +there--and I tell you, even our own fellows got a bit leery of him when +he used to start in 'trailing his coat.' They were glad when he 'came +outside.' That's one of the reasons why he's shoved out on a prairie +detachment. He wouldn't do at all for the Post. He never reports in +there more than he has to--dead scared of the old man, who's about the +only soul he is afraid of on earth. The O.C.'s awful sarcastic with him +at times, and that gets Burke's goat properly. He sure does hate getting +a choke-off from the old man." + +He grinned guiltily. "That's why he prefers to wash the family linen +strictly at home--what little there is. But, sarcasm and all, the O.C. +gives him credit for being onto his job--and it's coming to him, too. +He's quick acting and he's got the Criminal Code well-nigh by heart. +Regular blood-hound when he starts in working up a case." + +He yawned, and rising stiffly to his feet stretched his cramped limbs. +"We-ll! Reddy, my giddy young hopeful!--Now we've fallen on each other's +ruddy necks and kissed and wept and had a heart-to-heart talk we'll--" + +"Aw, quit making game, Yorkey! Is it a go? You know what I said?" + +Strangely compelling, Yorke found that bruised, eager, wistful young +face, with its earnest, honest eyes. "All right!" he agreed, with +languid bonhomie. "You've certainly earned the office of Dictator, and, +as I remarked--we really have quite a lot in common. Mind, though, you +don't repent of your bargain. One thing!" the curved, defiant nostrils +dilated faintly, "Seems the world always has use for us runagates in one +capacity. It's just the likes of us that compose the rank and file of +most of the Empire's military police forces. Who makes the best M.P. +man, executing duty, say, in a critical life-and-death hazard? The +cautious, upright, model young man, with a tender regard for a whole skin +and a Glorious Future? Or the poor devil who's lost all, and doesn't +care a d----n? We tackle the world's dangerous, dirty criminal work +and--swank and all--Society don't want to forget it." + +He pointed to their horses who were playfully rearing and biting at each +other in equine sport. "Look at old Parson and Fox tryin' to warm +themselves? Bloomin' fine example we've set 'em. Well! _allons_! _mon +camarade_, let's up and beat it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + _A deed accursed! Strokes have been struck before + By the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt + If more of horror or disgrace they bore; + But this foul crime, like Cain's, stands darkly out._ + THOMAS TAYLOR + + +Hastily dressing, the two policemen mounted and took the trail once more. +Side by side as they rode along, in each man's heart was an estimate of +the other vastly different from that with which they started out that +memorable morning. + +Yorke, his spirits now fully recovered, became quite companionably +communicative, relating picturesque, racy stories of India, the Yukon, +and other countries he had known. George, in receptive mood, listened in +silent appreciation to one of the most fascinating _raconteurs_ he had +ever met in his young life. Incidentally he felt relieved as he noted +his comrade now tactfully avoiding morbid egotism--dwelling but lightly +upon the milestones that marked his chequered career. + +The bodily stiffness and soreness, consequent upon their recent bout, was +now well-nigh forgotten, though occasionally they laughingly rallied each +other as the sharp air stung their bruised faces. They were just +surmounting the summit of a long, steep grade in the trail. + +Said Redmond dubiously: "See here; look! I'm darned if I like getting +the freedom of the City of Cow Run sportin' such a pretty mug as this! +How many more miles to this giddy burg, old thing?" + +Yorke grinned unfeelingly. "Hard on nine miles to go yet. We're about +half way. _Isch ga bibble_! . . . open your ditty-box and sing! you +blooming whip-poor-will." + + "A werry heart goes all the way, + But a sad one tires in a mile a'; + A--" + +The old lilt died on his lips. With a startled oath he reined in sharply +and, shielding his eyes from the sun-glare, remained staring straight in +front of him. They had just topped the crest of the rise. The eastward +slope showed a low-lying, undulating stretch of snow-bound country, +sparsely dotted with clumps of poplar and alder growth, through which the +trail wound snake-like into the fainter distance. Southwards, below the +rolling, shelving benches, lay the river, a steaming black line, twisting +interminably between frosty, bush-fringed banks. + +No less startled than his companion, Redmond pulled up also and stared +with him. Not far distant on the trail ahead of them they beheld a dark, +ominous-looking mass, vividly conspicuous against the snow. Suddenly the +object moved and resolved itself unmistakably into a horse struggling to +rise. For an instant they saw the head and the fore-part of the body +lift, and then flop prone again. Close against it lay another dark +object. + +"Horse down!" snapped Yorke tersely. "Hell!" he added, "looks like a man +there, too! come on quick!" + +Responding to a shake of the lines and a fierce thrust of the spurs, +their horses leapt forward and they raced towards their objective. + +"Steady! steady!" hissed Yorke, checking his mount as they drew near the +fallen animal and its rider, "pull Fox a bit, Red! Mustn't scare the +horse!" + +Slackening into a walk, they flung out of saddle, dropped their lines, +crouched, and crept warily forward. The horse, a big, splendid +seal-brown animal, had fallen on its right side, with its off fore-leg +plunged deep in a snow-filled badger-hole. The body of the man lay also +on the off-side with one leg under his mount. The stiffened form was a +ghastly object to behold, being literally encased in an armour-like shell +of frozen, claret-coloured snow. + +At the approach of the would-be rescuers the poor brute whinnied +pitifully and made another ineffectual attempt to rise. Yorke flung +himself onto the head and held it down, while George dived frantically +for the man's body, and tugged until he had got the leg from under. + +"Hung up! by God!" gasped the former, "his foot's well-nigh through the +stirrup!" + +Redmond, ex-medical student, made swift examination. "Dead!" he +pronounced with finality, "Good God! dead as a herring! The man's been +dragged and kicked to death!" He made a futile effort to release the +imprisoned foot. + +"No! no!" cried Yorke sharply, "no use doing that if he's dead. +Coroner's got to view things as they are." + +The horse began to struggle again painfully. Peering down the +badger-hole they could see the broken bone of its leg protruding bloodily +through the skin. Yorke released one hand and reached for his gun. + +"Poor old chap!" he said, "we'll fix you. Quick Red! pull the body as +far back as the stirrup-legadeiro'll go! That'll do! There, old +boy! . . ." + +And with practised hand he sent a merciful bullet crashing through brain +and spinal cord. The hind legs threshed awhile, but presently, with a +muscular quiver they stiffened and all was still. Yorke, releasing his +hold struggled to his feet, and the two men stared pityingly at what lay +before them. What those merciless, steel-shod hoofs had left of the head +and the youthful body indicated a man somewhere in his twenties. His +ice-bound outer clothing consisted of black Angora goatskin chaps and a +short sheepskin coat. + +"Can't place him--like this," muttered Yorke, after prolonged scrutiny, +"but I seem to know the horse." + +Suddenly he uttered a sharp exclamation--something between a groan and a +cry. Redmond, startled at a new horror apparent on the other's ghastly +face, clutched him by the arm. + +"What's up?" he queried tensely. + +Yorke struggled to speak. "Fox!" he gasped presently--"this +morning. . . . I never told you. My God!--You might have got hung up +like this, too." + +"No! no! Yorkey!" Redmond almost shouted the disclaimer, "Slavin wised +me up to that trick of his yesterday. I forgot. It was my own fault I +got piled like that. Forget it, old man! I say forget it!" + +He shook the other's arm with a sort of savage gentleness. + +A look of vague relief dawned on Yorke's haggard face. "Ay, so!" he +murmured, and paused with brooding indecision. "That's absolved my +conscience some, but not altogether." + +They remained silent awhile after this. Presently Yorke pulled +himself together and spoke briskly and decisively. "Well, now! we'll +have to get busy. Blair's place is only about three miles from +here--nor'east--they're on the long-distance 'phone. Doctor Cox of Cow +Run's the coroner for this district. If I can get hold of him I'll get +him to come out right-away--and I'll notify Slavin." + +Catching up his horse he swung into the saddle. "I'll be back here on +the jump. You stick around, and say, Reddy, you might as well have a +dekko at the lay of things while you're waiting. Where he came off the +perch, how far he's been dragged, and all that. Be careful though, keep +well to the side and don't foul up the tracks. And don't get too far +away, either!" + +He galloped off and soon disappeared over a distant rise. Left to +himself George mounted Fox and set to work to follow out the senior +constable's instructions. + + +"Well?" queried Yorke, swinging wearily out of his saddle an hour or so +later, "How'd you make out? Find the place where he flopped? Rum sort +of perch you've got there--you look like Patience on a monument!" + +George, seated upon the rump of the dead horse, nodded and grunted +laconic response: "Sure. 'Bout two miles down the trail there. How'd +you get along, Yorkey? Did you raise Slavin and the coroner?" + +"Got Slavin all hunkadory," said the senior constable briefly, "he should +be here soon, now. Dr. Cox'd just left for Wilson's, two miles this side +of Cow Run. They're on the 'phone, too; so I left word there for him to +come on here right away." He seated himself alongside the other. + +Awhile they carried on a desultory, more or less speculative conversation +anent the fatality, until they grew morbidly weary of contemplating the +poor broken body. Yorke slid off the dead horse suddenly. + +"Wish Slavin were here!" he said, "let's take a dekko from the top of the +rise, Reddy, see'f we can see him coming. I'm getting cold sitting here." + +Redmond, nothing loath, complied. Mounting, they turned back to the +summit of the ridge. Reaching it, the jingle of bells smote their ears, +and they espied the Police cutter approaching them at a rapid pace. + +"Like unto Jehu, the son of Nimshi!" murmured Yorke, "he's sure springing +old T and B up the grade." + +Sergeant Slavin pulled up his smoking team along-side his two mounted +subordinates. "So ho, bhoys!" was his greeting, "fwhat's this bizness?" + +Yorke rapidly acquainted him with all the details. At one point in his +narration he had occasion to turn to George: "That's how it was, Reddy?" +And the latter replied, "That's about the lay of it, Yorkey." + +The sergeant listened, but absently. To them it did not seem exactly to +be an occasion for levity; but they could have sworn that, behind an +exaggerated grimness of mien, he was striving to suppress some inward +mirth, as his deep-set Irish eyes roved from face to face. + +"Yez luk as if yez had been hung up an' dhragged tu--th' pair av yez," he +remarked casually. + +Remembrance smote the two culprits. They exchanged guilty glances and +swallowed the home-thrust in silence. + +Slavin clucked to his team. "Walk-_march_, thin!" said he. + +Wheeling sharply about, they started down the trail again, the cutter +following in their wake. If their consciences would have permitted them +to glance back they would have remarked their superior's face registering +unholy delight. + +Out of the corner of his mouth Redmond shot, tensely, "Dye think he--" + +"Oh!" broke in Yorke resignedly, sotto voce. "You can't fool him! . . . +_Isch ga bibble_, anyway!" + +"Yorkey!" an' "Reddy!" that worthy was mumbling tu himself--over and over +again, "_Yorkey_!" an' "_Reddy_!" "'Tis so they name each other--now! +Blarney me sowl! 'Tis come about! Fifty-fifty, tu--from th' mugs av +thim. Peace, perfect peace, in th' fam'ly at last! Eyah! I wud have +given me month's pay-cheque for a ring-side seat." He sighed deeply. + +They reached the fatal spot. Slavin, his levity gone, stepped out of the +cutter and, retaining the lines of his restive team, stared long at the +gruesome spectacle before him, with a sort of callous sadness. + +"These tu must have lain here th' night," he remarked, indicating the +frost-rimed forms, "have yez sized things up? Got th' lay av fwhere ut +happened?" + +Redmond made affirmative response. + +"Can you place him, Sergeant?" queried Yorke. + +"Eyah! Onless I am vastly mishtuk. Whoa, now! shtand still, ye fules! +Fwhat yez a-scared av? Here, Yorkey! hold T an' B a minnut!" + +He pushed over his lines to the latter and, producing a pair of +leather-cased brand-inspector's clippers, he cropped bare a circular +patch on the defunct horse's nigh shoulder. Shorn of the thick, +seal-brown winter hair, the brand was now plainly visible. Enlightenment +came to Yorke in a flash, as he peered over his superior's shoulder. + +"D Two!" he gasped, "I knew I'd seen that horse somewhere! It's +'Duster,' Larry Blake's horse. Tchkk! this must be him. My God!" + +"Shure!" snapped Slavin testily. "Wake up! Is yeh're mem'ry goin', man? +One av yeh're own cases last month, tu!" He tenderly pocketed the +clippers. "Yes! ye shud know him!"--dryly--"lukked troo th' bottom av a +glass wid him often enough." + +"Let's see'f he's got any letters or anything in his pockets--to make +sure!" began Redmond eagerly. Suiting the action to the word he bent +down to investigate. But Slavin intruded a huge arm. "Hould on, bhoy!" +he said, with all an old policeman's fussiness over rightful procedure. +"Du not touch! That is th' coroner's bizness. Did they not dhrill that +inta yeh at Regina?" + +He stared thoughtfully at the corpse. "Dhrink an' th' divil! eyah! +dhrink an' th' divil!"--sadly. "Larry, me pore bhoy! niver more will ye +come a-whoopin' ut out av Cow Run on yeh 'Duster' horse . . . +shpiflicated belike an' singin' 'Th' Brisk Young Man." Austerely he +glanced at Yorke, "'Tis a curse, this same dhrink!" + +"How do you know the poor beggar was drunk?" queried the latter, a trifle +sulkily. "He may have been as sober as you or I." + +"Shpeak for yehsilf!" retorted Slavin dryly, "Ah! this must be Docthor +Cox comin' now!" + +A cutter containing two men was approaching them rapidly. Presently it +drew up alongside the group and a short, rotund gentleman, clad in furs, +sprang out and came swiftly, bag in hand. He was middle-aged, with a +gray moustache and kind, alert, dark eyes. Greeting the policemen +quietly, he turned to the broken body. + +"Tchkk! good God!" He shook his head sadly. Redmond thought he had +never seen a medical man so unprofessionally shocked. Presently he +straightened up and turned to Slavin. "Can you identify him, Sergeant?" + +That worthy nodded. "Eyah! 'tis Larry Blake, I'm thinking Docthor. Best +frisk him now an' see, I guess. Maybe he has letthers." + +Hastily diving into his bag the coroner produced a pair of long keen +scissors and slit the short, frozen sheepskin coat. In the breast-pocket +of the coat underneath, amongst other miscellany two old letters rewarded +his search. He glanced at the superscriptions and handed them up to +Slavin. + +"Larry Blake it is," he said. He felt the soggy, pulped head. "Skull's +stove right in. Any one of these smashes would have sufficed to kill +him." He clipped the hair around a ghastly gaping crevice at the base of +the head. + +Suddenly he peered closely, uttered an exclamation, peered again and drew +back. "Sergeant!" he said sharply, "D'ye see that?--No need to ask you +what that is!" In an unbroken portion of the back of the skull he +indicated a small, circular orifice. The trio craned forward and made +minute examination. Slavin ejaculated an oath and glanced up at +Yorke--almost remorsefully. + +"I take ut all back," he said. Meeting the coroner's blank, enquiring +stare he added: "Booze, Docthor--we thought ut might be. . . . Yeh know +Larry!" + +The physician of Cow Run nodded understandingly. Slavin bent again and +made close scrutiny of the bullet-hole. "_Back_ av th' head, no powdher +marks!" He straightened up. "Docther, are ye thru? All right, thin! +Guess we'll book up an' start in." + +Methodically they all produced note-books and entered the needful +particulars. The lanky individual who had driven the coroner out brought +forward a tarpaulin and spread it on the ground. With some difficulty +the over-shoed foot was disengaged from the imprisoning stirrup, the body +rolled in the tarpaulin and deposited in the rear of the doctor's cutter. +The saddle and bridle were flung into the Police cutter. They then +rolled the dead horse clear of the trail. + +That night the coyotes held grim, snarling carnival. + +Slavin turned to Redmond. "Ye've located th' place, eh?" The latter +nodded. "All right, thin, get mounted, th' tu av yez, an' lead on!" + +Keeping needfully wide of the broad, claret-bespotted swath in the snow, +the party started trailing back. Yorke and George rode ahead. The +latter glanced around to make sure of being out of earshot of their +sergeant. + +"We-ll of all the hardened old cases! . . . Slavin sure does crown 'em!" +he muttered to his comrade. + +"Hardened!" Yorke laughed grimly. "You should have seen him up in the +Yukon! The man's been handling these rotten morgue cases 'till he'd +qualify for the Seine River Police. He's got so he ascribes well-nigh +everything now to 'dhrink an' th' divil.'" His face softened, "but I +know the real heart of old Burke under it all." + +About two miles down the trail Redmond halted. + +"Here it is!" he said. And he indicated an irregular, blood-soaked, +clawed-up patch in the snow where the sanguinary swath ended. They +dismounted. Slavin drawing up alongside the coroner's cutter handed over +his lines to the teamster. + +"Now!" said he, "let's shtart in! . . . Ye must have 'shpotted this on +yeh way up, Docthor?" He pointed to the patch. + +The latter nodded. "Yes! we thought it must have happened here." + +For some few seconds, with one accord the party stared about them at +their surroundings. The frozen landscape at this point presented a +singularly lonely, desolate aspect. Flat, and for the greater part +absolutely bare of brush; save where from a small coulee some half mile +to the left of the trail the tops of a cotton-wood clump were visible. +Far to the right-hand, more than a mile away, stretched the first of the +shelving benches, where the high ground sloped away in irregular jumps, +as it were, to the river. + +"Best ye shtay fwhere ye all are," cautioned the sergeant, "'till I size +up th' lay av things a bit. I du not want th' thracks fouled up. H-mm! +let's see now!" He remained in deep, thoughtful silence a space. +"Thravellin' towards us," he muttered--"th' back av th' head!" + +Hands clasped behind bent back, and with head thrust loweringly forward +from between his huge shoulders he paced slowly down the trail for some +hundred yards. That grim, intent face and the swaying gait reminded +Redmond of some huge bloodhound casting about for a scent. + +Halting irresolutely a moment, Slavin presently faced about and returned. +"Wan harse on'y!" he vouchsafed to their silent looks of enquiry. "He +had not company. Must have been shot from lift or right av th' thrail." +He stared around him at the bare sweep of ground. "Now fwhere cud any +livin' man find cover here in th' full av th' moon, tu get th' range wid +a small arm? He wud show up agin' th' snow like th' ace av shpades an' +he thried." + +Suddenly his jaw dropped and he stiffened. "Ah-hh!" His eyes rivetted +themselves on some object and his huge arm shot out. "Fwhat's yon?" + +They all stared in the direction he indicated. Plastered with frosted +snow, until it was all but undiscernible against its white background, +lay an enormous boulder--a relic, perchance, of some vast pre-historic +upheaval. It was situated at an oblique angle to the trail, about a +hundred yards distant. + +With stealthy, quickened steps Slavin made his way towards it. Tensely +they watched him. In each man's mind now was a vague feeling of +certainty of something, they knew not what. They saw him reach the +boulder, walk round it and stoop, peering at its base for a few moments. +Then suddenly he straightened up and beckoned to them. + +"Thread in file," he called out warningly. Yorke led, and, treading +heedfully in each other's foot-marks, they reached the spot. Slavin +silently pointed downwards. There, plainly discernible on the surface of +the wind-packed, hard-crusted snow, were the corrugated imprints of +overshoed feet--coming and going apparently in the direction of the +previously mentioned coulee. + +Redmond indicated two rounded impressions at the foot of the boulder, +with two smaller ones behind. "Must have hunched himself on his knees +behind, eh?" he queried in a low voice. + +Slavin nodded. The rays of the westering sun coming from back of a cloud +glinted on something in the snow, a few feet away from the tracks. It +caught Yorke's eyes and with an exclamation he picked it up. + + "_--gold, raw gold, the spent shell rolled--_" + +he quoted. "Here you are, Burke!" + +Slavin uttered a delighted oath as he examined the small, bottle-necked +shell of the automatic variety. ".38 Luger!" he said. "A high-pressure +'gat' like that is oncommon hereabouts!" Passing it on to the coroner he +whistled softly. "My God! Fwhativer sort av a gun-artist is ut +that--even allowin' for th' moonlight--can pick a man off thru' th' head +wid a revolver at this distance? . . . an' wan shell on'y? . . . 'Soapy +Smith' himself cu'dn't have beat this!" + +He proceeded to sift some fine, crisp snow in one of the imprints, then, +producing an old letter from his pocket, he flattened out the +type-written sheets of foolscap therein. Placing the blank side of the +sheet face-downwards upon the imprint he pressed down smartly. The +result was a very fair impression of the footmark, which he immediately +outlined in pencil. + +A strange ominous silence fell upon the group. Deep in wild, whirling +conjecture, each man gazed about him. The desolate, sinister aspect of +their surroundings struck them with a sudden chill. Yorke voiced the +general sentiment. + +"My God!" he said in a low voice, "but it sure is dreary!" + +With a final, self-satisfying survey at his "lay av things" Slavin +stepped well to the side of the incriminating foot-prints. "Come on!" he +said "get in file behint me! We will follow this up!" + +Silently they obeyed and padded in his rear. + +"D----d big feet, whoever owns 'em," remarked Redmond to Yorke. + +Slavin heard him. "Ay!" he flung back grimly. "An' they will shtand on +th' dhrop yet--thim same feet!" + +The tracks returning in the direction of the coulee presented a vast +contrast to the approaching imprints. Where the latter denoted an even, +steady stride, the former ran in queer, irregular fashion--sometimes +bunched together, and at others with wide spaces between. + +"'On th' double!'" remarked Slavin observantly. + +"Must have got scairt!" + +"Ah!" murmured the coroner, reflectively, "though the Bible doesn't +expressly state so, I guess Cain, too, got on the 'double' as you call +it--after he killed Abel." + +They finally reached the coulee where the tracks, debouching from the +steep edge, passed along its rim and presently descended the more shallow +end of the draw. Their leader eventually halted at the foot of a small +cotton-wood tree where the human foot-prints ended. There in the snow +they beheld a hoof-trampled space, which, together with broken twigs, +indicated a tethered horse. + +This served for comment and speculation awhile. + +The sergeant, producing a small tape measure dotted down careful +measurements of the over-shoed imprints and their length of stride, also +the size of the shod hoof-marks. + +Redmond drew his attention to blood-stains in several of the latter. +"Shod with 'never-slip' calks, Sergeant!" he said. "Must have slipped +somewhere and 'calked' himself on the 'coronet,' I guess?" + +"Eyah!" muttered Slavin approvingly, "Th' 'nigh-hind' 'tis, note, +bhoy! . . . 't'will serve good thrailin' that. Well, let's follow ut on!" + +Wearily his companions plodded on in his wake. The tracks, after +following the draw for a short distance, suddenly wound up a steep, +narrow path on the left side of the coulee. Reaching the surface of the +level ground, they circled until they struck into the main trail east +again, about a mile below where the party had left their horses. Here, +merged amongst countless others on the well-travelled highway, they +became more difficult to trace, though occasionally the faint +blood-stains proclaimed their identity. + +Slavin pulled up. "Luks as if he'd shtruck back tu Cow Run again," he +said with conviction. "Must have come from there, tu--thracks was goin' +and comin' an' ye noticed, fwhin we climbed out av th' coulee back there. +We must luk for a harse wid th' nigh-hind badly 'calked.' Yorkey! yu' +get back an' tell that Lanky Jones feller tu come on. Hitch yez own +harses behint our cutter an' take th' lines." He squinted at the sun and +pulled out his watch. "'Tis four o'clock, begob! Twill turn bitther +cowld whin th' sun goes down." + +The coroner smiled knowingly. "Talking about 'calks'!" he remarked; and +diving into the deep recesses of his fur coat he produced a +comfortable-looking leather-encased flask. "A little 'calk' all round +won't hurt us after that tramp, Sergeant!" he observed kindly. + +Their transport presently arriving, they proceeded on their way to Cow +Run, Yorke and Redmond watching carefully for any tracks debouching from +the main trail. Occasionally they dismounted to verify the incriminating +hoof-prints which still continued eastward. In this fashion they finally +drew to the level of the river, where the trail forked; one arm of it +following more or less the winding course of the Bow River back westward. +At this junction they searched narrowly until they found unmistakable +indication of the blood-tinged tracks still heading in the direction of +Cow Run. + +"What was that case of yours, Yorkey?" enquired Redmond. "You know--what +Slavin was talking about?" + +"Mix-up over that horse," replied Yorke laconically, "disputed ownership. +A chap named Moran tried to run a bluff over Larry that he'd lost the +horse as a colt. They got to scrapping and I ran 'em both up before +Gully, the J. P. here. Moran got fined twenty dollars and costs for +assaulting Blake. Say! look at that sky! Isn't it great?" + +They turned in their saddles and looked westward. Clean-cut against a +pale yellow-ochre background and enveloped in a deep purple bloom, the +mighty peaks of the distant "Rockies" upreared their eternal snow-capped +glory in a salute to departing day. Above, where the opaline-tinted +horizon shaded imperceptibly into the deep ultramarine of evening, lay +glowing streamers of vivid crimson cloud-bank edged with the gleaming +gold of the sunset's after-glow. + +It was a soul-filling sight. Against it the sordid contrast of the +sinister business in hand smote them like a blow from an unseen hand, as +they resumed their monotonous scanning of the trail on its either side. + +Yorke presently voiced the impression in both their hearts. "My God'" he +murmured "the bitter irony of it! 'Peace on Earth, goodwill towards +men' . . . and this!--what?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + _Oh! Bad Bill Brough, a way-back tough + Raised hell when he struck town; + With gun-in-fist met Sergeant Twist-- + It sure was some show-down_. + BALLAD OF SERGEANT TWIST + + +Cow Run was reached in the gathering dusk. Seen under winter conditions +the drab little town looked dreary and uninviting enough as the party +negotiated its main street. A frame-built hotel, a livery-stable, a +small church, a school-house, a line of false-fronted stores, and some +three-score dwellings failed to arouse in George an enthusiastic desire +to become a permanent resident of Cow Run. + +The corpse they deposited temporarily in an empty shack situated in the +rear of the doctor's residence. From long usage this place had come to +be accepted as the common morgue of the district. After arranging +details with the coroner anent the morrow's inquest, and carefully +searching the dead man, the sergeant and his two subordinates repaired to +the livery-stable to put up their horses. + +Nicholas Lee, the keeper of this establishment greeted them with wheezy +cordiality, apportioned to them stable-room and guaranteed especial care +of their horses. In appearance that worthy would have made a passable +understudy for the elder Weller, being red-faced, generous of girth and +short of breath. In addition to his regular calling he filled--or was +supposed to fill--the office of "town constable" and pound-keeper. A +sort of village "Dogberry." Incidentally it might be mentioned that he +also could have laid claim to be a "wictim of circumstances"; having but +recently contracted much the same sort of hymeneal bargain as did the +Dickensian character. The sympathy of Cow Run, individually and +collectively, was extended to him on this account. + +From his somewhat garrulous recital of the day's events it was +satisfactorily evident to his hearers that wind of the murder had not +struck Cow Run as yet. For obvious reasons Slavin had enjoined strict +secrecy upon Lanky Jones, Lee's stable-hand. + +"Ar!" wheezed Lee. "It's a good job yu' fellers is come. That ther +'Windy Moran's' bin raisin' hell over in the hotel th' las' two days. He +got to fightin' ag'in las' night with Larry Blake--over that hawss. Bob +Ingalls an' Chuck Reed an' th' bunch dragged 'em apart an' tol' Larry to +beat it back to his ranch--which he did. Windy--they got him to bed, an' +kep' him ther all night, as he swore he'd shoot Larry. He's still over +ther, nasty-drunk an' shootin' off what he's goin' t' do." + +He rubbed his hands in gleeful anticipation, gloating deeply in his +throat: "Stirrin' times! ar! stirrin' times! . . . Now--'bout that ther +hobo, Sargint--" + +"Aw! damn th' hobo!" exploded Slavin impatiently. "Here, Nick! show me +Windy's harse. Fwhat? Niver yeh mind fwhat for . . . now! Yu'll know +all 'bout that later." + +His native curiosity balked, the old gossip, with a slightly injured air, +indicating a big sorrel saddle-horse standing in a stall opposite the +Police team. Slavin backed the animal out. It seemed to be lame. With +fierce eagerness they examined its "nigh-hind" leg--and found what they +sought for. + +For there--where the hair joins the hoof, technically known as the +"coronet"--was a deep, jagged wound, such as is caused usually by a horse +slipping and jabbing itself with sharp-pointed shoe-calks. The hoof +itself was stained a dull red where the blood had run down. Slavin +picked up a fore-foot and exhibited to them the round-pointed, screwed-in +calks, commonly known as "neverslips." He took the measurements of the +shoe and glanced at his note-book. + +Finally, with a significant gesture and amidst dead silence, he thrust +the book back in his pocket. Handing over the horse to Lee he bade him +tie it up again. + +Wordlessly, the trio exchanged mystified glances. "See here; look, +Nick!" Slavin grasped the livery-man's fat shoulder and looked grimly +into the startled, rubicund face. "I'm a-goin' tu put a question tu yeh, +an' 'member now. . . . I want yeh tu think harrd! . . . Now--whin Larry +Blake came in tu saddle-up an' pull out last night was that ther sorrel +o' Windy's still in th' stable--or not?" + +"Eh?" gasped Lee at last, "I dunno! Me nor Lanky wasn't around when +Larry pulled out. We was over t' th' hotel, Sarjint." + +Slavin released the man's shoulder with a testy, balked gesture. "Yes! +enjoyin' th' racket an' dhrunk like th' rist, I guess! . . . 'Tis a +foine sort av town-constable yez are!" + +Nick Lee maintained his air of injured innocence. "I came round here +'bout midnight, anyways!" he protested. "I always do--jes' t' see 'f +everythin's all right. That hawss was in then, I will swear--'cause I +'member his halter-shank'd come untied and I fixed it. Ev'rythin' in th' +garden was lovely 'cep' fur that 'damned hobo sneakin' round. He was +gettin' a drink at th' trough an' I chased him. But he beat it up inta +th' loft an'--I'm that scared of fire," he ended lamely, "I never lock up +fur that." + +Slavin nodded wisely. "Yes! I guess he made his getaway from yu'--easy. +Mighty long toime since yuh've bin able tu dhrag yeh're guts up that +ladder--lit alone squeege thru' th' thrap-dhure. Bet Lanky does all th' +chorin'." He glanced around him impatiently, "But this here's all +talk--it don't lead nowheres. Hullo! this is Gully's team, ain't it?" +He indicated a splendid pair of roans standing in a double stall nearby. + +"Yes!" said Lee, "he pulled in las' night t' catch th' nine-thirty down +t' Calgary. He ain't back yet." + +"Fwas he--" Slavin checked himself abruptly--"fwhat toime did he get in +here?" + +"'Bout nine." + +"Fwhat toime 'bout fwas ut whin this racket shtarted up betune Windy an' +Larry?" + +"Oh, I dunno, Sarjint!--'bout nine, may be--as I say I--" + +"Come on!" said the sergeant, abruptly, to his men, "let's go an' eat. +Luk afther thim harses good, Nick," he flung back in a kind tone. + +Outside in the dark road they gathered together, bandying mystified +conjecture in low tones. "'Tis no use arguin', bhoys," snapped Slavin at +last, wearily, "we've got tu see Chuck Reed an' Bob Ingalls an' Brophy av +th' hotel. Their wurrd goes--they're straight men. If they had Windy +corralled all night, as Nick sez . . . fwhy! . . . that let's Windy out." + +He was silent awhile, then: "That harse av Windy's," he burst out with an +oath, "I thought 't'was a cinch. Somethin' passin' rum 'bout all this. +There's abs'lutely no mistake 'bout th' harse. Somebody in this +god-forsaken burg must ha' used him tu du th' killin' wid. Well, let's +get on." + +Suddenly, as they neared the hotel, a veritable bedlam of sound fell upon +their ears, apparently from inside that hostelry--men shouting, a dog +barking, and above all the screeching, crazed voice of a drunken man. + +The startled policemen dashed into the front entrance, through the office +and across the passage into the bar beyond, from whence the uproar +proceeded. + +"Help! Murder! Pleece!" some apparently high-strung individual was +bawling. A ludicrous, but nevertheless dangerous, sight met their eyes. + +A motley crowd, composed mainly of well-dressed passengers from off the +temporarily-stalled West-bound train and a sprinkling of townsfolk, were +backed--hands up--into a corner of the bar by a big, hard-faced man clad +in range attire who was menacing them with a long-barrelled revolver. He +was dark-haired and swarthy, with sinister, glittering eyes. One +red-headed, red-nosed individual had apparently resented parting with the +drink that he had paid for; as in one decidedly-shaky elevated hand he +still clutched his glass, its whiskey and water contents slopping down +the neck of his nearest unfortunate neighbour. + +"Mon!" he apologized, in tearful accents, "Ah juist canna help it!" + +"Pitch up!" the "bad man" was shrieking, "Pitch up! yu' ----s!--That +d----d Blake--that d----d Gully! Stealin' my hawss away'f me an' gittin' +me fined! I'll git back at somebody fur this! _Pleece_! yes!--yeh kin +holler '_Pleece_!'--Let me get th' drop on th' red-coated, yelluh-laigged +sons of ----! Ah-hh!"--His eyes glittered with his insane passion, "Here +they come! Now! watch th' ----s try an' arrest me!" + +Fairly frothing at the mouth, the man, at that moment working himself +into a frenzy, was plainly as dangerous as a mad dog. Drunk though he +undoubtedly was, he did not stagger as he stepped to and fro with +cat-like activity, his gun levelled at the policemen's heads. It was an +ugly situation. Slavin and his men taken utterly by surprise hesitated, +as well they might; for a single attempt to draw their sidearms might +easily bring inglorious death upon one or another of them. + +We have noted that on a previous occasion Redmond demonstrated his +ability to think and act quickly. He upheld that reputation now. Like a +flash he ducked behind Slavin's broad shoulders and backed into the +passage. Picking up at random the first missile available--to wit--an +empty soda-water bottle, he tip-toed swiftly along the passage to a door +opening into the bar lower down. This practically brought him +broadside-on to his man. A moment he peered and judged his distance +then, drawing back his arm he flung the bottle with all his force. At +McGill he had been a base-ball pitcher of some renown, so his aim was +true. The bottle caught its objective full in the ear. With a scream of +pain the man staggered forward and clutched with one hand at his head, +his gun still in his grip sagging floorwards. + +Instantly then, Yorke, who was the nearest, sprang at him like a tiger +and, ranging one arm around his enemy's bull neck, strove with the other +to wrest the gun from his grasp. It was a feat however, more easily +imagined than accomplished--to disarm a powerful, active man. The tense +fingers tightened immediately upon the weapon and resisted to their +uttermost. Slavin and Redmond both had their side-arms drawn now, but +they were afraid to use them, on Yorke's account. The combatants were +whirling giddily to and fro, the muzzle of the gun describing every point +of the compass. + +Taking a risky chance, Slavin, watching his opportunity suddenly closed +with the struggling men and, raising his arm brought the barrel of his +heavy Colt's .45 smashing down on the knuckles of the crazed man's +gun-hand. Instantaneously the latter's weapon dropped to the floor. + +Bang! The cocked hammer discharged one chamber--the bullet ricocheting +off the brass bar-rail deflected through a cluster of glasses and +bottles, smashing them and a long saloon-mirror into a myriad splinters. +But few of the company there escaped the deadly flying glass, as +badly-gashed faces immediately testified. It all happened in quicker +time than it takes to relate. + +"'Crown' him!" gasped Yorke, still grimly hanging onto his man, "'Crown' +the ---- good and hard!" + +Redmond sprang forward, grasping a small, shot-loaded police "billy," but +Slavin interposed a huge arm. + +"Nay!" he said sharply, and with curious eagerness, "Du not 'chrown' um +bhoy! lave um tu me!" And he grasped one of the big, struggling man's +wrists firmly in a vise-like grip. "Leggo, Yorkey!" + +The latter obeyed with alacrity, and stooping he picked up the fallen +gun. He had an inkling of what was coming. + +"Ah-hh!" Slavin gloated gutterally, as he whirled his victim giddily +around and brought the man up facing him with a violent jerk--"Windy +Moran, avick!"--softly and cruelly--"me wud-be cock av a wan-harse +dump!--me wud-be 'bad-man'! . . . Oh, yes! 'tis both shockin' an' brutil +tu misthreat ye I know but--surely, surely yeh desarve somethin' for all +this!" And he drew back his formidable right arm. + +Smack! The terrific impact of that one, terrible open-handed slap nearly +knocked his victim through the bar-room wall. The head rocked sideways +and the big body turned completely round. Eyes rushing water and one +profile now resembling a slab of bloodied liver, the man reeled about in +a circle as if bereft of sight. + +"Oh-hh!--Ooh!--No-o!--Ah-hh!" The wild, moaning cry for quarter came +gaspingly out of puffed, blood-foamed lips. But there was no mercy in +Slavin. He looked round at the wrecked bar, the glass-slashed bleeding +faces of his men and the rest of the saloon's occupants. He thought upon +many things--how near ignoble death many of them had been but a few +minutes before--upon insult and threat flaunted at them by a drunken, +ruffling braggadocio!--and he jerked the latter to him once more. + +But his two subordinates jumped forward and made violent protest. +"Steady!" It was Yorke now who appealed for leniency--"Go easy, Burke! +for God's sake! You've handed him one good swipe--if he get's another +like that he'll be all in--won't be able to talk. Let it go at that!" + +The sergeant remained silent, breathing thickly and glaring at his +prisoner with sinister, glittering eyes, and still retaining the latter's +wrist in his iron grip. But eventually the force of Yorke's reasoning +prevailed with him. Drawing out his hand-cuffs he snapped them on the +man's wrists and haled him roughly out of the bar into the hotel office. +The crowd, recovering somewhat from their scare, would have followed, but +he curtly ordered them back and closed the door. + +"Brophy!" He beckoned the angry, frightened hotel-proprietor forward. +"Is Bob Ingalls and Chuck Reed still in town?" + +"Sure!" replied the latter, "They was both in here 'bout half an hour +ago, anyways." + +Slavin turned to Yorke. "Go yu an' hunt up thim fellers an' bring thim +here!" he ordered. + +"Ravin'--clean bug-house! that's what he is!" wailed Brophy. "That bar +o' mine! oh, Lord! Yu'll git it soaked to yu' this time, Windy, an' +don't yu' furgit it!" + +The prisoner paid no attention to the landlord's revilings. Slumped down +in a chair he had relapsed into a sort of sulky stupor, though he cringed +visibly whenever Slavin bent on him his thoughtful, sinister gaze. + +Presently Yorke returned, bringing with him two respectable-looking men, +apparently ranchers, from their appearance. + +Slavin nodded familiarly to them. "Ingalls!" he addressed one of them +"I'm given tu undhershtand that yuh an' Chuck Reed there tuk charge av +this feller--" he indicated the prisoner--"last night, whin he had that +racket wid Larry Blake in th' bar? Fwhat was they rowin' over?" + +"That hawss o' Blake's mostly," was Ingalls' laconic answer. "Course +they was slingin' everythin' else they could dig down an' drag up, too." +He chewed thoughtfully a moment, "We had some time with 'em," he added. + +"Shore did!" struck in Reed. "We was scared fur Larry, so we told him to +beat it home--which he did--an' then we got Windy up to bed an' stayed +with him nigh all night." + +Slavin looked at Brophy interrogatively. "Yuh can vouch for this, tu, +Billy? He's bin in yu're place iver since th' throuble smarted?" + +Brophy nodded. "Yes! d----n him! I wish he had got out before this +bizness started. Yes! he's bin here right along, Sarjint! why?--what's +up?" + +Slavin evaded the direct question for the moment. Silently awhile he +gazed at the three wondering faces. "Now, I'll tell yez!" he said +slowly. And briefly he informed them of the murder--omitting all detail +of the clues obtained later. They listened with wide eyes and broke out +into startled exclamations. The prisoner struggled up from the chair, +his bruised, ghastly face registering fear and genuine astonishment. +Redmond shoved him back again. + +"If any feller thinks--" Moran relapsed into maudlin, hysterical +protestations of innocence, calling upon the Deity to bear witness that +he was innocent and had no knowledge whatever of how Blake came to his +death. + +Eventually silence fell upon all. Slavin cogitated awhile, then he +turned to Brophy. "Who else was in, Billy? Out av town fellers I mean, +fwhin this racket occurred betune these tu? Thry an' think now!" + +Brophy pondered long and presently reeled off a few names. Slavin heard +him out and shook his head negatively. "Nothin' doin' there!" he +announced finally, "Mr. Gully was in, yuh say? Did he see anythin' av +this row?" + +"Cudn't help it, I guess," replied Brophy. "He just come inta th' office +for his grip while it was a-goin' on. He beat it out quick for th' +East-bound as had just come in. Said he was runnin' down to Calgary. He +ain't back yet. Guess he wudn't want to go gettin' mixed up in anythin' +like that, either--him bein' a J. P." + +Slavin looked at Yorke. "Let's have a luk at that gun av Moran's!" he +remarked. "Fwhat is ut?" + +Yorke handed the weapon over. "'Smith and Wesson' single-action," he +said. "Just that one round gone." + +"Nothin doin' agin'," muttered Slavin disappointedly. He broke the gun +and, ejecting the shells put all in his pocket. He then turned to Moran. +"D----d good job for yu'--havin' this alibi, Mister Windy!" he growled, +"don't seem anythin' on yu' over this killin'--as yet! But yez are goin' +tu get ut fwhere th' bottle got th' cork for this other bizness, me man!" + +And he proceeded to formally charge and warn his prisoner. + +"Give us a room, Brophy!" he said, "a big wan for th' bunch av us--an' +lave a shake-down on th' flure for this feller!" + +Preceded by the landlord the trio departed upstairs, escorting their +prisoner. Alone in the room they discussed matters in lowered tones; +Slavin and Yorke not forgetting to compliment Redmond on his presence of +mind--or, as the sergeant put it: "Divartin' his attenshun." + +The big Irishman scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I must go wire th' +O.C. report av all this. Sind Gully comes back on th' same thrain wid +Inspector Kilbride to-morrow. Thin we can go ahead--wid two J.P.s tu +handle things. Yuh take charge av Mr. Man, Ridmond! Me an' Yorke will +go an' eat now, an' relieve yuh later." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + "The Court is prepared, the Lawyers are met, + The Judges all ranged, a terrible show!" + As Captain Macheath says,--and when one's arraigned, + The sight's as unpleasant a one as I know. + THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS. + + +"Orrrdher in Coort!" rang out Sergeant Slavin's abrupt command. It was +about ten o'clock the following morning. The hotel parlour had been +hastily transformed into a temporary court-room. A large square table +had been drawn to one end of the room and two easy chairs placed +conveniently behind it. Fronting it was a long bench, designed for the +prisoner and escort. In the immediate rear were arranged a few rows of +chairs, to accommodate the witnesses and spectators. + +The sergeant's order, prompted by the entrance of the two Justices of the +Peace, was the occasion of all present rising to attention, in customary +deference to police-court rules. One of the newcomers, dressed in the +neat blue-serge uniform of an inspector of the Force, was familiar to +Redmond as Inspector Kilbride, who had been recently transferred to L +Division from a northern district. He had close-cropped gray hair and a +clipped, grizzled moustache. Though apparently nearing middle-age he +still possessed the slim, wiry, active figure of a man long inured to the +saddle. + +The appearance of his judicial confrere fairly startled George. He was a +huge fellow, fully as tall and as heavy a man as Slavin, though not so +compactly-built or erect as the latter. Still, his wide, loosely-hung, +slightly bowed shoulders suggested vast strength, and his leisurely +though active movements indicated absolute muscular control. But it was +the strangely sombre, mask-like face which excited Redmond's interest +most. Beneath the broad, prominent brow of a thinker a pair of deep-set, +shadowy dark eyes peered forth, with the lifeless, unwinking stare of an +owl. Between them jutted a large, bony beak of a nose, with finely-cut +nostrils. The pitiless set of the powerful jaw was only partially +concealed by an enormous drooping moustache, the latter reddish in colour +and streaked with gray, like his thinning, carefully brushed hair. His +age was hard to determine. Somewhere around forty-five, George decided, +as he regarded with covert interest Ruthven Gully, Esq., +gentleman-rancher and Justice of the Peace for the district. + +The two Justices took their places with magisterial decorum, the +witnesses seated themselves again, and, all being ready, the sergeant +opened the court with its time-honoured formula. + +The inspector glanced over the various "informations" and handed them +over to his confrere for perusal. A brief whispered colloquy ensued +between them, and then the local justice settled himself back in his +chair, chin in hand. Inspector Kilbride addressed the prisoner who had +remained standing between Yorke and Redmond, and in a clear, passionless +voice proceeded to read out the several charges. + +"Do you wish to ask for a remand, Moran?" he enquired, "to enable you to +procure counsel?" + +"No, sir!" Moran's sullen, insolent eyes suddenly encountering a +dangerous, steely glare from Kilbride's gray orbs he wilted and +immediately dropped his belligerent attitude. "No use me hirin' a +mouthpiece," he added, "as I'm a-goin' t' plead guilty t' all them +charges." + +"Ah!" The inspector thoughtfully conned over the "informations" once +more. "Sergeant Slavin," said he presently, "what are the particulars of +this man's disorderly conduct?" + +He listened awhile to the sergeant's evidence, occasionally asking a +question or two, but Mr. Gully remained in the same silent, brooding, +inscrutable attitude which he had adopted at the commencement of the +proceedings. Though apparently listening keenly, his shadowy eyes +betrayed no interest whatever in the case. + +Of that face Yorke had once remarked to Slavin: "That beggar's mug fairly +haunts me sometimes. . . . He's a good fellow, Gully,--but, you +know--when he gets that brooding look on his face . . . he's the living +personification of a western Eugene Aram." + +And Slavin, engaged in shredding a pipeful of tobacco had mumbled +absently "So?--Ujin Airum!--I du not mind th' ould shtiff--fwhat was his +reg'minthal number?" + +The sergeant finished his evidence; Kilbride swung round to his +fellow-justice once more and they held a whispered consultation, the +latter making emphatic gestures throughout the colloquy. This ending the +inspector turned to the prisoner. + +"You have pleaded guilty to each of these charges. Have you anything to +say?--any explanation to offer for your reckless, disorderly conduct?" + +The prisoner swallowed nervously and shuffled with his feet. "Guess I +was drunk," he said finally, "didn't know what I was doin'." + +The inspector's grey eyes glittered coldly. "So?" he drawled ironically, +"the sergeant's evidence is to the contrary. It would appear that you +were not so very drunk. You were neither staggering nor incapable at the +time. It was merely a rehearsal of a cheap bit of dime novel sort of +bar-room, rough-house black-guardism that no doubt in various other +places you have got away with and emerged the swaggering hero. Where do +you come from? Whom are you working for now?" + +"Havre, Montana. I'm ridin' fur th' North-West Cattle Company." + +"Ah! well, let me tell you that sort of stuff doesn't go over on this +side, my man." He considered a moment and picked up a Criminal Code. +"In view of your pleading guilty to these charges, and therefore not +wasting the time of this court unnecessarily, I propose dealing with you +in more lenient fashion than you deserve. For being unlawfully in +possession of firearms you are fined twenty dollars and costs. For +'pointing fire-arms,' fifty dollars and costs. On the charge of +'resisting the police in the execution of their duty' you are sentenced +to six months imprisonment with hard labour in the Mounted Police +Guard-room at Calgary. You are also required to make restitution for all +damage caused as the result of your fracas." + +Moran squirmed and mumbled: "If I've got t' do time on the one charge I +might as well do it on th' rest, an' save th' money fur t' pay fur th' +damage." + +"Very good!" agreed the inspector coldly. He bent again to his confrere +and they conferred awhile. Then he turned to the prisoner. "Thirty days +hard labour then--on each of the first two charges--sentences to run +concurrently." He paused a space, resuming sternly: "And let me tell you +this, Moran: in view of certain wild threats uttered by you in public you +have narrowly escaped being charged with the greatest of all crimes. It +is indeed a fortunate thing for you that you have been able to produce a +reliable alibi. All right, Sergeant! you can close the court. Make out +that warrant of commitment and I and Mr. Gully will sign it later. We're +going over to see the coroner." + +The two Justices arose and passed out, the few witnesses and onlookers +drifting aimlessly in their wake. Slavin lowered himself ponderously +into the chair just vacated by the inspector, lit his pipe, and, +whistling softly, commenced to fill out a legal form. Yorke and Redmond +also took the opportunity to indulge in a quiet smoke as they chatted +together in low tones. The former good-naturedly tossed a cigarette over +to the prisoner, with the remark: "Have a smoke, Windy--it's the last +you'll get for some time." + +Moran, slumped in a tipped-back chair, blew a whiff of smoke from a +lop-sided mouth. "Six months!" chanted he lugubriously, "an' they call +this a free country!--free hell!-- + + "_Oh, bury me out on th' lone prair-ee, + Where th' wild ki-oot'll howl over me,--_ + +"--might as well an' ha' done with it!" + +They all laughed unsympathetically. "'Tis mighty lucky for yuh thim +sintences run concurrently instid av consecutively," was the sergeant's +rejoinder, "or ut'd be eight months yez ud be doin' stid av six." + +The front legs of Moran's chair suddenly hit the floor with a crash. +"Lookit here, boys," he said earnestly, "that ther big mag'strate--him as +you call Gully--is that his real name? Wher does he come from? What +countryman is he?" + +"English!" answered Yorke shortly. "Why? D'ye think an Englishman has +to run around with a blooming alias?" + +"Well, now, yu' needn't go t' git huffy with a man!" expostulated Moran, +with an injured air. "Th' reason I'm askin' yu' is this": He paused +impressively, with puckered, thoughtful eyes. "That same man--if it +ain't him--is th' dead spit of a man as once hit ---- County, in Montana +'bout ten years back. Dep'ty Sheriff--I can't mind his name now. It was +a hell of a tough county that--then. Th' devil himself 'ud ha' bin +scairt t' start up in bizness ther." He shook his head slowly. "But I +tell yu'--when Mr. Man let up with his fancy shootin' it was th' +peaceablest place in th' Union. Th' rough stuff'd drifted--what was left +above ground. He dragged it too, later. I never heered wher he went." + +"Ah!" remarked Slavin pityingly, knocking out his pipe. "Th' few shots +av hootch ye had tu throw inta yu' last night tu get ye're Dutch up must +be makin' ye see double, me man. If th' rough stuff he run inta there +was on'y th' loikes av yersilf he must have shtruck a soft snap." He +arose. "Put th' stringers on him agin, Ridmond, an' take um upstairs an' +lock um up! Yu'll be escort wid um tu Calgary whin th' East-bound comes +in--an' see here, look! . . . I want ye tu be back here agin as soon as +iver ye can make ut back. Tchkk!" he clucked fretfully, "I wish this +autopsy an' inquest was thru', so's we cud git down tu bizness. Phew! +this dive's stuffy--let's beat ut out a bit!" + +Standing on the sidewalk they gazed casually at the slowly approaching +figures of Inspector Kilbride and Mr. Gully. The two latter appeared to +be engaged in a vehement, though guarded conversation--stopping every now +and again, as if to debate a point. + +"Here cometh Moran's 'dep'ty sheriff,'" was Yorke's facetious comment. + +"By gum, though!" Redmond ejaculated, "the beggar would make a good stage +marshal, wouldn't he? . . . with that Bret Harte, forty-niner's moustache +and undertaker's mug, and top-boots and all, what?" + +"And a glittering star badge," supplemented Yorke dramatically, "don't +forget that! and two murderous-looking guns slanted across his hips and--" + +"Arrah, thin! shut up, Yorkey!" hissed the sergeant in a warning aside, +"they'll hear yez. Here they come." + +Presently the five were grouped together. Inspector Kilbride's stern +features were set in a thoughtful, lowering scowl. Mr. Gully's tanned, +leathery countenance looked curiously mottled. + +"Sergeant!" The inspector clicked off his words sharply. "This is a bad +case. We've just been viewing the body--Mr. Gully and I." With +mechanical caution he glanced swiftly round. "Let's get inside and go +over things again," he added. + +Seated in the privacy of the hotel parlour the crime was discussed from +every angle with callous, professional interest. Kilbride and Slavin did +most of the talking, though occasionally Gully interpolated with question +and comment. He possessed a deep, booming bass voice well-suited to his +vast frame. His speech, despite a slightly languid drawl, was +unquestionably that of an educated Englishman. Yorke and Redmond +maintained a respectful silence in the presence of their officer, except +to answer promptly and quietly any questions put directly to them. + +Personal revenge they decided eventually could be the only motive. +Robbery was out of the question, as the personal belongings of the dead +man had been found to be intact, including a valuable diamond ring, about +a hundred and fifty dollars in bills, and his watch, papers, etc. A +jovial, light-hearted young rancher, hailing originally from the Old +Country, a bachelor of more or less convivial habits, he had enjoyed the +hearty good-will of the country-side, incurring the enmity of no one, +with the exception of Moran, as far as they knew. The latter's alibi +having established his innocence beyond doubt, no definite clues were +forthcoming as yet, beyond the foot-prints, the horse, and the "Luger" +shell. Moran, too, they ascertained had ridden in alone, and was not in +the habit of chumming with anyone in particular. Slavin had prepared a +list of all known out-going and incoming individuals on and about the +date of the crime. This was carefully conned over. All were, without +exception, well-known respectable ranchers, and citizens of Cow Run, to +whom no suspicion could be attached. + +"No!" commented the inspector wearily, at length. "In my opinion this +has been done by someone living right here in this burg--a man whom we +could go and put our hands on this very minute--if we only had something +to work on. You'll see . . . it'll turn out to be that later. Just +about the last man you'd suspect, either. Cases like this--where the +individual has nerve enough to stay right on the job and go about his +business as usual--are often the hardest nuts to crack. You remember +that Huggard case, Sergeant?" + +Many years previous he and Slavin had been non-coms together in the +Yukon, and other divisions of the Force, and now, delving back into their +memories of crime and criminals, they cited many old and grim cases, more +or less similar to the one in hand. Yorke and Redmond listened eagerly +to their narration, but Gully betrayed only a sort of taciturn interest. +If he had any experiences of his own, he apparently did not consider it +worth while to contribute them just then; though to Slavin and Yorke he +was known to be a man who had travelled far and wide. + +"Ah!" remarked the inspector, a trifle bitterly. "If only some of these +smart individuals who write fool detective stories, with their utterly +impracticable methods, theories, and deductions, were to climb out of +their arm-chairs and tackle the real thing--had to do it for their +living--they'd make a pretty ghastly mess of things I'm thinking. It all +looks so mighty easy--in a book. You can see exactly how the thing +happened, put your hand on the man who did it, and all that, right from +the start. And you begin to wonder, pityingly, why the police were such +fools as Dot to have seen through everything right away." + +He paused a moment, continuing: "This is a law-abiding country. Crimes +like this are exceptional. We're bound to get to the bottom of this +sooner or later. When we do--there'll be quite a lot of things crop up +in our minds that we'll be wondering we never thought of before. Let me +have another look at that paper imprint of that over-shoe, Sergeant!" + +Silently, Slavin handed it over. Kilbride scrutinized it carefully, and +again went over all notes and figures connected with the crime. "Must +have been a tall man--possibly six feet, or over, from the length of the +stride," he muttered, "and heavy, from the depth of the imprint." He +noted the distance from the big boulder to where the body had first +fallen. "Gad! what shooting! . . . The man must have been a holy +fright with a revolver--to have confidence in himself to be able to kill +at that range. I've never known anything like it. Well! . . . One sure +thing"--he laughed grimly--"you can't go searching every decent citizen +here for a Luger gun, or demanding to measure his feet--without +reasonable suspicion. Why! It might be you, Sergeant--or Mr. Gully, +here . . . you're both big men. . . ." + +Long afterwards, well they remembered the inspector's random jest--how +Gully, with one hand slid into his breast, and the other dragging at his +great drooping moustache (mannerisms of his) had joined in the general +laugh with his hollow, guttural "Ha! ha!" + +The inspector's levity suddenly vanished. "That old fool of a +livery-stable keeper, Lee, or whatever his name is . . . if only he, or +someone had been around when the horse was brought back that night! +D----n it! there must have been somebody around, surely. That's what +this case hinges on." + +He looked at his watch. "Well! Work on that--to your utmost, Sergeant. +Stay right with it until you get that evidence. You'll drop onto your +man sooner or later, I know. That train should be in soon, now. I'll +have to get back. The Commissioner's due from Regina, sometime today, +and I've got to be on hand. Wire the finding of the inquest as soon as +it's over, and send in a full crime-report of everything!" + +He glanced casually at the bruised faces of Yorke and Redmond. "You men +must have had quite a tussle with that fellow, Moran!" he remarked +whimsically. "You seem to have come off the best, Sergeant. You're not +marked at all." + +"Some tussle all right, Sorr!" agreed that worthy evenly, his tongue in +his cheek. "Yu' go git yu're prisoner, Ridmond, an' be ready whin that +thrain comes in. Come back on the next way-freight west, if there's wan +behfure th' passenger. We'll need yez." + +Gully murmured some hospitable suggestion to Kilbride, and the two +gentlemen strolled into the wrecked bar. The train presently arrived and +departed eastwards, bearing on it the inspector, Redmond, and his +prisoner. + +"Strange thing," the officer had remarked musingly to Slavin, just prior +to his departure, "I seem to know that man Gully's face, but somehow I +can't place him. He introduced himself to me on the train coming up. Of +course I'm familiar with his name, as the J.P. here, but I can't recall +ever meeting him before." + +Sometime later, Slavin and Yorke, who had just returned from the gruesome +autopsy and were busily making arrangements for the afternoon's inquest, +heard a loud, cackling commotion out in the main street. They +immediately stepped outside the hotel to see what was the matter. + +Advancing towards them, and puffing with exertion and importance, they +beheld Nick Lee, haling along at arm's length an unkempt individual whom +they judged to be the hobo who had disturbed his peace of mind. A small +retinue of dirty urchins, jeering loafers, and barking dogs brought up +the rear. The village "Dogberry" drew nigh with his victim and halted, +as empurpled as probably the elder Weller was, after ducking Mr. Stiggins +in the horse-trough. + +"Sarjint!" he panted triumphantly "I did clim up that ther ladder! I did +git thru' th' trap-door! . . . an'--I did ketch that feller!" Suddenly +his jaw dropped, and he wilted like a pricked bladder. "Why! what's +up?" he queried with a crestfallen air, as he beheld Slavin's angry, +worried countenance. + +"Damnation!" muttered the latter softly and savagely to Yorke. "This +means another thrip tu Calgary--wid this 'bo'--an' me not able tu shpare +ye just now. Fwhat wid all this other bizness I'd forgotten all 'bout +him. An' we'd vagged him sooner Ridmond might have taken th' tu av thim +down tugither. Da----." The oath died on his lips and he remained +staring at the hobo as a sudden thought struck him. His gaze flickered +to Yorke's face, and his subordinate nodded comprehensively. + +Slavin beckoned to Lee. "Take um inside the hotel parlour, Nick," he +ordered, "fwhere we hild coort this mornin.' Yorkey, yu' go an' hunt up +Mr. Gully. I don't think he's pulled out yet, has he, Nick?" He spoke +now with a certain grim eagerness. + +The livery-man made a gesture in the negative, and Yorke departed upon +his quest. Slavin ushered Lee and the hobo into the room. To the +sergeant's surprise he beheld the justice sitting at the table writing. +He concluded that that gentleman must have just stepped in from the rear +entrance of the hotel, or the bar, during his own and Yorke's temporary +absence. + +At the entrance of the trio Gully raised his head and, with the pen +poised in his fingers, sat perfectly motionless, staring at them +strangely out of his shadowy eyes. His face seemed transformed into a +blank, expressionless mask. The sergeant leaned over the table and spoke +to him in a rapid aside. + +"Ah!" murmured Mr. Gully, and he remained for a space in deep thought. +"Sergeant," he began presently, "I'll have to be pulling out soon. +Before we start in with this man . . . will you kindly step down to +Doctor Cox's with these papers and ask him to sign them?" + +It seemed an ordinary request. Slavin complied. + +Returning some ten or fifteen minutes later he noticed Lee was absent. +The magistrate answered his query. "Sent him round to throw the harness +on my team," he drawled, as he pored over a Criminal Code, "he'll be back +in a moment--ah! here he is." And just then the latter entered, along +with Yorke. The hobo was sitting slumped in a chair, as Slavin had left +him. With one accord they all centred their gaze upon the unkempt +delinquent. Ragged and unwashed, he presented a decidedly unlovely +appearance, which was heightened by his stubble-coated visage showing +signs as of recent ill-usage. His age might have been anything between +thirty and forty. + +The sergeant, a huge, menacing figure of a man, stepped forward and +motioned to him to stand. "Now, see here; look, me man!" he said slowly +and distinctly, a sort of tense eagerness underlying his soft tones, +"behfure I shtart in charrgin' ye wid anythin' I'm goin' tu put a few +questions tu ye in front av this ginthleman"--he indicated the +justice--"He's a mag'strate, so ye'd best tell th' trute. Now--th' night +behfure last--betune say, nine an' twelve o'clock . . . fwhere was +ye?"--he paused--"Think harrd, an' come across wid th' straight goods." + +A tense silence succeeded. The hobo, the cynosure of a ring of watchful +expectant faces, mumbled indistinctly, "I was sleepin'--up in th' loft o' +th' livery-stable." + +"Did yeh--" Slavin eyed the man keenly--"did yeh see--or hear--any fella +take a harse out av th' shtable durin' that time?" + +Gully moved slightly. With the mannerism he affected, his left hand +dragging at his moustache and his right slid between the lapels of his +coat, he leaned forward and fixed his eyes full upon the hobo's battered +visage. + +Meeting that strange, compelling gaze the latter: stared back at him, his +face an ugly, expressionless mask. He shuffled with his feet. "Why, +yes!" he said finally, "I did heer a bunch o' fellers come in. They was +a-talkin' all excited-like 'bout a fight, or sumphin'. They was +a-hollerin', 'Beat it, Larry! beat it!' t' somewun, an' I heered some +feller say: 'All right! give us my ---- saddle!' an' then it sounded like +as if a horse was bein' taken out. I didn't heer no more after +that--went t' sleep. I 'member comin' down 'bout th' middle o' th' night +t' git a drink at th' trough. This feller come in then,"--he indicated +Lee. "He hollered sumphin' an' started in t' chase me . . . so I beat it +up inta th' loft agin'." He shivered. "'T'was cold up ther--I well-nigh +froze," he whined. + +The sergeant exhausted his no mean powers of exhortation. It was all in +vain. The hobo protested that he had neither seen nor heard anyone else +taking out, or bringing in, a horse during the night. + +Slavin finally ceased his efforts and glowered at the man in silent +impotence. "How come yez tu get th' face av yez bashed up so?" he +demanded. + +"Fell thru' one o' th' feed-holes up in th' loft," was the sulky response. + +"Fwhat name du ye thravel undher?" + +"Dick Drinkwater." + +"Eh?" the sergeant glanced critically at the red, bulbous nose. "Fwhat's +in a name?" he murmured. "Eyah! fwhat's in a name?" + +Glibly the tramp commenced an impassioned harangue, dwelling upon the +hardness of life in general, snuffling and whining after the manner of +his kind. How could a crippled-up man like him obtain work? He thrust +out a grimy right hand--minus two fingers. He had been a sawyer, he +averred. + +Slavin sniffed suspiciously. "Ye shtink av whiskey, fella!" he said +sharply. "That nose, yeh name, an' a hard-luck spiel du not go well +together. Fwhere did yu' get yu're dhrink?" + +The hobo was silent. "Come across," said Slavin sternly, "fwhere did ye +get ut?" + +"I had a bottle with me when I come off th' train," said the other, "ther +was a drop left in an' I had it just now." + +In the light of after events, well did Slavin and Yorke recall the +furtive appealing glance the hobo threw at Gully; well did they also +remember certain of Kilbride's words: "There'll be quite a lot of things +crop up in our minds that we'll be wondering we never thought of before." + +The justice cleared his throat. "Sergeant" came his guttural, booming +bass, "suppose!--suppose!" he reiterated suavely "on this occasion +we--er--temper justice with mercy--ha! ha!" His deep hollow laugh jarred +on their nerves most unpleasantly. "I need a man at my place just now," +he went on, "to buck wood and do a little odd choring around. Times are +rather hard just now, as this poor fellow says. If you insist--er--why, +of course I've no other option but to send him down . . . you understand? +I would not presume to dictate to you your duty. On the other hand . . . +if you are not specially anxious to press a charge of vagrancy against +this man I--er--am willing to give him a chance to obtain this work--that +he insists he is so anxious to find." + +Slavin's face cleared and he emitted a weary sigh of relief. "As you +will, yeh're Worship," he said. "T'will be helpin' me out, tu . . . yeh +undhershtand?" His meaning stare drew a comprehensive nod from Gully. +"I have not a man tu shpare for escort just now." + +He turned to the hobo. "Fwhat say yu', me man?" was his curt ultimatum, +"Fwhat say yu'--tu th' kindniss av his Worship? Will yeh go wurrk for +him? . . . Or be charged wid vagrancy?" + +The offer was accepted with alacrity. In the hobo's one uninjured optic +shone a momentary gleam of intelligence, as he continued to stare at +Gully, like a dog at its master. The gleam was reflected in a pair of +shadowy, deep-set eyes, unblinking as an owl's. + +Gully arose and looked at Lee. "All right then! you can hitch up my +team, Nick!" he said, and that rotund worthy waddled away on his mission. +"Come on, my man" he continued to the hobo, "we'll go round to the +stable." He turned to Slavin and Yorke, shedding his magisterial +deportment. "Well, good-bye, you fellows!" he said, with careless +bonhomie. He lowered his voice in an aside to Slavin. "Sergeant, I +trust I shall see, or hear from you again shortly. I would like to hear +the result of the inquest and--er--how you are progressing with the case." + +A few minutes later they heard the silvery jingle of his cutter's bells +gradually dying away in the distance. Slavin aroused himself from a +scowling, brooding reverie. "G----d d----n!" he spat out to Yorke, from +between clenched teeth, "ther' goes another forlorn hope. 'Tis no manner +av use worryin' tho'--let's go get that jury empannelled!" He uttered a +snorting chuckle as a thought seemed to strike him. "H-mm! Gully must +be getthin' tindher-hearthed! Th' last vag we had up behfure him he sint +um down for sixty days." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + _Take order now, Gehazi, + That no man talk aside + In secret with his judges + The while his case is tried, + Lest he should show them--reason + To keep a matter hid, + And subtly lead the questions + Away from what he did._ + KIPLING. + + +"Hullo!" quoth Constable Yorke facetiously, "behold one cometh, with +blood in her eye! Egad! Don't old gal Lee look mad? Like a wet hen. I +guess she's just off the train and Nick hasn't met her. There'll be +something doing when she lands home." + +It was about ten o'clock on the following morning. The three policemen +(Redmond had returned on a freight during the night) were standing +outside the small cottage, next the livery-stable, the abode of Nick Lee +and his spouse. After a casual inspection of their horses they were +debating as to possible suspects and their next course of action. +Yorke's remarks were directed at a stout, red-faced, middle-aged woman +who was just then approaching them. She looked flustered and angry and +was burdened down with parcels great and small. As she halted outside +the gate one of the packages slipped from her grasp and fell in the mud. +Unable to bend down, she gazed at it helplessly a moment. Yorke, +stepping forward promptly, picked up the parcel, wiped it and tucked it +under her huge arm. + +"Thank ye, Mister Yorke," she ejaculated gratefully, "'tis a gentleman ye +are," she glowered a moment at the cottage, "which is more'n I kin say +fur that mon o' mine, th' lazy good-fur-nothin', . . . leavin' me t' pack +all these things from th' train!" + +Like a tug drawing nigh to its mooring--and nearly as broad in the +beam--she came to anchor on the front steps and kicked savagely at the +door. A momentary glimpse they got of Nick Lee's face, in all its +rubicund helplessness, and then the door banged to. From an open window +soon emerged the sounds as of a domestic broil. + +"Talk av Home Rule, an' 'Th' Voice that breathed o'er Eden'," murmured +Slavin. "Blarney me sowl! just hark tu ut now?" + +From the cottage's interior came several high-pitched female squawks, +punctuated by the ominous sounds as of violent thumps being rained upon a +soft body, and suddenly the portal disgorged Lee--in erratic haste. His +hat presently followed. Dazedly awhile he surveyed the grinning trio of +witnesses to his discomfiture; then, picking up his battered head-piece +he crammed it down upon his bald cranium with a vicious, yet abject, +gesture. + +"Th' missis seems onwell this mornin'," he mumbled apologetically to +Slavin, "I take it yore not a married man, Sarjint?" + +"Eh?" ejaculated that worthy sharply, his levity gone on the instant. +"Who--me?" Blankly he regarded the miserable face of his interlocutor, +one huge paw of a hand softly and surreptitiously caressing its fellow, +"Nay--glory be! I am not." + +"Har!" shrilled the Voice, its owner, fat red arms akimbo, blocking up +the doorway, "Nick, me useless man! ye kin prate t' me 'bout arrestin' +hoboes. I tell ye right now--that hobo that was a-bummin' roun' here +t'other mornin's got nothin' on you fur sheer, blowed-in-th'-glass +laziness." + +"Fwhat?" Slavin violently contorting his grim face into a horrible +semblance of persuasive gallantry edged cautiously towards the irate +dame--much the same as a rough-rider will "So, ho, now!" and sidle up to +a bad horse. "Mishtress Lee," began he, in wheedling, dulcet tones, +"fwhat mornin' was that?" + +That lady, her capacious, matronly bosom heaving with emotion, eyed him +suspiciously a moment. "Eh?" she snapped. "Why th' mornin' after th' +night of racket between them two men at th' hotel. Th' feller come +bummin' roun' th' back-door fur a hand-out--all starved t' death--just +before I took th' train t' Calgary." She dabbed at the false-front of +red hair, which had become somewhat disarranged. "La, la!" she murmured, +"I'm all of a twitter!" + +"Some hand-out tu," remarked Slavin politely, "from th' face av um. . . . +Fwhat was ut ye handed him, Mishtress Lee, might I ask?--th' flat-iron or +th' rollin' pin?" + +"I did not!" the dame retorted indignantly. "I gave him a cup of coffee +an' sumphin' t' eat--he was that cold, poor feller--an' I arst him how +his face come t' be in such a state. He said sumphin 'bout it bein' so +cold up in th' loft he come down amongst th' horses 'bout midnight--t' +get warmed up. He said he was lyin' in one o' th' mangers asleep when a +feller brought a horse in--an' th' light woke him up an' when he went t' +climm outa th' manger th' horse got scared an' pulled back an' musta +stepped on this feller's foot--fur th' feller started swearin' at him an' +pulled him outa th' manger an' beat him up an'--" + +But Slavin had heard enough. With a most ungallant ejaculation he swung +on his heel and started towards the stable, beckoning hastily to Yorke +and Redmond to follow. + +"Yu hear that?" he burst out on them, with lowered, savage tones. "I +knew ut--I felt ut at th' toime--that shtinkin' rapparee av a hobo was +lyin'--whin he said he did not renumber a harse bein' brought back. We +must go get um--right-away!" His grim face wore a terribly ruthless +expression just then. "My God!" he groaned out from between clenched +teeth, "but I will put th' third degree tu um, an' make um come across +this toime! Saddle up, bhoys! while I go an' hitch up T an' B. +Damnation! I wish Gully's place was on the phone!" + +Some quarter of an hour later they were proceeding rapidly towards +Gully's ranch which lay some fifteen miles west of Cow Run, on the lower +or river trail. A cold wind had sprung up and the weather had turned +cloudy and dull, as if presaging snow, two iridescent "sun-dogs" +indicating a forthcoming drop in the temperature. + +Yorke and Redmond, riding in the cutter's wake, carried on a desultory. +Jerky conversation anent the many baffling aspects of the case in hand. +Gully's name came up. His strange personality was discussed by them from +every angle; impartially by Yorke--frankly antagonistically by Redmond. + +"Yes! he is a rum beggar, in a way," admitted Yorke, "not a bad sort of +duck, though, when you get to know him--when he's not in one of his +rotten, brooding fits. He sure gets 'Charley-on-his-back' sometimes. +Used to hit the booze pretty hard one time, they say. Tried the +'gold-cure'--then broke out again"--he lowered his voice at the huge, +bear-like back of the sergeant--"all same him. I don't know--somehow--it +always seems to leave em' cranky an' queer--that. Neither of 'em married +either--'baching it,' living alone, year after year, and all that, too." + +"Better for you--if you took the cure, too!" George flung at him +grinning rudely. He neck-reined Fox sharply and dodged a playful punch +from his comrade. "Yorkey, old cock, I'm goin' to break you from 'hard +stuff' to beer--if I have to pitch into you every day." + +"You're an insultin', bullyin' young beggar," remarked Yorke ruefully. +"I'll have to 'take shteps,' as Burke says, and discipline you a bit, +young fellow-me-lad! I don't wonder the old man pulled you in from +Gleichen. Come to think of it, why, you're the bright boy that they say +well-nigh started a mutiny down Regina! We heard a rumour about it up +here. Say, what was that mix-up, Reddy?" + +George chuckled vaingloriously. "All over old 'Laddie'," he said. +"'Member that white horse? I forget his regimental number, but he was +about twenty-five years old. You remember how they'd taught him to chuck +up his head and 'laugh'? I was grooming him at 'midday stables.' Old +Harry Hawker was the sergeant taking 'stables' that day. He was stalking +up and down the gangway, blind as a bat, with his crop under his arm, and +his glasses stuck on the end of his nose--peering, peering. Well, old +Laddie happened to stretch himself, as a horse will, you know, stuck out +his hind leg, and old Harry fell wallop over it and tore his +riding-pants, and just then I said 'Laugh, Laddie!' and he chucked his +old head up and wrinkled his lips back. Of course the fellows fairly +howled and Harry lost his temper and let in to poor old Laddie with his +crop. It made me mad when he started that and I guess I gave him some +lip about it. He 'pegged' me for Orderly-room right-away for +insubordination.' + +"I pleaded 'not guilty' and got away with it, too. Got all kinds of +witnesses--most of 'em only too d----d glad to be able to get back at +Harry for little things. Laddie was a proper pet of the Commissioner's. +He used to go into No. Four Stable and play with the old beggar and feed +him sugar nearly every day." + +Yorke laughed mischievously, and was silent awhile. "Gully's knocked +about a deuce of a lot," he resumed presently. "Now and again he'll open +up a bit and talk, but mostly he's as close as an oyster--and the way he +can drop that drawl and come out 'flat-footed' with the straight +turkey--why, it'd surprise you! You'd think he was an out and out +Westerner, born and bred. He's a mighty good man on a horse, and around +cattle--and with a lariat. I don't know where the beggar's picked it up. +He claims he's only been in this country five years. Talks mostly about +the Gold Coast, and Shanghai, and the Congo. A proper 'Bully Hayes' of a +man he was there, too, I'll bet! He never says much about the States, +though I did hear him talking to a Southerner once, and begad, it was +funny! You could hardly tell their accents apart. + +"Oh, he's not a bad chap to have for a J.P. It's mighty hard to get any +local man to accept a J.P.'s commission, anyway. They're most of 'em +scared of it getting them in bad with their neighbours. Gully--he +doesn't care a d----n for any of 'em, though. He'll sit on any case. +It's a good thing to have a man who's absolutely independent, like that. +I sure have known some spineless rotters. No, we might have a worse J.P. +than Gully." + +"Oh, I don't know," rejoined Redmond thoughtfully, "may be he's all +right, but, somehow . . . the man's a kind of 'Doctor Fell' to me--has +been--right from the first time I 'mugged' him. Chances are though, that +it's only one of those false impressions a fellow gets. What's up?" + +Yorke, shading his eyes from the cutting wind was staring ahead down the +long vista of trail. "Talk of the Devil!" he muttered, "why! here the +---- comes!" Aloud, he called out to Slavin. "Oh, Burke! here comes +Gully--riding like hell, I know that Silver horse of his." + +And, far-off as yet, but rapidly approaching them at a gallop, they +beheld a rider. + +"Sure is hittin' th' high spots," remarked the sergeant wonderingly, +"fwhat th' divil's up now?" + +Gradually the distance lessened between them and presently Gully, mounted +upon a splendid, powerfully-built gray, checked his furious pace and +reined in with an impatient jerk, a few lengths from the police team. +Redmond could not help noticing that Gully, for a heavy man, possessed a +singularly-perfect seat in the saddle, riding with the sure, free, +unconscious grace of an _habitué_ of the range. He was roughly dressed +now, in overalls, short sheepskin coat, and "chaps." + +He shouted a salutation to the trio, his usually immobile face +transformed into an expression of scowling anxiety. "Hullo!" he boomed, +his guttural bass sounding hoarse with passion, "You fellows didn't meet +that d----d hobo on the trail, I suppose? . . . I'm looking for him--in +the worst way!" + +He flung out of saddle and strode alongside the cutter. "About two hours +ago--'not more, I'll swear--I pulled out to take a ride around the +cattle--like I usually do, every day. I left the beggar busy enough, +bucking fire-wood. I wasn't away much over an hour, but when I got back +I found he'd drifted--couldn't locate him anywhere. + +"Then I remembered I'd left some money lying around--inside the drawer of +a bureau in my bedroom--'bout a hundred, I guess--in one of these +black-leather bill-folders. Sure enough, it's gone, too. Damnation!" + +He leaned up against the cutter and mopped his streaming forehead. "I +was a fool to ever attempt to help a man like that out," he concluded +bitterly. "It serves me right!" + +"Well," said Slavin, with an oath, "th' shtiff cannot have got far-away +in that toime. I want um as bad as yuh, Mr. Gully. We were on th' way +tu yu're place for um. See here; luk!" + +Gully heard him out and whistled softly at the conclusion of the +narrative. "Once collar this man, Sergeant," said he, "and--you've +practically got your case. Make him talk?"--the low, guttural laugh was +not good to hear--"Oh, yes! . . . I think between us we could accomplish +that all right! . . . Yes-s!" + +His voice died away in a murmur, a cruel glint flickered in his shadowy +eyes, and for a space he remained with folded arms and his head sunk in a +sort of brooding reverie. Suddenly, with an effort, he seemed to arouse +himself. "Oh, about that inquest, Sergeant," he queried casually, "what +was the jury's finding? I was forgetting all about that." + +"Eyah; on'y fwhat yuh might expect," replied the latter. "Death by +shootin', at th' hand av some person unknown. I wired headquarthers +right-away." He made a slightly impatient movement. "Well, we must get +busy, Mr. Gully; this shtiff connot be far away. Not bein' on th' +thrail, betune us an' yu', means he's either beat ut shtraight south from +yu're place an' over th' ice tu th' railway-thrack, or west a piece, an' +thin onto th' thrack. Yu'll niver find a hobo far away from th' line. +He'd niver go thrapsein' thru' th' snow tu th' high ground beyant. Yuh +cud shpot him plain for miles--doin' that--comin' along." + +"He's wearing old, worn-out boots," said Yorke, "got awful big feet, too, +I remember. Of course this trail's too beaten up from end to end to be +able to get a line on foot-prints. We might work slowly back to your +place, though, Mr. Gully, and keep a lookout for any place where he may +have struck south off the trail, as the Sergeant says." + +It seemed the only thing to do. The party moved leisurely forward, Gully +riding ahead of the cutter, Yorke and Redmond in its wake, as before, +well-spread out on either side of the well-worn trail. Here, the snow +was practically undisturbed, affording them every opportunity of +discovering fresh foot-prints debouching from the main trail. It was +rather exacting, monotonous work, necessitating cautious and leisurely +progress; but they stuck to it doggedly until sometime later they rounded +a bend in the river and came within sight of Gully's ranch, about a mile +distant. + +Presently that gentleman pulled up and swung out of saddle. "Half a +minute," he said, "my saddle's slipping! I want to tighten my cinch." + +The small cavalcade halted. Slavin's restless eyes roving over the +expanse of unbroken snow on his left hand, suddenly dilated, and he +uttered an eager exclamation, pointing downwards with outflung arm. + +"Ah," said he grimly, "here we are, I'm thinkin'!" And he clambered +hastily out of the cutter. + +Yorke and Redmond, dismounting swiftly, stepped forward with him and +examined minutely the unmistakably fresh imprints of large-sized feet +angling off from the trail towards the bank of the frozen river. + +"Hob-nailed boots!" ejaculated Yorke. "Guess that must be him, all +right, Mr. Gully?" + +The latter bent and scrutinized the imprints. "Sure must be," he +rejoined, with conviction. "A man walking out on the range is a +curiosity. I can't think how I could have missed them--coming along. +But I guess I was so mad, and in such a devil of a hurry I didn't notice +much. I made sure of catching up to him somewhere on the trail." + +Slavin beckoned to Redmond and, much to that young gentleman's chagrin, +bade him hold the lines of the restless team, while he (Slavin), along +with Yorke and Gully, started forwards trailing the footprints. Arriving +at the river's edge they slid down the bank and followed the tracks over +the snow-covered ice to the centre of the river. Here was open water for +some distance; the powerful current at this point keeping open a ten-foot +wide steaming fissure. The tracks hugged its edge to a point about four +hundred yards westward, where the fissure closed up again and enabled +them to cross to the opposite bank. Clambering up this their quest led +them across a long stretch of comparatively level ground to the fenced-in +railway-track. + +Ducking under the lower strand of wire they reached the line. At the +foot of the graded road-bed, Slavin, who was ahead, halted suddenly and +uttered an oath. Stooping down he picked up something and, turning round +to his companions exhibited his find. It was a small, black-leather +bill-folder--empty. + +Gully regarded his lost property with smouldering eyes, and he uttered a +ghastly imprecation. "Yes, that's it," he said simply, "beggar's boned +the bills and chucked this away for fear of incriminating evidence--in +case he was nabbed again, I suppose. The bills were mostly in fives and +tens--Standard Bank--I remember." + +They climbed up onto the track to determine whether the foot-prints +turned east or west; but further quest here proved useless, on account of +its being a snow-beaten section-hand trail. + +Slavin balked again, swore in fluent and horrible fashion. For a space +he remained in brooding thought, then he turned abruptly to his +companions. + +"Come on," he jerked out savagely, "let's get back." + +In silence they retraced their steps and eventually reached their horses. +Here the sergeant issued curt orders to his men. + +"'Tis onlikely th' shtiff can have got very far away--in th' toime Mr. +Gully tells us," he said, "an' he cannot shtay out in th' opin for long +this weather. Get yu're harses over th' ice, bhoys, an' make th' thrack. +Ye'll find an' openin' in th' fence somewheres. Thin shplit, an' hug th' +line--west, yu', Yorkey--as far as Coalmore--yu', Ridmond--back tu Cow +Run. Yez know fwhat tu du. Pass up nothin'--culverts, bridges, +section-huts--anywhere's th' shtiff may be hidin'. If yez du not dhrop +onto um betune thim tu places--shtay fwhere yez are an' search all +freights. 'Phone th' agent at Davidsburg if yez want tu get me. I'm +away from there now--to wire east an' west. Thin--I'm goin' tu ride +freight awhile, up an' down th' thrack. I can get Clem Wilson tu luk +afther T an' B. We must get this man, bhoys." + +"Look here, Sergeant," broke in Gully good-naturedly, "as this is partly +on my account I feel it's up to me to try and do what little I can do to +help you in this case. There's not much doing at the ranch just now, so, +if you've no objection, I'll put Silver along with your team and come +with you. As you say--we've simply got to get this fellow, somehow." + +"Thank ye, Mr. Gully," responded Slavin gratefully, "betune th' bunch av +us we shud nail th' shtiff all right." + +"Should!" agreed the magistrate, enigmatically, "'stiff's' the word for +him." He glanced up at the lowering sky. "Hullo! It's beginning to +snow again--you found those tracks just in time, Sergeant." + + +Six days elapsed. Six days of fruitless, monotonous work. The evening +of the seventh found the trio disconsolately reunited in their +detachment. Their quest had failed. Slavin, not sparing himself, had +worked Yorke and Redmond to the limits of their endurance, and they, +fully realizing the importance of their objective, had responded loyally. + +Gully, apparently betraying a keen interest in the case, had gone out of +his way to assist them--both on the railroad and in scouring the +country-side. They were absolutely and utterly played out, and their +nerves were jangled and snappy. No possible hiding-place had been +overlooked--yet the hobo--Dick Drinkwater--the one man who undoubtedly +held the key to the mysterious murder of Larry Blake--had disappeared as +completely as if the earth had swallowed him up. + +The horses cared for, and supper over, Yorke and Redmond lay back on +their cots and _blaguè'd_ each other wearily anent their mutual ill-luck. +Slavin, critically conning over a lengthy crime-report on the case that +he had prepared for headquarters, flung his composition on the table and +leant back dejectedly in his chair. + +"Hoboes?" quoth he, darkly, and tongue-clucked in dismal fashion. "Eyah! +I just fancy I can hear th' ould man dishcoursin' tu Kilbride av th' +merry, int'restin' ways an' habits av th' genus--hobo--whin he get's this +report av mine. . . . Like he did wan day whin he was doin' show-man +round th' cells wid a bunch av ould geezers av 'humanytaruns.' I mind I +was Actin' Provo' in charge av th' Gyard-room at th1 toime." + +He sighed deeply, folded up the report and thrust it into an official +envelope. "Well, bhoys," he concluded, "we have done all that men +can'--for th' toime bein' anyways." + +Yorke laughed somewhat mirthlessly and gazed dreamily up at his pictures. +"Sure have," he agreed languidly; "from now on, though, I guess we'll +just have to take a leaf out of Micawber's book--'wait for something to +turn up,' eh, Reddy, my old son?" + +There was no answer. That young worthy, utterly exhausted, had drifted +into the arms of Morpheus. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + _A jest's prosperity lies in the ear + Of him that hears it, never in the tongue + Of him that makes it._ + SHAKESPEARE. + + +Number Six, from the East, drew up at the small platform of Davidsburg +and presently steamed slowly on its way westward, minus three passengers. + +"Well, bhoys," said Sergeant Slavin to his henchmen, "here we are---back +tu th' land av our dhreams wanst more. Glory be! But I'm glad tu be +quit av that warrm, shtinkin' courthroom. Denis Ryan--th' ould rapparee, +he wint afther us harrd--in that last case. Eyah! But I thrimmed um in +th' finals. Wan Oirishman cannot put ut over another wan." + +He softly rubbed his huge hands together. "Five years! That'll tache +Mishter Joe Lawrence tu go shtickin' his brand on other people's cattle! +But--blarney me sowl! Ryan sure is a bad man tu run up agin when he's +actin' for th' defence." + +The trio had just returned from a Supreme Court sitting where they had +been handling their various cases. It was a gloriously sunny day in +June. A wet spring, succeeded by a spell of hot weather, had transformed +the range into a rolling expanse of green, over which meandered bunches +of horses and cattle, their sleek hides and well-rounded bodies +proclaiming abundant assimilation of nourishing pasture. + +To men who for the past week had of necessity been confined within the +stifling atmosphere of a crowded court-room, their present surroundings +appealed as especially restful and exhilarating. During their absence +their horses had been enjoying the luxury of a turn-out in the fenced +pasture at the rear of the detachment, where there was good feed and a +spring. + +The murder of Larry Blake the previous winter still remained a baffling +mystery. Locally it had proved, as such occurrences usually do, merely a +proverbial nine days wonder. Long since, in the stress and interest of +current events, it had faded more or less from the minds of all men, +excepting the Mounted Police, who, though saying little concerning it, +still kept keenly on the alert for any possible clue. Equally mystifying +was the uncanny disappearance of the hobo--Drinkwater. So far that +individual had succeeded in eluding apprehension, although minute +descriptions of him had been circulated broadcast to police agencies +throughout Canada and the United States. + +"Eyah!" Sergeant Slavin was wont to remark sagely: "'Tis an ould saying +bhoys--'Murdher will out'--we'll sure dhrop onto it sooner or lather, an' +thin belike we'll get th' surprise av our lives--for I firmly believe, as +Kilbride said--'t'will prove tu be some lokil man who had a grudge agin' +pore Larry for somethin' or another. So--just kape on quietly +watchin'--an' listh'nin, an' we'll nail that fella yet." + +Just now that worthy was surveying his subordinates with a care-free +smile of bonhomie. "Guess we'll dhrop inta th' shtore on our way up" +suggested he, "see'f there's any mail, an' have a yarn wid ould MacDavid." + +Half way up the long, winding, graded trail that led to the detachment, +the trio turned into another trail which traversed it at this point. +Following this for some few hundred yards westward they reached the +substantial abode of Morley MacDavid, who was, as his name suggested, the +hamlet's oldest settler and its original founder. + +His habitation--combining store, post-office, and ranch-house--was a +commodious frame dwelling, unpretentious in appearance but not wanting in +evidences of prosperity. Its rear presented the usual aspect of a ranch, +with huge, well-built barns and corrals. Although it was summer, many +wide stacks of hay and green oats, apparently left over from the previous +season, suggested that he was a cautious man with an eye to stock-feeding +during the winter months. To neglect of the precaution of putting up +sufficient feed to tide over the severe weather might be attributed most +of the annual ranching failures in the West. The MacDavid establishment +bore a well-ordered aspect, unlike many of the unthrifty, ramshackle +ranches, of his neighbours. The fencing was of the best, and there were +no signs of decay or dilapidation in any of the buildings. Dwarf pines +were planted about and a Morning Glory vine over-ran the house, giving +the place an air of restful domesticity. As they entered the store the +trio noticed a saddle-horse tied to the hitching-rail outside. + +They were greeted jovially by MacDavid himself. Lounging behind his +store-counter, with his back up against a slung pack of coyote skins, he +was listening in somewhat bored fashion to a talkative individual +opposite. He evidently hailed their arrival as a welcome diversion. In +personality, Morley MacDavid was an admirable type of the western +pioneer. A tall, slimly-built, but wiry, active man of fifty, or +thereabouts, with grizzled hair and moustache. Burnt out and totally +ruined three successive times in the past by the depredations of +marauding Indians, the fierce, indomitable energy of the broken man had +asserted itself and enabled him finally to triumph over all his +mischances. Aided in the struggle by his devoted wife, who throughout +the years had bravely faced all dangers and hardships with him, he had +eventually accumulated a hard-won fortune. In addition to the patronage +that he received from the local ranches, he conducted an extensive +business trading with the Indians from the big Reserve in the vicinity. +A man of essentially simple habits, through sentiment or ingrained +thriftiness, he disdained to abandon the routine and the scenes of his +former active life, although his bank-balance and his holdings in land +and stock probably exceeded that of many a more imposing city magnate. + +The newcomers, disposing themselves comfortably upon various sacked +commodities, proceeded to smoke and casually inspect the voluble +stranger. He was a tallish, well-built man nearing middle-age, with a +gray moustache, a thin beak of a nose, and a bleached-blue eyes. He was +dressed in an old tweed suit, obviously of English cut, a pair of +high-heeled, spurred riding-boots and a cowboy hat. Vouchsafing a brief +nod to the visitors he continued his conversation with MacDavid. + +"Ya-as," he was drawling, "one of the most extraordinary shots you ever +heard of, Morley! I was between the devil and the deep sea--properly. +There was the bear--rushing me at the double and there was the cougar +perched growling up on the rock behind me. I made one jump sideways and +let the bear have it--slap through the brain, and . . . that same shot, +sir, ricocheted up the face of the rock and killed the cougar--just as he +was in the act of springing! By George, y'know, it was one of the +swiftest things that ever happened!" + +A tense silence succeeded the conclusion of this thrilling narrative. + +MacDavid re-lit his pipe and puffed thoughtfully awhile. "Eyah," he +remarked reminiscently, "feller does run up against some swift +propositions now an' again. I mind one time I was headin' home from +Kananaskis, an' a bear jumped me from behind a fallen log. The lever of +me rifle jammed so, all I could do was to beat it--in a hurry--an' I sure +did hit th' high spots, you bet! It was in th' early spring an' th' snow +still lay pretty deep, but--I'd got a twenty yards start of that bear, +an' I finally beat him to it an' made my get-away." + +The stranger whistled incredulously. "Wha-a-tt!" he almost shouted, +"D'ye mean to tell me that bear got within twenty yards of you and +couldn't catch you? Why, man! It's incredible!" + +"Fact," replied MacDavid calmly, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, "It +was this way: It was near th' edge of th' bush where th' bear first +jumped me, an'--just as we hit th' open ground--one o' them warm Chinook +winds sprung up behind us, travellin' east. . . . + +"Man!" He paused impressively. "The way that wind started in to melt th' +snow was a corker--just like lard in a fryin'-pan. But--I just managed +to keep ahead of it an' while I had a good, hard surface of snow to run +on, the bear--why he was sloppin around in th' slush in my wake--couldn't +get a firm foothold, I guess. . . ." + +His keen blue orbs stared full into the bleached ones of his vis-à-vis. + +"I figure that there Chinook an' me an' th' bear must have been all +travellin' 'bout th' same line of speed--kind of swift. After a mile or +two of it, th' bear--he got fed up an' quit cold," he ended gravely. +"Why--what's your hurry, Fred?" + +But that individual, feebly raising both arms with a sort of hopeless +gesture, suddenly grabbed up his mail and beat a hasty retreat to his +horse. + +The hoof-beats died away and MacDavid turned to the grinning policemen. +"Fred Storey," he said, in answer to their looks of silent enquiry. +"Runs th' R.U. Ranch, out south here. Not a bad head, but"--he sighed +deeply--"he's such an ungodly liar. I can't resist gettin' back at him +now an' again--just for luck. He's up here on a visit--stayin' with th' +Sawyers." + +"H-mm!" ejaculated Yorke, "seems to me I've got a hazy recollection of +meeting up with that fellow before--somewhere. In a hotel in High River, +I think it was. Beggar was yarning about Cuba, I remember." + +"Bet it was hazy all right," was Redmond's sarcastic rejoiner, "like most +of your bar-room recollections, Yorkey." He gave vent to a snorting +chuckle. "That 'D'you know? Ya! ya!' accent of his reminds me of that +curate in 'The Private Secretary.' I saw it played to Toronto, once." + +At this juncture the door opened, and a trio of Indians padded softly +into the store with gaily-beaded, moccasined feet. Two elderly bucks and +a young squaw. The latter flashed a shy, roguish grin at the white men, +and then with the customary effacement of Indian women withdrew to the +rear of the store. Squatting down, all huddled-up in her blanket, she +peered at them with the incurious, but all-seeing stare of her tribe. +George got an impression of beady black eyes and a brown, rounded, +child-like face framed in a dazzling yellow kerchief. + +The two bucks, with a momentary gleam of welcome wrinkling their +ruthless, impassive features, exchanged a salutation with MacDavid in +guttural Cree, which language the latter spoke fluently. They were +clothed in the customary fashion of their tribe--with a sort of +blanket-capote garment reaching below the knee, their lower limbs swathed +in strips of blanket, wound puttee-wise. Battered old felt hats +comprised their head-gear, below which escaped two plaited pig-tails of +coarse, mane-like, black hair, the latter parted at the nape of the neck +and dangling forward down their broad chests. + +Slavin and Yorke hailed them familiarly. The elder buck rejoiced in the +sonorous title of "Minne-tronk-ske-wan," but divers convictions for +insobriety under the Indian Liquor Act, and the facetious tongue of +Yorke, had contorted this into the somewhat opprobrious nickname of "Many +Drunks." His companion was known as "Sun Dog." + +They now proceeded to shake hands all around. "How! Many Drunks!" +shouted Yorke. Pointing to Redmond, he added "oweski skemoganish" (new +policeman). With a ferocious grin, intended for an ingratiating smile of +welcome, Many Drunks advanced upon George, with outstretched hand. In a +rapid aside Yorke said: "Listen, Reddy, to what he says, he only knows +six or seven words of English, but he's as proud as Punch of 'em--always +likes to get 'em off on a stranger. Don't laugh!" + +Within a pace of Redmond that gentleman halted. "How!" he grunted, and, +pausing impressively drew himself up and tapped his inflated chest, +"Minne-tronk-ske-wan! . . . great man!--me--" + +And then Redmond nearly choked, as Many Drunks, with intense gravity, +proudly conferred upon himself the most objectionable title that exists +in four words of the English language--rounding that same off with a +majestic "Wah! wah!" + +Turning, George beheld himself the target of covert grins from the +others, who evidently were familiar with Many Drunks' linguistic +attainments. Sun Dog merely uttered "How! Shemoganish." He did not +profess ability to rise to the occasion like his companion. + +Yorke, who was evidently in one of his reckless, rollicking moods, +proceeded to make certain teasing overtures to Many Drunks. His +knowledge of Cree being nearly as limited as that worthy's knowledge of +English, he enlisted the aid of MacDavid as interpreter. The dialogue +that ensued was something as follows: + +"Tell him I'm fed up with the Force and am thinking seriously of going to +live on the reserve--_monial nayanok-a-weget_--turn 'squaw-man'--'take +the blanket.'" + +MacDavid translated swiftly, received the answer, and turned to Yorke. +"He says '_Aie-ha_! (yes) You make good squaw-man.'" + +"Ask him--if I do--if he'll _muskkatonamwat_ (trade) me the young lady +over in the corner there, for two bottles of _skutiawpwè_ (whiskey)." + +"He says '_Nemoyah_!' (no)--if he does that, you'll turn around and +_kojipyhôk_ (arrest) him for having liquor in his possession." + +"Tell him--_Nemoyah_! I won't." + +"He says _Aie-hat ekwecè_! (Yes, all right) you can have her. Says +she's his brother's wife's niece. But he says you must give him the two +bottles of _skutiawpwè_ first, though." + +The object of these frivolous negotiations had meanwhile covered her head +with the blanket, from the folds of which issued shrill giggles. Sun +Dog, who had been listening intently with hand scooped to ear (he was +somewhat deaf), now precipitated himself into the discussion. Violently +thrusting his elder companion aside he commenced to harangue MacDavid in +an excited voice and with vehement gestures of disapprobation of the +whole proceedings. The trader translated swiftly: + +"He says _Nemoyah_!--not to give the bottles to Many Drunks, as when he +gets full of _skutiawpwè_ he raises hell on th' reserve, an' there's no +livin' with him. Says he beats up his squaw an' starts in to scalp th' +dogs an' chickens." + +"Shtop ut!" bawled Slavin, "d'ju hear, Yorkey? . . . shtoolin' th' +nitchie on tu commit a felony an' th' like, thataways!" He sniffed +disgustedly. "_Skutiawpwè_ an' squaws! . . . blarney me sowl! but ye've a +quare idea av a josh. 'Tis a credit y'are tu th' Ould Counthry, an' no +error. I do not wondher ye left ut." + +"Sh-sh!" said that gentleman soothingly, "coarsely put, Burke! coarsely +put! . . . Say Wine and Women, guv'nor! Wine and Women! If you were in +India, Burke, they'd make you Bazaar-Sergeant--put you in charge of the +morals of the regiment. Both items are all right--always providing you +don't get a lady like Misthress Lee for a chaser. How'd you like to be +in Nick's shoes? What 'shteps' would you take?" + +Slavin stared at his tormentor, blankly, a moment. "Shteps?" he +ejaculated sharply, "fwhat shteps?" . . . He leant back with a fervent +sigh and softly rubbed his huge hands together. "Long wans, avick! . . . +eyah, d----d long wans, begorrah!" + +Many Drunks now realizing that he was merely the victim of a joke, +scowled in turn upon Yorke. Muttering something to MacDavid he backed up +against the wall and, squatting down, proceeded philosophically to fill +his pipe. + +"What's that he said?" queried Yorke of the interpreter, "I couldn't +catch it." + +The latter grinned. "He says--of all the white men he's ever met in his +time, Stamixotokon[1] and my self are the only ones he's ever known to +tell th' truth." + +"It's my belief the beggar'd flirt with Mrs. Lee, himself, if he only got +the chance" said Redmond laconically, "d'you recollect that day he picked +her parcel up for her--how nice she was to him?" + +"Eyah," said Slavin darkly, "I remimber ut! That man"--he darted an +accusing finger at Yorke--"wud thry tu come th' Don Jewan wid anything +wid a shkirrt on--from coast to coast. _Flirrt_? Yeh're tellin' th' +trute, bhoy, yeh're tellin' th' trute! He'd a-made a good undhershtudy +for ould Nobby Guy, down Regina." + +He settled himself comfortably and lit his pipe. "Eyah, th' good ould +days, th' good ould days!" he resumed reminiscently, between puffs, "Hark +now till I tell ye th' tale av ould Nobby!" + +"Is that the man they used to Josh about, down Regina?" enquired Redmond. +"Used to say 'I'm a man of few words'?" + +Slavin nodded affirmatively. "That's him, Sarjint in charrge av th' town +station he was--years back. This is--whin I was Corp'ril at +headquarthers. A foine big roosther av a man was Nobby, wid a mighty +pleasant way wid um--'specially wid th' ladies. Wan night--blarney me +sowl! Will I iver forghet ut? Nobby 'phones up th' Gyard-room +reporthin' th' Iroquois Hotel on fire, an' requestin' th' O.C. for a +shquad av men tu help fight ut, an' kape th' crowd back. So down we +wint, a bunch av us. It sure was a bad fire all right. No lives was +lost, but th' whole shebang was burnt tu th' ground. Kapin' th' crowd +back was our hardest job. Du fwhat we cud, we cud not make some av th' +silly fules kape back clear av th' danger-zone--wimmin an' all, bedad! + +"By and by, a section av the wall tumbles an' quite a bunch av people got +badly hurt--Nobby amongst thim. We dhragged thim out as quick as we cud +an' laid them forninst th' wall av a buildin' near-by--awaithin' some +stretcher-bearers. Nobby'd got his leg bruk, but he seemed chipper +enough an' chewed th' rag wid us awhile. Next tu him was a +wumman--cryin' something pitiful--she'd got her leg bruk, tu. Nobby +rised him up on his elbow an' lukked at her. + +"Now, 'tis powerful dhry wurrk, bhoys, fightin' fire, an' may be +Nobby--well, I cannot account for ut otherwise--him havin' th' nerve' tu +du' fwhat he did--onless p'raps 't'was just th' natch'ril +tindher-hearthedness av th' man--thryin' for tu comfort her. Afther that +wan luk tho', Nobby he 'comes tu th' halt,' so tu shpake, an' 'marks +time' awhile considherin'--for becod, she was a harrd-lukkin ould +case--long beyant mark av mouth. + +"Presintly, sez he: 'I'm a man av few wurrds!--'tis of then I have kissed +a _young_ wumman!'--an' he thwirls th' big buck moustache av um very +slow--'fwhy shud I not kiss an ould wan? . . .'--_an' he did_. . . . + +"That's how th' man's throuble shtarted. Brought ut all on umsilf. +Course at th' toime, fwhy! she slapped th' face av um an' called um all +manner av harrd names--but, all th' same! she must have liked ut, for +while they was convalescin' she was everlashtingly sendhin Nobby notes +an' flowers an' such like. But for all that Nobby wud have no thruck wid +her, for all she was a widder, well fixed--wid a house av her own an' +lashuns av money. Whin they was both out av hospital she was afther urn +again, an' du fwhat he cud he cud not shake that wumman. + +"Th' ind av ut was, Nobby reports sick, an' th' reg'minthal docthor, ould +'Knockemorf' Probyn, gives um th' wance over. He luks over some papers +an' sez he: 'A change an' a rist is fwhat yu' need, Sarjint Guy. There's +a dhraft leavin' next week for Herschell Island[2]--I think I will mark +yu up fur ut.' + +"'_Herschell Island_?' sez pore Nobby, an' wid that he let's out a howl. + +"'Tut, tut!' sez ould Knockemorf, who was wise tu th' man's throuble. +'Tis safer off there'll yu'll be, man, than here, I'm thinkin'.' + +"He was shtandin' by th' Gyard-room gate that day-week whin th' dhraft +marched out on their way tu enthrain--Nobby amongst thim. 'Good-bye, +Docthor!' he calls out, tears in th' eyes av um, ''Tis sendhin me tu me +grave y'are, God forgive yez!' + +"'Nonsince!' shouts Knockemorf. 'Say yeh prayers an' kape yeh bowils +opin, me man, an' ye will take no harrm!' + +"Some sind-off! well!--time wint on, an' wan day I gets a letther from me +ould friend, Ginger Johnson, who was stationed there tu, tellin' me all +th' news. Nobby, sez he, was doin' fine, fat as a hog, an' happy as a +coon in a melun patch. Wan day, sez he, a buck av th' name av Wampy +Jones comes a runnin' inta th' Post, wid th' face av a ghost an' th' hair +av um shtickin shtraight up. Said a Polar bear'd popped out forninst a +hummock an' chased um--like tu th' tale av Morley, here. Nobby, sez +Johnson, on'y grins at th' man, an' sez he: 'That's nothin'!' An' thin +he shtarts in tellin' thim all 'bout this widder at Regina." + + +[1] Note by Author--The late Colonel Macleod, who for many years was +Commissioner of the R.N.W.M. Police. He was greatly respected and +trusted by all the Indian tribes. + +[2] Note by Author--This island is in the Arctic Circle. The most +northerly post of the R.N.W.M. Police. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + Methought I heard a voice cry, + "Macbeth shall sleep no more!" + MACBETH + + +The sergeant's story evoked a general laugh from his hearers. He arose +and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. "Come on, bhoys!" said he. +"Let's beat ut. Morley here's a respectable married man--we've bin +demoralisin' him an' his store long enough, I'm thinkin'." + +Pocketing his packet of mail he and his subordinates stepped to the door, +MacDavid casually following them outside. Tethered to the hitching-post, +they noticed, were the team of scare-crow cayuses belonging to Sun Dog +and Many Drunks. + +"Poor beggars look as if a turn-out on the range wouldn't do them any +harm," remarked Redmond. + +The thud of hoof-beats suddenly fell upon their ears and, turning, they +beheld Gully on his gray horse loping past them, about twenty yards +distant. Apparently in a hurry, he merely waved to them and rode on, +heading in the direction of his ranch. And then occurred a startling, +sinister incident which no man there who witnessed it ever forgot. + +Suddenly, with the vicious instinct of Indian curs, three dogs which had +been sprawling in the shade of the dilapidated wagon-box sprang forward +simultaneously in a silent, savage dash at the horse's heels. The +nervous animal gave a violent jump, nearly unseating its rider, who +pitched forward onto the saddlehorn. + +They heard his angry, startled oath, and saw him jerk his steed up and +whirl about, then, quick as conjuring, came a darting movement of his +right hand between the lapels of his coat and a pistol-barrel gleamed in +the sun. + +The curs, by this time, were flying back to the shelter of the wagon-box, +but ere they reached it--crack! crack! crack! three shots rang out in +quick succession, and three lumps of quivering canine flesh sprawled +grotesquely on the prairie. + +The startled spectators stared aghast. Startled--for, though all of them +there were more or less trained shots, such swift, deadly gunmanship as +this was utterly beyond their imaginations. Gully had made no pretence +at aiming. With a snapping action of his wrist he had seemed to +literally fling the shots at the retreating dogs. It was the practised +whirl and flip of the finished gun-man. + +No less astounding was the uncanny legerdemain displayed in drawing from +and replacing the weapon in its place of concealment. The Indians, +attracted from the store by the sounds of shooting, began gabbling and +gesticulating affrightedly, but when MacDavid spoke to them sharply in +Cree they retreated inside again. + +Some distance away, glaring at the dead dogs, the justice sat in his +saddle, and from beneath his huge moustache he spat a volley of most +un-magisterial oaths, delivered in a snarling, nasal tone foreign to the +ears of his listeners. A minute or so he remained thus, then his baleful +eyes met the steady, meaning stare of the motionless quartette and his +face changed to a blank, irresolute expression. He made a motion of +urging his horse forward, then, checking it abruptly, he wheeled about, +loping away in his original direction. + +The trader was the first one to find his voice. "Well, my God!" he +ejaculated. "Did you ever see th' like o' that?" + +His companions remained curiously silent. "Gully!" he continued, with +vibrating voice, "whoever'd a-thought that that drawlin' English dude +could shoot like that? . . . Fred Storey should have been here. . . ." +Still getting no response to his remarks he glanced up wonderingly. The +three policemen were staring strangely at each other, and something in +their expression startled him. + +"Eh! Why! What's up?" he queried sharply. + +Then Slavin spoke grimly. "Let's go luk at thim dogs," was all he +vouchsafed. + +They stepped forward and inspected the carcasses critically. "Fifty +yards away, if he was a foot!" said Redmond, "and he dropped them in one! +two! three! . . ." + +"Slap through the head, too!" muttered Yorke. "Burke!"--he added +suddenly. Slavin met his eye with a steady, meaning stare; then, at +something he read in his subordinate's face, the sergeant's deep-set orbs +dilated strangely and he swung on his heel. + +"Aye!" he ejaculated with an oath "I was forghettin' thim--come bhoys! +let's go luk for thim. Shpread out, or we may miss the place." + +"Empty shells," explained Yorke to the others, "automatic ejection--you +remember, Reddy! We may find them." + +Keeping a short distance apart, they sauntered forward, trying to recall +the spot Gully had shot from. For awhile, with bent heads, they circled +slowly about each other, carefully scrutinizing the short turf. +Presently the trader uttered a low exclamation. "Here's th' place!" he +said, pointing downwards. The others joined him and they all gazed at +the cluster of deeply-indented hoof-marks, indicating where the horse had +propped and whirled about. + +"Aha!" said Redmond, suddenly. + +"Got ut?" queried Slavin. + +For answer George dropped a small discharged shell into the other's +outstretched palm. The sergeant made swift examination. A shocking +blasphemy escaped him, and for an instant he jerked back his arm as if to +fling the article away, then, recovering himself with an effort, he +handed it to Yorke, who peered in turn. + +The latter made a wry face. "Hell!" he ejaculated disgustedly, "it's a +'Savage' this--thirty-two at that!" He lowered his voice. "The other +was a thirty-eight Luger--what?" + +"Time an' agin," Slavin was declaiming in impotent rage and with upraised +fist,--"Time an' ag'in--have we shtruck a lead on this blasted case--on'y +tu find ut peter out agin. . . . Oh! how long, O Lord? how long? . . ." + +MacDavid stopped in turn. "Here's th' other two, Sarjint," he said. +Slavin dropped the shells into his pocket and for a space he remained in +deep thought. Then he turned to the trader. + +"Morley," he said quietly, "yu're not a talker, I know, +but--anyways! . . . I ask ye now . . . ye'll oblige me by shpakin' av +this tu no man--yet awhiles. . . . I have me raysons--onnershtand?" + +The eyes of the two men met, and question and answer were silently +exchanged in that one significant look. + +MacDavid nodded brief acquiescence to the others request. "Aye!" he +replied reflectively, "I think I do--now. . . ." + +The sergeant turned to his men. "Come on, bhoy!" he said. "Let's beat +ut home. I'm gettin' hungry." + +They bid the trader adieu, and trudged away in the direction of the +detachment. They had covered some quarter of a mile in silence when +Slavin, who was in the lead, suddenly halted and whirled on his +subordinates with a mirthless laugh. + +"Windy Moran, begod!" he burst out, "mind fwhat he said that day 'bout +Gully an' that dep'ty sheriff bizness? . . . not so----'Windy' afther +all, I'm thinkin', eh?" + +For some few seconds they stared at him, aghast. They had forgotten +Moran. + +"Say, Burke, though?" ejaculated Yorke incredulously. "Good God! somehow +the thing seems impossible . . . not the 'sheriff' business so much . . . +the other--Gully!--a J.P.--a man of his class and standing! . . . Why! +whatever motive--" + +"He may have two guns," broke in Redmond. + +"Eyah," agreed Slavin, grimly, "he may. . . . A Luger's a mighty +diff'runt kind av a gun tu other authomatics . . . an' th' man that shot +Larry Blake ain't likely tu be fule enough tu risk packin' ut around--for +a chance tu thrip um up some day." + +For awhile the trio cogitated in silence; each man striving desperately +to arrive at some logical solution to the extraordinary problem that now +faced them. + +"Bhoys!" said Slavin presently, "there's no doubt there is . . . +somethin' damnably wrong 'bout all this. But, all th' same, fact +remains, ye cannot shtart in makin' th' Force a laughin' stock by +charrgin' a man av Gully's position wid murdher--widout mighty shtrong +evidence tu back ut. An' sizin' things up--fwhat have we got, afther +all, . . . right now . . . tu shwear out a warrant on? . . . Nothin', +really, 'cept that he's shown us he's a bad man wid a gun! A damned bad +break that was, tho', an' I'll bet he's sorry for that same, tu. Mind +how he kept on thravellin', widout comin' back tu shpake wid us?" + +He shook his head slowly, in sinister fashion, and stared at their +troubled faces in turn. "See here; luk," he resumed solemnly, with +lowered voice, "honest tu God, in me own mind I du believe he is th' man +that done ut." He paused--"but provin' ut's a diff'runt matther. We +must foller this up an' get some shtronger evidence yet--behfure we make +th' break." + +Suddenly he uttered a hollow chuckle. "Kilbride!" he ejaculated. "Mind +his josh that day--'bout it might be me, or Gully?--an how Gully laughed, +tu, wid th' hand of um like this?" + +Napoleonic fashion he thrust his huge fist between the buttons of his +stable-jacket. + +"Yes, by gad!" said Yorke reflectively. "I sure do, now. And I'll bet +he had his right hand on his gun, too! Force of habit, I guess, if he's +an ex-deputy-sheriff. From what little he's dropped he's sure knocked +around some, I know. Hard to say where, and what the beggar hasn't been +in his time. This accounts for him being so blooming close about the +Western States. It's always struck me as being queer, that, because, +say, look at the slick way he rides and ropes! He's never picked that up +in five years over on this Side--and that's all he claims he's been in +Canada." + +"Besides" chimed in Redmond, eagerly, "that yarn of his about that hobo +swiping his dough, Sergeant! 'Frame-up,' p'raps, . . . gave it to him +and told him to beat it? . . ." + +"Aw, rot!" said Yorke, disgustedly. He sniffed, with his peculiar +mannerism, "that's dime-novel stuff, Red. D'ye think he'd be fool enough +to risk that, with the chances of the fellow being picked up any minute +and squealing on him?" He was silent a moment. "Rum thing, though," he +murmured, "the way that hobo did beat us to it." + +"'Some lokil man,' sez Kilbride," remarked Slavin musingly. "Just th' +last one ye'd think av suspectin'. An' Gully, begod, sittin' right +there! . . . talk 'bout nerve! . . ." + +"But, good heavens!" burst out Yorke. "Whoever would have suspected +him?" He laughed a trifle bitterly. "It's all very well for us to turn +round now and say 'what fools we've been,' and all that. If we'd have +been the smart, 'never-make-a-mistake' Alecks, like we're depicted in +books, why, of course we'd have 'deducted' this right-away, I suppose? +Oh, Ichabod! Ichabod! An Englishman, too, by gad! I'll forswear my +nationality." + +"Whatever could he have on Larry, though?" was Redmond's bewildered +query. "Say, that sure was a hell of a trick of his--using Windy's +horse--while the two of them were scrapping--trying to frame it up on +him!" + +"Eyah," soliliquised the sergeant sagely. "'Twill all come out in th' +wash. Whin cliver, edjucated knockabouts like Gully du go bad; begob, +they make th' very wurrst kind av criminals. They kin pass things off +wid th' high hand an' kape their nerve betther'n th' roughnecks--ivry +toime. + +"Think av that terribul murdherer, Deeming--an' thim tu +docthors--Pritchard an' Palmer, colludge men, all av thim. An' not on'y +men, but wimmin, tu. 'Member Mrs. Maybrick? All movin' in th' hoighth +av society!" + +He was silent a moment, then his face fell. "I must take a run inta th' +Post an' see th' O.C. 'bout this," he resumed. "Tis an exthornary case. +There's just a possibility we may be all wrong--jumphin' at conclusions +tu much. Th' ould man! . . . I think I can see th' face av um. He'll +shling his pen across th' Ord'ly-room. 'Damn th' man! Damn th' man!' +he'll cry. 'Go you now an' apprehend um on suspicion thin! Fwhy shud I +kape a dog an' du me own barkin'?' An' thin he'll think betther av ut an' +chunt 'Poppycock, all poppycock! . . . As you were, Sarjint'--an' thin +he'll call in Kilbride. Eh! fwhat yez laughin' at, yeh fules?" he +queried irritably. + +In spite of the gravity of the situation, the expression on their +superior's cadaverous face just then--its droll mixture of apprehension +and perplexity was more than Yorke and Redmond could stand. Awhile they +rocked up against each other--a trifle hysterically; it was the reaction +to nerves worked up to a pitch of intense excitement. + +"Yez gigglin' idjuts!" growled Slavin. "Come on, let's get home! No use +us shtandin here longer--gassin' like a bunch av ould washer-wimmin full +av gin an' throuble." + +In silence they trudged on to the detachment. "'Ome, sweet 'ome! be it +never so 'umble!" quoth Yorke, as they reached their destination, "Hullo! +who's this coming along?" Shading his eyes with his hand he gazed down +the trail. "Looks like Doctor Cox and Lanky." + +The trio stared at the approaching buckboard which contained two +occupants. "Sure is," said Redmond, "out to some case west of here, I +suppose." + +They hailed the physician cheerily, as presently he drew up to the +detachment. "Fwhere away, Docthor?" queried Slavin. "Will ye not shtop +an' take dinner wid us, yu' an' Lanky? 'Tis rarely we see yez in these +parts now." + +"Eh, sorry!" remarked that gentleman, climbing out of the rig and +stretching his cramped limbs, "got to get on to Horton's, though. One of +their children's sick. Thanks, all the same, Sergeant." Glancing round +at his teamster he continued in lowered tones, "There's a little matter +I'd like to speak to you fellows about." + +"Sure!" agreed Slavin, quickly. "Come inside thin, Docthor." + +The party entered the detachment and, seating themselves, gazed +enquiringly at their visitor. For a space he surveyed them reflectively, +a perturbed expression upon his usually genial countenance. His first +words startled them. + +"It's about your J.P., Mr. Gully," he began. "This incident, mind, is +closed absolutely--as far as he and I are concerned; but, under the +circumstances, which to say the least struck me as being mighty peculiar, +I--well! . . . I don't think it's any breach of medical etiquette on my +part telling you about it. + +"For some time past now I've been treating Gully for insomnia. Man first +came to me seemingly on the verge of a nervous breakdown through it. + +"I prescribed him some pretty strong opiates--strong as I dare--and for a +time he seemed to get relief. But a couple of days ago he came around +and--my God! . . . Say! if I hadn't known him for a man who drinks very +little I'd have sworn he was in the D.T.'s." + +The doctor's rotund figure stiffened slightly in his seat, and his genial +face hardened to a degree that was in itself a revelation to his +audience. Without any semblance of bravado he continued quietly, "I hope +I possess as much physical pluck as most men--I guess you fellows aren't +aware of it, but many years back I too wore the Queen's uniform--Surgeon +in the Navy. I served in that Alexandria affair, under Charlie Beresford. + +"Well, as I was saying, . . . Gully came into my surgery that day, +raving like a madman. He's a big, powerful devil, as you know. I'll +confess I was a bit dubious about him--watched him pretty close for a few +minutes, for he acted as if he might start running amok. 'I can't +sleep!' he kept yelling at me, 'I can't sleep, I tell you! . . . That +dope you're giving me's no good. . . . Christ Almighty! give me a shot +of cocaine, Cox, or morphine, and get me a supply of the stuff and a +needle, will you? I'll pay you any amount!' + +"Naturally, I refused, I'm not the man to go laying myself open to +anything like that. Well! Good God! The next minute the man came for +me like a lunatic--clutching out at me with those great hands of his and +with the most murderous expression on his face you can imagine. I backed +away to the medicine cabinet and caught hold of a pestle and told him I'd +brain him with it if he touched me. I threatened I'd lay an information +against him for assault, and that seemed to quiet him down. He began to +expostulate then, and eventually broke down and apologised to me--in the +most abject fashion. Begged me to overlook his loss of control, and all +that. Of course I let up on him then. A local scandal between two men +in our position wouldn't do at all. I gave him a d----d good calling +down, though, and finally advised him to go away somewhere for a complete +rest and change. But he wouldn't agree to that--seemed worried over his +ranch. Said he'd worked up a pretty good outfit and couldn't think of +leaving his stock in somebody else's hands at this time of the +year--couldn't afford it in fact. Anyway--that's his look-out. But, as +a matter of fact, if that man doesn't take my advice, why . . . he's +going to collapse. I know the symptoms only too well. That's the curse +of men living alone on these homesteads--brooding, and worrying their +heads off. It seems to get them all eventually in--" + +Breaking off abruptly he glanced at his watch. "Getting late!" he +ejaculated, jumping up, "I must be getting on to that case." + +"Docthor!" said Slavin, reflectively, "'tis a shtrange story ye've been +tellin' us. Ye'll be comin' back this way, I suppose--lather in th' day?" + +The physician nodded. + +"I'd like fur ye tu dhrop in agin, thin," continued the sergeant slowly, +"if ye have toime? There's a little matther I wud like tu dishcuss wid +yu'--'tis 'bout that same man." + +Doctor Cox glanced sharply at the speaker's earnest, sombre face. A +certain sinister earnestness underlay the simple words, and it startled +him. + +"Very good, Sergeant!" he agreed, "I'll call in on my way back. Well! +good-by, all of you, for the time being!" + +They followed him outside and watched the rig depart on its journey +westward. It was Redmond who broke the long silence. + +"Well, sacred Billy! What do you know about that?" he ejaculated tensely. + +And the trio turned and looked upon each other strangely, their faces +registering mutual wonderment and conviction. + +"Sleep?" murmured Yorke, "No, by gum! . . . no more could Macbeth, with +King Duncan and Banquo on his chest o' nights! . . . Well, that settles +it!" + +But Slavin made a gesture of dissent. "As you were, bhoys!" was his +sober mandate. "Sleeplishness's no actual proof . . . but it's a +pointer. Th' iron's getthin' warrm--eyah! d----d warrm! . . . but we +cannot shtrike yet." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + But a truce to this strain; for my soul it is sad, + To think that a heart in humanity clad + Should make, like the brutes, such a desolate end, + And depart from the light without leaving a friend. + Bear soft his bones over the stones! + Though a pauper, he's one whom his Maker yet owns! + "THE PAUPER'S DRIVE." + + +They ate dinner more or less in silence. Slavin had relapsed into one of +his fits of morose taciturnity. At the conclusion of the meal, Yorke and +Redmond drew a bench outside, and for awhile sat in the sun, smoking. + +"He's got 'Charley-on-his-back' properly to-day," remarked the +sophisticated Yorke, with a sidelong jerk of his head, "old beggar's best +left alone, begad! when he' get's those fits on him." He sniffed the +fresh air and gazed longingly out over the sunlit, peaceful landscape, +flooded with a warm, sleepy, golden haze of summer. "Lord! but it's a +peach of a day" he continued, "say, gossip mine, did you think to get +that fishing-tackle at Martin's this morning?" + +George nodded affirmatively. Yorke rose and stepped indoors. "Say, +Burke," he said persuasively, "there's not much doing this +afternoon--how's chances for me and Reddy going down to the Bend for a +bit? The water looks pretty good just now. You'll want to have a lone +chin with the Doctor, anyway, no use us sticking around." + +The sergeant, engrossed in a crime-report, acceded gruffly to the +request. "Run thim harses in first, tho'!" he flung after his +subordinate, "an' du not yu' men get tu far away down-shtream, in case I +might want yez." + +"That's 'Jake,'" was Redmond's comment, a moment later, "no use trying +fly-fishing to-day, though, Yorkey--too bright. We'd better fish deep. +Here, you get the rods all fixed up, and catch some grasshoppers, and +I'll chase out in the pasture and run the horses in." + +Some half an hour later found them trudging down the long slope below the +detachment that led to the nearest point of the Bow River. Here the +river described a sharp bend southward for some distance, ere resuming +its easterly course. Arriving thither, they fished for awhile in +blissful content; their minds for the time-being devoid of aught save the +sport of Old Izaak. Picking likely spots for deep casts, they meandered +slowly down-stream, keeping about twenty yards apart. At intervals, +their piscatorial efforts were rewarded with success. Four fine +"two-pounders" of the "Cut-Throat" species had fallen to Yorke's +rod--three to Redmond's. Then, for a time the fish ceased to bite. + +"Here!" said Yorke suddenly. "I'm getting fed up with this! I can't get +a touch. There's a big hole farther down, just up above Gully's place. +Let's try it! He and I pulled some good 'uns out of there, last year." + +Eventually they reached their objective. At this point the force of the +current had gradually, with the years, scooped out a large, semicircular +portion of the shelving bank. Also, a spit of gravel-bar, jutting far +out into the water, had stranded a small boom of logs and drift-wood; the +whole constituting a veritable breakwater that only a charge of dynamite +could have shifted. In the shelter of this and the hollowed-out bank, a +huge, slow eddy of water had formed, apparently of great depth. + +As Yorke had advertised it--it did look like a likely kind of a hole for +big trout. "You wouldn't think it," said he now, "but there's twenty +feet of water in that pot hole." He put down his rod and slowly began to +fill his pipe. "You can have first shot at it, Red," he remarked, "I'll +be the unselfish big brother. You ought to land a good 'un out of there. +Aha! what'd I tell you?" + +Redmond's gut "leader" had barely sunk below the surface when he felt the +thrilling, jarring strike of an unmistakably heavy fish. The tried, +splendid "green-heart" rod he was using described a pulsating arc under +the strain. He turned to Yorke gleefully. "By gum! old thing, I've sure +got one this time," he said, "bet you he's ten pound if he's an ounce. +Hope the line'll hold!" + +Simultaneously they uttered an excited exclamation, as a huge, silvery +body darted to the surface, threshed the water for the fraction of a +second, and then dived. + +"Look out!" cried Yorke. "Give him line, Red, give him line! Play him +careful now, or you'll lose him!" + +The reel screeched, as Redmond let the fish run. Then--without +warning--the line slacked and the rod straightened. George, giving vent +to a dismayed oath, reeled in until the line tautened again, and the +point of the rod dipped. + +"What's up?" queried Yorke, "he's still on, isn't he?" + +"Yes," growled Redmond miserably, "feels as if I'm snagged though. He's +there right enough--I can feel him jumping. Damnation! That's the worst +of stringing three hooks on your leader. One of 'em's snagged on +something below, I guess. Here! hold the rod a minute, Yorkey!" + +The latter complied. George unbuttoned and threw off his stable-jacket +and began taking off his boots. Yorke contemplated his comrade's actions +in speechless amazement. "Why, what the devil?--" he began-- + +"I'm not going to lose that fish," mumbled Redmond sulkily, as he threw +off his clothes, "I'll get him by gum! if I have to dive to the depths of +Hell." + +"Say, now! don't be a fool!" cried Yorke, "that water's like ice, man! +You'll get cramped, and then the two of us'll drown. We-ll, of all the +idiots!--" + +George, by this time stripped to the buff, crept gingerly to the edge of +the shelving bank. In his right hand he grasped--opened--a small +pen-knife. "Aw, quit it!" he retorted rudely, "I'll only be under a +minute--hold the line taut--straight up and down, Yorkey, so's I can see +where to dive." + +He drew a deep breath, and then, with the poise of a practised swimmer, +dived--cutting the water with barely a splash. For the space of a +half-minute Yorke stared apprehensively at the swirling eddy, beneath +which the other had vanished. The line still remained taut. Then he +gave a gasp of relief, as Redmond's head re-appeared, and that young +gentleman swam to the side. Extending a hand, the senior constable +lugged his comrade to terra firma. + +"That's good!" he ejaculated fervently. "D----n the fish, anyway! I +guess you couldn't make--" He broke off abruptly, and remained staring +at the dripping George with startled eyes. The latter's face registered +unutterable horror, and he shook as with the ague. Speech seemed beyond +him. He could only mouth and point back to the gloomy depths whence he +had just emerged. + +"Here!" cried Yorke, with an oath, "whatever is the matter, Reddy? Man! +you look as if you'd seen a ghost!" + +Then his own face blanched, as the shivering George bubbled incoherently, +"B-b-body! b-b-body! My God, Yorkey! th-there's a s-s-stiff d-down +th-there! Ugh! I d-d-dived right onto it!" + +For a brief space they remained staring at each other; then, a strange +light of understanding broke over Yorke's face, and he made a snatch at +Redmond's clothes. "Come!" he jerked out briskly. "Get 'em on quick, +Red, else you'll catch your death of cold--never mind about drying +yourself--you can change when you get back." + +In shivering silence his comrade commenced to struggle into his +underclothes and "fatigue-slacks." Yorke snapped the line and reeled in +the slack. "Stiff!" he kept ejaculating "stiff! Yes, by gad! and I can +make a pretty good guess who that stiff is! . . . Burke'll have all the +evidence he wants--now. You beat it, Reddy, as soon as you're fit and +get him. A run'll warm you up. The grappling-irons are back of the +stable. And say! tell him to bring a good long rope. Lord, I hope +Doctor Cox hasn't left yet. I'll stay here, Reddy. Hurry up!" + + +An hour or so later, a morbidly expectant group gathered on the +river-bank. Redmond, luckily, had reached the detachment just prior to +the coroner's departure, and that gentleman now comprised one of a party. +Slavin had hitched his team to a cotton-wood clump nearby, and was now +busily rigging the double set of three-pronged grappling-irons. When all +was ready, he motioned to his companions to stand back, and then, with a +preliminary whirl or two, flung the irons into the pool, some distance +ahead of the spot indicated by Redmond. + +Slowly and ponderously he began the dragging recover, with the muscular +skill of a man long inured to the gruesome business. His first effort +was unsuccessful--weeds and refuse were all he salvaged. He tried again, +with the same result. Cast after cast proved futile. After the last +failure he turned and glowered morosely upon Redmond. + +"'Tis either dhrunk or dhramin' ye must be, bhoy! There's nothin' there. +I've a good mind," he added slowly "a d----d good mind tu shove ye undher +arrest for makin' a friv'lus report tu yeh superior!" + +Yorke now came to his comrade's rescue. "By gum, Burke," he flashed out +"if you'd seen his mug when he came up out of that hole you wouldn't have +thought there was anything frivolous about it, I can tell you!" + +Poor George voiced a vehement protest, in self defense. "Good God, +Sergeant!" he expostulated, "d'you think I'd come to you with a yarn like +that? I tell you it is there. Have another try. Sling farther over to +the right here!" + +Grumblingly, the latter complied, and began the slow recover. Suddenly, +the rope checked. Slavin strained a moment, then he turned around to the +expectant group. "Got ut'" he announced grimly. "I can tell by th' feel +av ut. Tail on tu th' rope there, all av yez! Now! Yeo! Heave ho!" + +Like a tug of war team they all bowed their backs and strained with all +their might; but their efforts proved futile. "Vast heavin!" said +Slavin, breathing heavily. "'Tis shtuck somehow--I will have tu get th' +team an' double-trees. Get a log off'n that breakwater, bhoys, so's th' +rope will not cut inta th' edge av th' bank." + +He crossed over to the horses. "Now!" said he, some minutes later, as he +backed up the team and made all fast to the double-trees. "Yu', Reddy, +an' Lanky, guide th' rope over th' log. Yu', Yorkey, get th' feel av ut, +an' give me th' wurrd. I du not want to break ut." + +Yorke leant over the edge of the bank, loosely feeling the rope. "All +right!" he announced. + +Slavin, edging his team cautiously forward, and taking the strain to +avoid a violent jerk, clucked to them. With a scramble, and a steady +heave of their powerful hind-quarters, they started. + +With bated breath the watchers gazed at the rope--creeping foot by foot +out of the discoloured water. + +"Keep a-going!" Yorke shouted to Slavin. "It's coming up, all right!" + +It came. Arising slowly and sullenly out of the depths they beheld a +horrible, dripping, shapeless something that eventually resolved itself +into a human body--clothed in torn rags and matted with river-refuse. + +Then, to the salvagers, came the most astounding and sinister revelation +of all. Startled oaths burst from them as they beheld now what had +retarded their first pull. Bound tightly to the body with rusted wire +was a huge, hand-squared block of stone. The sergeant's last and +successful cast had resulted in two prongs of the grappling-irons +catching in the enveloping wire. + +Slowly and cautiously the whole hideous bulk was finally drawn up the +shelving bank and over the log and onto dry ground. Yorke shouted, and +Slavin, checking the horses, detached the rope from the double-trees. +Handing the lines over to Lanky Jones he joined the others, who were +critically examining their gruesome catch. To their surprise, although +the features were unrecognisable, the corpse was not so decomposed as +they had first imagined, the ice-cold water having preserved it to a +certain extent. Still firmly hooked to the rags of clothing--a +ludicrously grim joke--was the huge jumping, gasping trout which Redmond +had struck and lost. + +Suddenly Yorke uttered a low exclamation. "Burke! Burke!" he said +tensely, "there you are! . . . Look at the right hand'" + +The eyes of all were centered on the grimy, stiffened, clawlike fist. +They saw that two of the fingers were missing. An exultant oath burst +from Slavin. "By G----!" he said, with grim conviction, "it's him all +right!--that pore hobo shtiff--Dick Drinkwater. Eyah! fwhat's in a name? +Fwhat's in a name?" He pointed to the grinning jaws. "Luk at th' gold +teeth av um, tu!" he added. + +The coroner was examining the almost fleshless skull. He gave a cry of +anger and dismay. "Good God!" he gasped. "Look here, all of you! . . . +This man's been shot through the head, too!" He indicated the small, +circular orifice in the occiput, and its egress below the left eye. + +"Only an exceedingly powerful, high-pressure weapon could have done +that," he continued significantly, "both holes are alike--bullet hasn't +'mushroomed' at all." + +"Eyah!" Slavin agreed wearily. "We know fwhat kind av a gun did ut. And +luk here!" he added savagely, pointing to the bare feet, "here's another +of Mr. Man's little jokes--no boots. If they'd have been lift on they'd +have shtuck tighter'n glue--in that water. Reddy was 'bout right, +Yorkey! Gully, d----n him! did frame us that day. Must have used thim +himsilf tu make thim thracks wid--early in th' mornin'--behfure he met up +wid us on th' thrail. Oh, blarney my sowl! Yes! Had us chasin' for a +whole silly week, all for--" + +He broke off abruptly, choking with rage. For awhile, in silence, the +party gazed at the pitiful, hideous monstrosity that had once been a man. +Then the ever-practical Redmond proceeded, with the aid of a large +pebble, to burst, strand by strand, the wire which bound the stone to the +body. + +"That stone, too!" said the doctor darkly. "Sergeant, in view of what +you've been telling me, there seems something very, very terrible about +all this. I suppose there's absolutely no doubt in your mind now, who--?" + +The Irishman jerked out a great oath. "Doubt!" echoed he grimly, "doubt! +So little doubt, Docthor," added he hoarsely, "that we go get 'um this +very night." + +"Alas, poor Yorick!" said Yorke sadly. "Say, Burke!" he continued in an +awe-struck voice "this is like a leaf out of O'Brien's book, with a +vengeance. You remember him, that cold-blooded devil who Pennycuik +nailed up in the Yukon--used to shoot 'em and shove their bodies under +the ice?" + +Slavin nodded gloomily. "At Tagish, ye mane? Yeah! I 'member ut. +Penny sure did some good wurrk on that case." + +Redmond had by this time completed his gruesome task. "There's lots of +these blocks lying around Gully's," he remarked, "I've seen 'em. Place's +got a stone foundation. Look at the notches he's chipped in this one--to +keep the wire from slipping!" + +"Eyah!" said Slavin, with grimly-unconscious humour, "Exhibit B. We must +hang on to ut, heavy as it us--an' th' wire, tu! Well, people, we'd +betther shove this pore shtiff on the buckboard, an' beat ut." He turned +to the doctor's laconic factotum. "Come on, Lanky!" he said briskly. +"Let's go hitch up." + +Presently, when all was ready, Slavin took the lines and the coroner +climbed up beside him. The rest of the party followed on foot. A +sombre, strange little procession it looked, as it moved slowly westward +into the dusky blaze of a blood-red sunset. In the hearts of the +policemen grim resolve was not unmixed with certain well-founded +forebodings, as they fully realized what a sinister, dangerous mission +lay ahead of them that night. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + 'Twas then--like tiger close beset + At every pass with toil and net, + 'Counter'd, where'er he turns his glare, + By clashing arms and torches' flare, + Who meditates, with furious bound, + To burst on hunter, horse, and hound,-- + 'Twas then that Bertram's soul arose, + Prompting to rush upon his foes. + SCOTT + + +The old detachment clock struck nine wheezy notes. Yorke and Redmond, +seated at a table busily engaged in cleaning their service revolvers, +glanced up at each other sombrely. + +"Getting near time," muttered the former, "the moon should be up soon +now. Lanky," he continued, addressing that individual who was sitting +nearby, "what are you and the Doctor going to do? Going back to Cow Run +tonight, or what?" + +"Don't think it," replied the teamster laconically. He glanced towards +the open door and assumed a listening attitude. "Th' Sarjint an' him's +out there now--chewin' th' rag 'bout it--hark to 'em!" + +Ceasing their cleaning operations for a space, the two constables +listened intently to the raised voices without. "No! no! no!" came +Slavin's soft brogue, in tones of vehement protest to something the +coroner had said, "I tell yu' 'tis not right, Docthor, that yu' shud run +such risk! Wid us 'tis diff'runt--takin' th' chances av life an' +death--just ord'nary course av juty. . . ." + +"Oh, tut! tut! nonsense, Sergeant," was the physician's brisk response. +"You forget. I've taken those same chances before, too, and, by Jove! I +can take 'em again! All things considered," he added significantly, +"seems to me--er--perhaps just as well I should be on hand." + +Yorke and Redmond exchanged rueful grins. "The old sport!" quoth the +latter admiringly. "Damme, but I must say the Doc's game!" + +"It's the old 'ex-service spirit'," said Yorke quietly, "rum thing! +Always seems to crop out, somehow, when there's real trouble on hand." + +Nonchalantly puffing a huge cigar, the object of their remarks presently +strolled back into the room, followed by the sergeant. "Behould th' +'last coort av appeal,' Docthor," began Slavin majestically. With a +whimsical grin he indicated his subordinates. "Bhoys," he explained, +"contrairy tu my wishes, th' Docthor insists on comin' wid us this night. +Now fwhat yez know 'bout that?" + +"Tried to shake me!" supplemented that gentleman tersely, waving his +cigar at the last speaker. "What's this court's ruling?" + +A stern smile flitted over Yorke's high-bred features. "Appeal +sustained," he announced decisively, "eh, Reddy?" + +For answer, his comrade arose and silently wrung the doctor's hand; then, +without show of emotion, he resumed his seat and likewise his cleaning +operations. Yorke, as silently, duplicated his comrade's actions. The +ex-Naval surgeon said nothing; but his eyes glistened strangely as he +dropped into an easy chair and proceeded to envelope himself in a cloud +of smoke, + +Suddenly the nasal voice of the teamster, Lanky Jones, made itself heard. +"How 'bout me?" he drawled, "ain't I in on this, too? I kin look after +th' hawsses, anyways, fur yeh!" + +"Arrah thin! hark tu um?" said Slavin, in mock despair. "Docthor, 'tis a +bad example ye're setting All right, thin, Lanky, ye shall come, an' ye +wish ut. An' as man tu man--I thank ye! We will all go a 'moonlightin' +tugither. Eyah!" he resumed reminiscently, "many's th' toime I mind me +ould father--God rist him!--tellin' th' tales av thim days, whin times +was harrd in Oireland, an' rints wint up an' th' pore was dhriven +well-nigh desprit. How him an' his blood-cousin, Tim Moriarty, lay wan +night for an' ould rapparee av a landlord, who'd evicted pore Tim out av +house an' home. Tim had an' ould blundherbuss, all loaded up wid bits av +nales an' screws an' such-like, wid a terribul big charrge av powther +behint ut. Four solid hours did they wait for um--forninst a hedge on +th' road he had tu come home by, from Ballymeen Fair. + +"By an' by they hears um a-comin . . . a-hollerin' an' laughin' tu +umsilf, an' roarin' an' singin' 'Th' Jug av Potheen.' Full av ut, tu, by +token av th' voice av um. Tim makes all ready wid th' blundherbuss. All +av a suddint tho', th' tchune shtops, an' tho' they waits for um for +quite a toime, he niver shows up. By an' by they gets fed up wid lyin' +belly-down in th' soakin' rain. 'H-mm! mighty quare!' sez me father, 'I +wonder fwhat's happened tu th' pore ould ginthleman?' 'Let us go luk for +um?' sez Tim, wid blood in his oi, ''tis may be he's on'y shtoppin' tu +take another dhrink out av th' jug.' + +"So, up th' road they goes a piece, till they comes tu a bog at th' side +av ut. An' there they finds um--head-first shtuck in th' bog--just th' +tu feet av um shtickin' out an' which boots Tim sez he can swear tu. +'Begorrah!' sez me father, 'that accounts for th' tchune shtoppin' so +suddint! Let us luk for th' jug?' Well, they hunts around for th' jug +awhile, but all they finds is his ould caubeen. So they shtuck that on +wan of his feet, an' Tim, he pins th' warrant av evictmint tu ut, +currsin' somethin' fierce th' whiles bekase he was done out av getthin' a +shot at the 'ould rapparee wid th' blundherbuss." + +Slavin shook his head slowly at the conclusion of the story. "Eyah!" he +said wistfully, "many's th' toime have I heard me father tell that same +tale. They must have been shtirrin' times, thim!" In characteristic +fashion his mood suddenly changed. His face hardened, as with upraised +hand he silenced the burst of laughter he had provoked from his hearers. +"Ginthlemen!" he resumed quietly, "we're none av us cowards here, but--no +need tu remind yu'--fwhat sort av a man we are goin' up against this +night." + +Unconsciously he drew himself up, with an air of simple, rugged dignity +that well became his grim visage and powerful frame. In that hour of +impending danger the brave, true, kindly heart of the man stood +revealed--a personality which endeared him to Yorke and Redmond beyond +any ties of friendship they had known. + +Slowly he repeated, "we are none av us cowards here, but--remimber Larry +Blake, an' that pore hobo shtiff back in th' shed there. An' remimber +thim dogs this mornin'. We du not want tu undherrate um. We du not want +tu cop ut like did Wilde, whin he wint tu arrest Charcoal; or Colebrook, +whin he tackled Almighty Voice. Maybe he'll just come a-yawnin' tu th' +dhure, wid th' dhrawlin' English spache av um, sayin' 'Well, bhoys, an' +fwhat's doin'?' An' yet again--may be he's all nerves afther th' bad +break he made in front av us this mornin'--expectin' us--eyah!--waithin', +watchin' belike, wid his gun in his fisht. Luk at th' way he acted +afther his gun play--leery as hell. . . ." + +"Yes!" said Yorke thoughtfully, "egad! there was something darned queer +in the way he acted, all right. Guess we'd better take carbines along, +eh, Burke? . . . in case we get let in for a man hunt. For all we know, +he may have beat it already. Another thing--he may start in bucking us +about not having a warrant--just to gain time?" + +Slavin met the other's suggestion with a grim nod of acquiescence. +"Shure! we'll take thim," he said, "but"--his jaw set ruthlessly--"if I +wanst get my grub-hooks on um . . . why! 'tis all up!--carbines, or no +carbines--warrant or no warrant. Section thirty av th' Code covers th' +warrant bizness--in a case like this, anyways. Come on, thin, bhoys, +saddle up! An' Lanky!--yu give me a hand wid th' team! we must be +getthin'!" + +Presently all was in readiness, and the small, well-armed party left the +detachment under the light of a brilliant three-quarter moon. Slavin led +in the police buckboard, with the doctor seated beside him, and Lanky +Jones crouched behind them. Yorke and Redmond rode in the rear, with +their carbines slung at the saddle-horn. It was a hazardous mission they +were bound on, as they all fully realized now, knowing the terribly +ruthless character of the man they sought to apprehend. + +Descending the grade which led to the bend of the river they swung due +east at a smart pace, following the winding Lower Trail. This last road +ran past Gully's ranch, which lay some three miles distant. As they +neared their objective the sergeant slackened his team down to a walking +pace. + +Suddenly Redmond tongue-clucked to himself in absent fashion. The sound +of it roused Yorke out of the sombre reverie into which he had fallen. + +"What's up, Red?" queried he waggishly, in a low voice, "dreaming you're +taking that dive again, or what?" + +"No!" muttered George abstractly in the same key. "I was thinking what a +rum, unfathomable old beggar Slavin is. Fancy him springing that comical +old yarn at such a time as this?" + +"Ah!" murmured his comrade reflectively. "When you come to know Burke as +well as I do you'll find he's generally got some motive for these little +things--blarney and all. You laughed, didn't you? Guess we all of us +gave the giddy 'ha! ha'.' Felt quite chipper after it, too, the bunch of +us . . . well then?" + +"Sh-sh!" came the sergeant's back-flung, guarded growl, "quit your gab +there! We're gettin' nigh, bhoys--here's th' brush forninst his +place . . . must go mighty quiet an' careful now." + +Looming up dark and forbidding ahead of them they beheld the all-familiar +sight of the huge, shadowy thicket of pine and Balm o' Gilead clumps that +fringed the west end of Gully's ranch. Entering its gloomy depths, they +felt their way slowly and cautiously along the stump-dotted trail. At +intervals, from somewhere overhead, came the weird, depressing hoot of a +long-eared owl, and, seemingly close at hand, the shrill, mocking +"ki-yip-yapping" of coyotes echoed sharply in the stillness of the night. +Stray patches of moonlight began to filter upon the party once more as +they gradually neared the end of the rough-hewn avenue; the thick growth +of pine giving place to scattered cotton-wood clumps. + +Arriving at the verge of the timber the party halted. There, some two +hundred yards distant, upon a patch of open ground partially encircled by +dense, willow-scrub, lay a ghostly-shadowed cluster of ranch buildings. +The living habitation itself stood upon a slightly raised knoll, hard +upon the river-bank. To their nostrils the night air brought the strong, +not unpleasant scent of cattle, drifting up from the numerous recumbent +bovine forms which dotted the ground all around the ranch. + +Awhile the party gazed speculatively at the habitation of him--the +undoubted perpetrator of the deadly deeds--for whom they had sought so +long. The peaceful aspect of their moonlit surroundings suddenly smote +the minds of all with a strange sense of unreality, as full realization +of the sinister import of their errand came home to them. In uncanny +telepathy with their disturbed feelings sounded the owl's derisive +hooting, and the persistent mocking raillery of the coyotes. + +It was Slavin who broke the long, tense silence. "Damn that 'Dismal +Jimmy' owl!" he ejaculated testily, in a low tone--"an' thim +ki-oots! . . . beggars all seem to be givin' us th' ha! ha! as if they +knew. P'raps he has beat ut on us afther all? . . . 'Tis harrd tu +say--we cannot shpot a glim from this side--winders all face east. Now! +luk a-here, all av yez!" He turned to his companions with a grim, +determined face, his deep-set eyes glittering ominously in the light of +the moon. "Lets get things cut-an'-dhried behfure we shtart in," he +whispered. "Whin he knows th' jig's up--that's if he is in--he may act +like a man av sinse, an' agree tu come peaceable--but--" and Slavin shook +his head slowly--"if he refuses . . . fwhy? . . . 't'wud be straight +suicide tu attimpt tu rush um. There's on'y wan dhure. Hidin' in th' +dark there, wid that Luger gun av his coverin' ut, we'd shtand no show at +all. He'd put th' whole bunch av us out av business--in as many shots, +behfure a man av us got a chance tu put fut inside. Now, let's see!" he +murmured reflectively. "Fwhat is th' lay av th' shack agin? There's--" + +"The door and two of the windows face east," interpolated Yorke, +softly--"living-room and kitchen--one window to the south--that's his +bed-room." + +"Eyah! that's ut," whispered the sergeant, "now thin--Lanky--du yu' shtay +right here wid th' harses. Kape yu're head--even if ye du hear shootin'. +Du not shtir from here onless ye get ordhers from wan av us." Turning to +the others he continued in a sibilant hiss, "Yu, Reddy, shlip along th' +edge av th' brush here, an' over th' river-bank onto th' shingle. Kape +well down an' thread careful ontil ye come forninst th' back winder. +Thin pop yu're head up circumshpict an' cover ut wid yu're carbine. Use +good judgmint tho'; none av us want tu shtart in shootin' onless we're +forced tu ut. Ondher th' circumstances 'tis best we thry an' catch um +alive." + +For a moment Slavin stared after Redmond's crouching form, as his +subordinate disappeared in the gloom, "Thrust no harm comes tu th' lad," +he muttered irresolutely, "quick as a flash is th' bhoy wid his head, +eyah! but he's inclined tu be over rash at toimes." + +"Oh, he's all right," hissed Yorke reassuringly, "don't you get worrying +over him making any bad breaks, Burke. He's as fly as they make 'em." + +Presently the sergeant faced round with a dreary sigh. "Come on thin, +Docthor," he murmured heavily, "wid me an' Yorke." + +Making a wide detour they circled the ranch and wormed their way +cautiously through the dense scrub on its eastern side. Suddenly, with a +warning gesture to his companions, the sergeant halted. They had reached +the verge of the scrub and the front of the ranch-house faced +them--barely twenty yards distant. They could discern a faint light +glimmering around the lower edge of one of the windows. + +"He is in!" whispered Slavin exultantly. "Blinds down though. 'Tis a +quare custom av his. Come on thin, Yorkey, me bould second-in-command! +In a mighty few short minuts we shall know"--his jaw dropped--"fwhat we +shall know! . . . Arrah thin, Docthor!"--he silenced a violent protest +from that adventurous gentleman, who made as though to accompany +them--"if ye wud help us in best fashion--shtay right here, an' mark +fwhat comes off. If we shud happen tu get ut in th' neck . . . just yu' +beat ut back tu Lanky! Ye know fwhat tu du--thin. I'll lave me carbine +here awhile." + +He stepped clear of the brush and, revolver in hand, advanced softly upon +the low, one-story, log-built dwelling. Yorke followed a few steps in +his rear, with his carbine held in readiness at the "port-arms." + +Reaching the door, the sergeant rapped upon it sharply. There was no +response from within, but--the light vanished on the instant. Yorke +stepped warily to the side and covered the door with his weapon. A few +tense moments passed, and then Slavin rapped again. Heavy footfalls now +sounded, approaching the door from the inside, halted, and then, through +the panels came Gully's hollow, booming bass: "Who's there?" + +"Shlavin of th' Mounted Police, Gully. Opin up! we wud shpake wid ye." + +"What do you want? What's your business at this hour of the night?" + +"Fwhat do we want?"--the sergeant uttered mirthless chuckle--"fwhy 'tis +yu' we want, Gully--for murdher! Come off th' perch, man, th' jig's up! +There's a bunch av us here--we've got yu're shack covered properly--wid +carbines--north, east, south, an' west--ye can pull nothin' off. Come +now! will ye pitch up an' act reasonable? 'Tis no manner av use ye +shtartin' in tu buck th' Force. Juty's juty--ye know that." + +"Have you got a warrant, Sergeant?" + +"Eyah!" came Slavin's sinister growl. "We've bin fishin', Gully, up in +th' big pool beyant. _Well_ ye must know that pool. Fwhat we caught +there is our warrant. Opin up now, will ye? else we bust yu're dhure in!" + +"Slavin--Sergeant! You and Yorke whom I've known all this time--good +fellows"--the deep, imploring tones faltered slightly--"do not push me to +it, man! You and your men go away and leave me in peace this night. +Christ knows! I don't want to do it but--if you persist in forcing an +entrance in here without a warrant--why! I'll pull on your crowd till +there's not a man left." + +"Gully!" the sergeant's voice shook with passion at the other's threat, +"ye bloody murdherin' dog! Ye dhirty back-av-th'-head gun-artist! +Thryin' for tu come th' 'good-feller' over us av th' Mounted! There's +on'y wan answer tu that, an' ye know ut. Now, will ye opin up this +dhure, or I'll bust her down!" + +And, as if to enforce his command, Slavin set his huge shoulder against +the door and gave a heave which caused the stout wood to crack ominously. + +"Look out, Burke!" cried Yorke suddenly. His right arm shot out and +jerked the maddened Irishman violently towards him. His hasty action was +only just in time. + +Bang! bang! Two muffled shots detonated within, and white splinters flew +from a spot in the door covered a moment before by the sergeant's broad +breast. With a startled oath Slavin flung up his gun, as if to fire +back; but Yorke clutched his arm and arrested the action. + +"No, no, Burke!" he hissed warningly, "no use doing that! You bet he's +not there now. Lying 'doggo' behind the logs, most likely. You'd only +blow a hole in the door that he could pick us off through after. We're +proper marks in the moonlight here! Let's back up, and keep the front +covered." + +Slavin, balked of his prey, rumbled in his throat awhile, like some huge +bear; then, adopting Yorke's suggestion, he slowly backed up with the +latter to the sheltering brush, where they rejoined the expectant, +anxious doctor. + +"Hit, either of you?" he enquired tersely. + +Yorke replied in the negative. "Mighty close shave for Burke here, +though" he added, "lucky I heard Gully cocking that blasted Luger of +his." He uttered a suppressed chuckle, "Burke's always one to go +cautioning others, and then lose his temper and expose himself." + +For some few minutes they canvassed the situation in tense whispers, +lying prone in the brush with their carbines covering their objective. + +"Sh-sh!" hissed the doctor suddenly. "Hark!" + +With all their faculties on the stretch, they held their breaths and +listened intently. In the stillness they heard the unmistakable noise as +of a window being cautiously lifted. The sound came from the southern +end of the building. + +Then they heard Redmond's voice ring out sharply from the bank: "No use, +Gully! I've got you covered! You can't make it from there! You'd +better give in, man." + +There was an instant's silence, then--crack! came the crisp report of the +Luger. It was answered by the deep, reverberating bang! of a carbine, +and the crash of splintered glass and woodwork was followed by a boyish +laugh. + +"Told you Reddy was there with the goods!" remarked Yorke, triumphantly, +to his superior, "don't suppose he got him though--Gully's too fly--he'd +duck into shelter the instant he'd fired. I'll bet he's doing some tall +thinking just now. Beggar's between the devil and the deep +sea--properly. He'll chuck up the sponge just now, you'll see." + +"Eyah!" agreed Slavin, with an oath, "he's up against it. But Reddy down +there--I du not like th' idea av th' bhoy bein' all alone. Yorkey, yu' +shlink thru' th' brush an' down th' bank an' kape um company awhile. Th' +Docthor an' me'll kape th' front here covered." + +A few minutes later, Yorke, after first challenging Redmond cautiously, +crept up beside his comrade below the sheltering river-bank. + +"Did you get him?" he queried in a tense whisper. + +"No, I don't think so," muttered Redmond disconsolately, "but--he d----d +near got me--look!" + +He exhibited his Stetson hat. A clean bullet perforation showed in the +pinched-up top. "I could have got him--easy," he added, "when he first +opened the window. Wish I had, now--but you know what Burke said--about +getting him alive--I only loosed off after he'd thrown down on me. I was +scared for you and Burke, though! I could see you both backing up--after +he'd shot through the door." + +Bang! A dull, muffled report detonated within the building. The ominous +echoes gradually died away, and the stillness of the night settled over +all once more. + +The crouching policemen stared at each other strangely. "Hear that?" +ejaculated Redmond, with a startled oath, "By G----d! he's shot himself! +must have--it sounded muffled. . . . All over! I'll bet his brains--" + +He broke off short and, shoving the barrel of his carbine over the edge +of the bank, he commenced to clamber up. "Wait a second! . . . Good +God, Red! don't do that!" snarled Yorke warningly. "He's as cunning as +a blasted _lobo_. May be it's only a tr--" + +The entreaty died in his throat. Crack! A spurt of flame shot from the +opened window, and Redmond, with a gasping exclamation of rage and pain, +toppled backwards onto the shingle, his carbine clattering down beside +him. Fearful of relaxing his vigilance even at this crisis, the maddened +Yorke flung up his weapon and sent shot after shot crashing through the +open casement. All could hear the smashing, rending sounds of havoc his +bullets were creating within. + +"Doctor!" he shouted. "Oh, Doctor! Come on round quick!" In a hoarse +aside he spat out feverishly, "Red! Red! my old son! . . . hit bad? +Where'd you get it?" + +"Shoulder! Oh-h!" gasped poor Redmond, moaning and rolling on the +shingle in his agony, "Oh, Christ, it hurts!" + +There came a crashing in the undergrowth on their right, and presently a +crouching form came creeping rapidly towards them under cover of the +sheltering bank. In a terse aside Yorke acquainted the doctor with the +details of his comrade's mischance, keeping a wary eye meanwhile on the +window. The ex-naval surgeon wasted no time in unnecessary question or +comment, but with the grim composure of an old campaigner swiftly +proceeded to render first aid to the wounded man. + +"Right shoulder--low down!" he presently vouch-safed to the anxious +Yorke. "Trust it's missed the lung! . . . can't tell yet! . . . I must +get him away the best way I can. No! . . . don't move, Yorke! You keep +on your mark! I can pack him I think. I'll get him to the buckboard +somehow. This is going to be a long siege, I'm thinking. You'll be +getting reinforcements later. Slavin told me to send for them." + +Bang! crash! The crisp sounds of splintering woodwork on the east side +of the shack denoted the fact of their quarry apparently attempting a +second escape from the front entrance. Unaided, the doctor cleverly +executed the professional fire-fighter's trick of raising, balancing on +the back, and carrying an unconscious human body. With an overwhelming +feeling of relief, not unmixed with admiration, at the other's gameness, +Yorke watched him stagger away in the gloom, bearing poor George upon his +bowed shoulders. + +His momentary lack of vigilance proved well-nigh his own undoing, also. +Crack! spat the Luger again from the window. His hat whirled from his +head, but he kept his presence of mind. It was not the first time by +many that Yorke had been under fire. Ducking down on the instant, he +moved swiftly three paces to his right, and then, finger on trigger, he +suddenly jerked upright and sent two more shots crashing through the +aperture. + +"Mark-er!" he called out mockingly. "Signal a miss, mark-er! Ding-dong! +You'll get tired of it before we do, Gully! You'd better give up the +ghost, man!" + +His grim sarcasm failing to draw further fire from his desperate +opponent, the senior constable reloaded wearily and settled down to what +promised to be a long, danger-fraught vigil. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + He "went out," poor Gus, at the break o' day--- + Oh!--his kindly ways, and his cheery face! + But . . . the Lord gave, and hath taken away, + Hark! sounds "The Last Post," Requiescat in Pace! + "THE LAST POST" + + +Slowly the night dragged through for the two grim, haggard sentinels. +Thrice during their vigil had their desperate quarry exercised his +marksmanship upon them with his deadly Luger. Seemingly only by a +miracle did they escape each time. The sergeant had his hat perforated +in similar fashion to his companions. Yorke had a shoulder-strap torn +from his stable-jacket. Adroitly shifting their positions each time he +fired, they greeted his shots with such withering blasts of carbine fire +that they finally silenced their enemy's battery. Throughout he had +remained as mute as a trapped wolf. Only an occasional cough indicated +that so far, apparently, he was unharmed and, like them, still grimly on +the alert. + +Relief came to the two besiegers with the first streaks of dawn. Dr. +Cox, with almost superhuman efforts, had somehow managed to reach Lanky +Jones and the buckboard with the wounded Redmond. Swiftly conveying the +latter back to the detachment, the physician had immediately got in touch +with the night-operator at the station, and also MacDavid. + +And now, guided by that old pioneer, Inspector Kilbride arrived upon the +scene with an armed party from the Post. They had been rushed up by a +special train, which had been flagged by MacDavid at the nearest +objective point to Gully's ranch. + +Swiftly and warily they skirmished towards their objective. Half of the +party, under a sergeant, crept along below the sheltering river bank +where they soon joined the wearied, but still vigilant, Yorke. The rest, +under the inspector, making a wide detour of the ranch, gained the brush +on its eastern side. Among this last party were Hardy, McSporran and +McCullough. In extended order they glided through the thick scrub and, +reaching its fringe, flung themselves prone with their carbines held in +readiness. + +The inspector gradually wormed himself up beside Slavin who, in a few +tense whispers, acquainted his superior with all details of the +situation. Full well, both men realized what a perilous spot it was, for +all concerned, on the eastern front of the shack. Straining their eyes +in the gray, ghostly gloom they could just discern an open casement. +Apparently it was from this well-sheltered embrasure that Gully had +previously attempted to pick off Slavin. With the coming of daylight +their position would be absolutely untenable in the face of further fire +from the enemy. On the other hand, if they retreated further into the +scrub they would lose sight of their objective altogether. + +So much Kilbride intimated to the sergeant as they held whispered +consultation. Also, he imparted reassuring news anent Redmond. The +latter's injury, though serious, was not a mortal hurt, according to a +report from MacDavid, who had left the doctor watching his patient +closely at the detachment. + +Suddenly, a few paces to the right of where they lay, came the sound of +one of the party stealthily clearing his throat. Poor fellow! his +momentary lack of caution proved to be his death warrant. + +Crack! A spurt of flame leapt from the velvety-black square of casement. +The horrid, unforgetable cry of a man wounded unto death echoed the shot, +and the startled besiegers could hear their comrade threshing around +amongst the dead leaves in his agony. + +"Steady, men! steady now! don't expose yourselves!" yelled the inspector. +"Fire at that window, while I get to this man!--keep me covered!" + +His commands were eagerly obeyed. Sheltered by the roaring burst of +carbine fire he wriggled sideways in feverish haste and eventually gained +the stricken man. The latter's convulsive threshing of limbs had ceased +and an instant's examination convinced the inspector that Gully's random +shot had been fatal. + +For awhile the besiegers poured in brisk volleys upon the door and +windows, until the inspector gave the command to "Cease Fire!" +Suddenly--mockingly--hard upon the last shot, the echoes of which had +barely died away, came again the vicious, whip-like crack of the Luger; +this time from the southern end of the shack. The long-drawn, +nerve-shattering scream of the first casualty was duplicated, and a +carbine volley crashed from the river bank. + +Then up from the attacking party swelled an exceeding bitter, angry cry; +the grim, deadly exasperation of men goaded to the point of recklessly +attempting ruthless reprisal upon their hidden enemy. With a total +disregard of personal safety many of them sprang up out of cover, as if +to charge upon their hated objective. + +"As you were! Back, men! back!" rang out the deep, imperious voice of +Kilbride. The stern command checked the onrush of maddened men. "D'you +hear me?" he thundered, "Take cover again immediately--everyone. . . . +I'll give the word when to rush him, and that's not yet." + +It said much for the discipline of the Force that his commands were +obeyed, albeit in somewhat mutinous fashion. The inspector turned to +Slavin with fell eyes. "Christ!" he said, "there's two men gone! I +won't chance any more lives in this fashion! I'll give him ten minutes +to surrender and if he don't give up the ghost then . . . . I'll do what +an emergency like this calls for--what I came prepared to do, if +necessary. Sergeant! take charge of this side until further orders; I'm +going down the bank to the other party awhile." + +He stole away through the brush and presently they all heard his +stentorian tones ring out from the river bank. "Gully! oh, Gully! It's +Inspector Kilbride speaking. I'll give you ten minutes to come out and +give yourself up. If you don't--well! . . . I've got a charge of +dynamite here . . . and a fuse, and I'll blow you and your shack to hell, +my man. It's up to you--now!" + +There was no response to the inspector's ultimatum. Amidst dead silence +the prescribed time slowly passed. Fifteen minutes--then, a gasping +murmur of excitement arose from those on the eastern front, as in the +rapidly whitening dawn they saw Kilbride suddenly reappear around the +northern and blank end of the building. For some few moments they +watched his actions in awe-struck, breathless silence as, with bent back, +he busied himself with his dangerous task. + +Presently he straightened up. "Now! Look out, everybody!" he bawled. +He struck a match and applied it to something that immediately began to +splutter, and then he retreated a safe distance northward. All eyes were +glued, as if fascinated, to the deadly, sputtering fuse. Soon came the +dull, muffled roar of an explosion. The walls of the building sagged +outwards, the roof caved in, and the whole structure seemed to collapse +like a pack of cards, amid a cloud of dust. + +For some few seconds the party gazed fearfully at the work of +destruction; then a loud cheer went up, and with one accord all dashed +forward, filled with eager, morbid curiosity as to what they might find +buried beneath the ruins. + +Suddenly, midway between the brush and their objective they checked their +onrush and halted, staring in speechless amazement. Pushing his way up, +apparently from some hole beneath a pile of debris, appeared the figure +of a huge man. + +In their excitement the attackers had overlooked the possibility of a +cellar existing below the stone foundation of the dwelling. At this +juncture the party from the river bank was rapidly approaching the ruins +from its western side. The posse was in a dilemma. Neither party dare +fire at its quarry between them for fear of hitting each other. + +Gully apparently either did not realize the situation or did not care. +With face convulsed with passion, beyond all semblance to a human being, +he crouched and rushed the party on the eastern side of his wrecked home, +firing as he came. Badly hit, several of his assailants were speedily +_hor de combat_, among them, Hardy and McCullough. The whole incident +happened in quicker time than it takes to relate. + +Then, from out the startled crowd there sprang a man. It was Slavin. +His hour had come. There was something appalling in the spectacle of the +two gigantic men rushing thus upon each other. Suddenly, Gully tripped +over a log and fell headlong, his deadly gun flying from his grasp. With +a sort of uncanny, cat-like agility he scrambled to his feet and strove +to recover his weapon. He was a fraction of a second too late. A kick +from Slavin sent it whirling several yards away, and the next moment the +opponents were upon each other. + +At the first onslaught the issue of the combat seemed doubtful. The +ex-sheriff was no wrestler like Slavin, but he speedily demonstrated that +he was a boxer, as well as a gun-man. Cleverly eluding the grasp of his +powerful assailant for the moment, twice he rocked Slavin's head back +with fearful left and right swings to the jaw. With a bestial rumbling +in his throat, the sergeant countered with a pile-driving punch to the +other's heart; then, ducking his head to avoid further punishment, he +grappled with the murderer. Roaring inarticulately in their Berserker +rage, the pair bore a closer resemblance to a bear and a gorilla than men. + +Once in that terrible grip, however, Gully, big and powerful man though +he was, had not the slightest chance with a wrestler of Slavin's ability. +Shifting rapidly from one cruel hold to another the huge Irishman +presently whirled his antagonist up over his hip and sent him crashing to +the ground, face downwards. Then, kneeling upon the neck of his +struggling and blaspheming victim, he held him down until handcuffs +finally imprisoned the enormous wrists, and leg-irons the ankles. + +The grim, long-protracted duel was over at last. But at lamentable cost. +Two men killed outright, and five badly wounded had been the deadly toll +exacted by Gully in his last, desperate stand. + +The rays of the early morning shone upon a strange and solemn scene. +Gully, guarded by two constables, was seated upon the stone foundation +that marked the site of his wrecked dwelling. Head in hands, sunk in a +sort of stupor, his attitude portrayed that of a man from whom all +earthly hope had fled. Some distance away lay the wounded men, being +roughly, but sympathetically attended to by their comrades. All were +awaiting now the arrival of the coroner, and also the means of +transportation which the inspector had ordered MacDavid to requisition +for them. + +Presently came those who reverently bore the dead upon +hastily-constructed stretchers. Silently Inspector Kilbride indicated a +spot near the fringe of brush; and there, side by side, they laid them +down, covering the bodies with a blanket dragged from the debris of the +shattered dwelling. + +Bare-headed, the rest of the party gathered around their officer. Long +and sadly Kilbride gazed down upon the still forms outlined under their +covering. Twice he essayed to speak, but each time his voice failed him. + +"Men!" he said at last huskily, as if to himself. "Men! is this what I +have brought you into? . . . Is this--" + +He choked, and was silent awhile; then; "Oh!" cried he suddenly, "God +knows! . . . under the circumstances I used the best judgment I--" + +But Slavin broke in and laid a tremulous hand on his superior's shoulder. +"No! no! Sorr! . . . hush! for th' love av Christ! . . . Ye must not--" +the soft Hibernian brogue sank to a gentle hush--"niver fear . . . for +thim that's died doin' their juty! . . . 'Tis th' Peace, Sorr--th' Peace +everlastin' . . . for Hornsby an' Wade. They were good men. . . ." + +Yorke bent down and, drawing back a fold of the blanket, exposed two +still white faces. In the centre of Hornsby's forehead all beheld +Gully's terrible sign-manual. Wade had been shot through the throat. + +"Hornsby!" gasped Yorke brokenly, "poor old Gus Hornsby!" . . . He +turned a tired, drawn face up to Slavin's. "He was with us in the Yukon, +Burke. Remember how we used to rag him when he first came to us as a +cheechaco buck? But the poor beggar never used to get sore over it . . . +always seemed sort of . . . patient . . . and happy . . . no matter how +we joshed him. . . ." + +Gently he replaced the blanket, stared stupidly a moment at the grim, +haggard face of his sergeant, then he burst out crying and wandered away +from the sad scene. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + That very night, while gentle sleep + The people's eyelids kiss'd, + Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn, + Through the cold and heavy mist; + And Eugene Aram walk'd between, + With gyves upon his wrist. + "THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM" + + +Slowly the memorable June day had drawn to a close, and now darkness had +set in and the moon shone brightly down upon the old detachment of +Davidsburg. It had been a strenuous day for Inspector Kilbride and his +subordinates, as many details of the eventful case had to be arranged ere +they could leave with their prisoner on the night's train for the Post. + +The inspector's first care, naturally, had been the slow and careful +conveyance of the wounded men (Redmond included)--and the dead--down to +the special train which still awaited them on the Davidsburg siding. The +bulk of the party departed with them, the officer retaining Slavin, +Yorke, and McSporran. A coroner's inquest, held that afternoon upon the +remains of the unfortunate hobo, Drinkwater, had resulted in a verdict of +"wilful murder" being returned against Ruthven Gully. Two days later, at +the Post, similar verdicts were rendered in the cases of poor Hornsby and +Wade. + +Throughout the day Gully had remained in a sort of sullen, brooding +stupor. But now, with the coming of night, he seemed to grow +restless--pacing within the narrow confines of his cell like unto a +trapped wolf, his leg-shackles clanking at every turn. Seated outside +the barred door, McSporran maintained a close and vigilant guard. It +wanted four hours yet until train time and inside the living-room the +inspector, Slavin, and Yorke were beguiling the interval in low-voiced +conversation. + +"Strange thing, Sergeant," remarked Kilbride musingly, "I can't place him +now, but I'll swear I've seen this man, Gully, before; somewhere back of +beyond, I guess. I've been in some queer holes and corners on this globe +in my time--long before I ever took on the Force. Seems he has, too, +from what you and Yorke have told me. D----d strange! . . . I've got a +fairly good memory for faces but--" + +He broke off and looked enquiringly at McSporran, who had silently +entered just then. "What is it, McSporran?" + +"Gully, Sirr!" responded the constable, saluting. "He wad wish tu speak +wi' ye, Sirr." + +The inspector's face hardened, and his steely eyes glittered strangely as +he heard the news. For a brief space he remained, chin in hand, in deep +thought; then rising, he sauntered slowly over to the prisoner's cell. + +"What is it you want, Gully?" he said quietly. + +"Kilbride--Inspector!" came the great rumbling bass through the bars. +"If you keep me cooped up in this pen much longer . . . I tell +you! . . . you'll have me slinging loose in the head--altogether!" He +uttered a mirthless, wolf-like bark of a laugh. "My ears are keener than +your memory--I heard you speaking just now. Listen!--" a curiously +wistful note crept into his deep tones, for the inspector had made an +angry, impatient gesture--"Listen, Kilbride! . . . I'm gone up--I know +it--therefore, if I sing my 'swan song' now or later, it can matter +little one way or the other; and I would rather sing it to you and Slavin +and Yorke there than to anyone else. Before I am through, you all +may--shall we say--p'raps judge me a trifle less harshly than you do now. +Regard this as . . . practically the last request of a man who is as good +as dying . . . that--I be allowed to sit amongst you once more . . . and +talk, and talk, and ta--" + +His voice broke, and he left the sentence unfinished. For some few +seconds the inspector remained motionless, with bent head, just +looking--and looking--in deep, reflective silence at the doomed man who +importuned him. + +"Am I to understand that you wish to make a statement, Gully?" he said, +in even, passionless tones. "Remember!--you've been charged and warned, +man--whatever you say'll be used in evidence against you at your trial." + +The other, hesitating a moment, swallowed nervously in his agitation. + +"Yes," he said huskily, "I know--but that's all right! . . . As I said +before--it can make little or no difference . . . in my case. . . ." + +Turning, Kilbride silently motioned to McSporran to unlock the cell-door. + +The huge manacled prisoner emerged, and shuffled awkwardly towards the +inner room, closely attended by his armed escort. + +Slavin and Yorke, seated together at one end of the table, arose as Gully +entered. Standing curiously still, as if carved in stone, their bitter +eyes alone betraying their emotions, silently they gazed at the huge, +gaunt, unkempt figure that came shambling towards them. + +Gully halted and stared long and fixedly at the relentless faces of the +two men whose grim, dogged vigilance had led to his undoing. Over his +blood-streaked, haggard face there swept the peculiar ruthless smile +which they knew so well; and he raised his manacled hands in a semblance +of a salute. + +"_Morituri te salufant_!" he muttered in his harsh, growling bass--the +speech nevertheless of an educated man. + +"Eh, fwhat?" queried Slavin vaguely. The classical allusion was lost on +him, but Kilbride and Yorke exchanged a grim, meaning smile as they +recalled the ancient formula of the Roman arena. McSporran pushed +forward a chair, into which Gully dropped heavily. Chin cupped in hands, +and elbows resting on knees he remained for a space in an attitude of +profound thought. The inspector, resuming his chair at the table, +motioned his subordinates to be seated, and reached forward for some +writing materials. + +"All right, now, Gully!" he began, in a hard, metallic tone. "What is it +you wish to say?" All waited expectantly. + +Apparently with an effort Gully roused himself out of the deep reverie +into which be had sunk, and for a space he gazed with blood-shot eyes +into the calm, stern face of his questioner. Then, with a sort of dreamy +sighing ejaculation, he roused himself and, leaning back in his chair, +began the following remarkable story. He spoke in a recklessly earnest +manner and with a sort of deadly composure that startled and impressed +his hearers in no little degree. + +"Listen, Inspector," he said. "A good deal of the story I'm going to +tell you has no bearing on the--the--the--case in hand. There's no use +in you taking all this down. I understand procedure"--he smiled +wanly--"therefore, with your permission I'll go ahead, and you can +construct a brief statement on your own lines afterwards, which I will +sign." + +Kilbride bowed his head in assent to the other's request. + +"The name I bear now," began the prisoner,--"'Ruthven Gully'--is my real +name, though knocking around the world like I've been since I was a kid +of sixteen, and the many queer propositions I've been up against in my +time, why--I've found it expedient to use various aliases. + +"For instance"--he eyed the inspector keenly--"I wasn't known as 'Gully' +that time Cronje nailed us all at Doornkop, Kilbride, in +'ninety-six. . . ." + +Kilbride uttered a startled oath. Shaken out of his habitual stern +composure he stared at the man before him in sheer amazement. "Good +God!" he cried, "The 'Jameson Raid!' . . . Now I know you, +man!--you're--you're--wait a bit! I've got it on the tip of my +tongue--Mor--Mor--Mordaunt, by gad! . . . that's what you called yourself +then. Ever since I sat with you on that case I've been turning it over +in my head where in ever I'd fore-gathered with you before. It was your +moustache which fooled me--you were clean-shaven then. . . Well, +Well! . . ." + +He was silent awhile, overcome by the discovery. "Aye!" he resumed in an +altered voice, "I've got good cause to remember you, Mor--Gully, I mean. +You certainly saved my life that day . . . when we were lying in that +_donga_ together. I was hit pretty bad, and you stood 'em off. You were +a wonderful shot, I recollect. I saw you flop out six Doppers--one after +the other." + +He turned to Slavin. "Sergeant!" he said quietly, "You'd better leave +the leg-irons on, but remove his handcuffs--for the time-being, +anyway. . . ." He addressed himself to the prisoner with a sort of sad +sternness. "It's little I can do for you now, Gully . . . but I can do +that, at least. . . ." + +Slavin complied with his officer's request. Gully's huge chest heaved +once, and he bowed his head in silent acknowledgment of Kilbride's act of +leniency. + +"All right! go ahead, Gully!" said the latter. + +The prisoner took up his tale anew. "As I was saying--I left the Old +Country when I was sixteen. No need to drag in family troubles, +but . . . that's why. . . . Well! I hit for the States. Montana for a +start off, and it sure was a tough state in 'seventy-four, I can tell +you. That's where I first learned to handle a gun. I knocked around +between there and Wyoming and Arizona for about nine years, and during +that time I guess I tackled nearly every kind of job under the sun, but I +punched and rode for range outfits mostly. + +"Then I was struck with a fancy to see the South, and I drifted to +Virginia. I'd been there about two years, working as an overseer on a +tobacco plantation, when I got a letter from our family's solicitor +recalling me home. My eldest brother had died, and the estate had passed +on to me. Where, Inspector?--why, it was at Castle Brompton, a quiet +little country town in Worcestershire. + +"Well! I'd had a pretty rough training--living the life of a roustabout +for so many years, and I guess I kind of ran amuck when I struck home. I +played ducks and drakes with the estate, and the end of it was . . . I +got heavily involved in debt. There seemed nothing for it but to +up-anchor, and to sea again in my shirt. So, my fancy next took me to +Shanghai, where I obtained a poorly-paid Civil Service job--in the +Customs. I stuck that for about a year, and then I pulled +out--disgusted. The next place I landed up in was, if anything, +worse--the Gold Coast. From there I drifted to the Belgian Congo. I was +there for nearly two years doing--well! perhaps it's best for me not to +enter into details--we'll call it 'rubber.' It's a cruel country +that--one that a man doesn't exactly stay in for his health, anyway; for +a bad dose of fever nearly fixed me. It made me fed up with the climate +and--the life. So I pulled out of it and went down country to the +Transvaal. That's how I came to get mixed up in 'The Raid,' Inspector. +I was in Jo'burg at the time it was framed up, so I threw in my lot with +the rest of you. + +"Suddenly I had an overwhelming desire to go back to the States and the +range life again. I was properly fed up with Africa. So--back I went +there--to Montana again. I punched for one or two cow-outfits awhile, +and then came a time when a deputation of citizens came and put it up to +me if I'd take on the office of Deputy-Sheriff for ---- County, where I +happened to be working. I suppose the fact of my being a little more +handy with a gun than most had impressed some of them. Things were +running wild there just then, and for awhile I tell you, I was up against +a rather dirty proposition. I and my guns certainly worked overtime for +a stretch, till I got matters more or less ship-shape. I had the backing +of the best people in the community luckily, and eventually I won out. + +"Then--when the inevitable reaction set in with the peaceable times that +followed, somehow I managed to get in bad with some of them. They had no +more use for me or my guns. I was like a fish out of water. I decided +to pull out, for a strange hankering to see England and my old home again +came over me. So I resigned my office and headed back to the Old +Country. . . ." + +At this point in his narrative, Gully dropped his head in his hands and +rocked wearily awhile ere continuing haltingly: "It was the mistake of my +life--ever going back--to a civilized country. For a time I strove to +conduct myself as a law-abiding British citizen--to conform to the new +order of things, but--I had been amongst the rough stuff too long. I was +out of my sphere entirely. + +"One day, in a hotel at Leeds, I got into a violent quarrel with a +man--fellow of the name of Hammond. It was over a woman. He insulted +me--in front of a crowd of men at that--and finally he struck me. +Hitherto I'd taken no back-down from any man living, and I guess I forgot +myself then and kind of ran amuck--fancied I was back in Montana again. +Consequence was--I threw down on him in front of this crowd and shot him +dead. + +"Of course I was arrested and charged with murder in the first degree; +but as it was adduced at my trial that I'd received a certain amount of +provocation, I was sent down for fifteen years. I'd done little over six +months of my time in Barmsworth Prison when I and two of my fellow +convicts framed up a scheme to escape. It takes too long to go into +details how we worked it. I made my get-away, though I had to abolish a +poor devil of a warder in doing so. The other two lost out. One got +shot and the other was caught some days later--as I read in the papers. + +"Well! I managed to reach the States again, and eventually came over +this side of the line. As I had been convicted and sentenced under the +alias which I had adopted while in England--my real name never coming +out--I resumed my name of Gully again when I settled down here. My +relatives, what few I possess, have never known of my conviction and +imprisonment. All the time I was in England on my second trip I was +clean-shaven, but on returning to the States I let my moustache grow once +more. As you said, Kilbride--it is a very effectual disguise. Will one +of you give me a drink, please? My mouth's pretty dry with all this +talking." + +Yorke got up and brought him a glass of water, and he drank it down with +a murmur of thanks. + +"Now!" he said, continuing his narrative: "I'm coming to the worst part +of all. You'll all wonder I've not gone mad--brooding; but I've got to +go through with it. When I settled down here I honestly did struggle +hard to live down my past and start afresh with a clean sheet. I +borrowed some money from an old ex-sheriff friend of mine in +Montana--which loan, by the way, I have paid all back--every cent--and +bought"--he gazed gloomily at Kilbride--"what was my home. But +somehow . . . Fate seems to have dogged me and tripped me up in the end. +Until last January everything was going well with me. As Slavin and +Yorke here can testify . . . I was conducting myself fairly and squarely +with all men. + +"Then--one day Yorke brought that Blake and Moran case up in front of me. +Both of these men I'd met before, but they didn't recognize me again--not +absolutely. I usually contrived to keep pretty clear of them for reasons +which will appear obvious later. I'm coming to that. Moran I recognised +as a former Montana tough who used to hang around Havre--bronco-buster, +cow-puncher, and tin-horn by turns. Many a time I've caught him sizing +me up, in Cow Run and elsewhere--mighty hard, too, but he never seemed to +be sure of me. Once he did chance a feeler, but I just twirled my +moustache, à la Lord Tomnoddy, and bluffed him to a finish. + +"Larry Blake"--a ruthless gleam flickered momentarily in Gully's +deep-set, shadowy eyes--"Larry Blake, I recognized as the son of the +Governor of Barmsworth Prison--old Gavin Blake. Sometimes this young +fellow used to come around with his father, when the old gentleman was +making his daily tour of inspection. I well remember the first time I +saw him--young Larry. I was chipping stone in the quarry, amongst a +gang, with a ball and chain on. I'd been in about two months then. The +Governor was showing some visitors around, and his son was with him. +They were staring at us like people do at wild animals in a show. I was +pointed out to them, and my recent crime mentioned. I remember young +Blake eying me with especial interest. He came out to Canada and hit +these parts about two years after I'd located here. + +"Well! now and again when we'd run across each other I'd find him looking +at me in a queer, vague fashion, too; but I felt safe enough with him; +like I did with Moran--until this case came up. After it was over, he +and I happened to be alone, and, in a round-about way, he began asking me +questions. He did it so clumsily, though, that my suspicions were +aroused at once. Of course I bluffed him--or thought I had--easily for +the moment, but one day I happened to be in the Post Office getting my +mail when, amongst a bunch of letters on the counter I saw one addressed +to 'Gavin Blake, Esq., Governor of Barmsworth Prison, England.' Old +Kelly, the postmaster, having his back to me at the time, fumbling around +the pigeon-holes, I promptly annexed this letter and slipped it into my +pocket. + +"When I opened it up my suspicions were verified. Young Blake wrote to +his father that he'd come across a man whom he could almost swear to as +being one of the three convicts who'd broken out of Barmsworth some years +back. He asked what steps he'd better take in the case--if the original +warrant issued for me could be forwarded to the Mounted Police, and so +on. He said his intentions were to try and gain further evidence, and in +the meantime to confide in no one about his suspicions until he received +definite instructions what steps to take. + +"I guess the devil must have got a good grip on me again after I'd read +that letter. It seemed no use trying to redeem the past with outsiders +like young Blake making it their business to butt in and lay one by the +heels. Anyway, like Satan at prayers, I didn't feel like being coolly +sacrificed when my years of honest effort were drawing near their reward +in the shape of a fairly prosperous ranch--just at the whim of a lazy, +profligate young busy-body. + +"From that hour Larry Blake was practically--'gone up.' I'd deliberately +made up my mind to put him out of business on the first convenient +opportunity that presented itself. That opportunity came on the night he +was fighting with Moran in the hotel. I thought I could kill two birds +with one stone. I'll admit it was a devilish idea, but I was desperate. +Of course things didn't shape out as I'd planned--Moran's alibi for +instance, or that hobo, Drinkwater. + +"I know to you it will only appear sheer nonsense on my part ever to +start in attempting to justify my--my abolishment of him. But this--what +I am going to tell you--is the absolute truth of what happened. In the +first place--when he spotted me bringing Moran's horse into the stable +that night--although I was mad and man-handled the poor devil at the +time--I felt fairly easy in my mind later, thinking he would drift out of +town next day, after the manner of his kind. But when he was brought up +in front of me afterwards, I realized the serious predicament I was in." + +He turned to Slavin. "Sergeant!" he went on: "I'll admit I was feeling +pretty queer when you were examining that man--especially about the +smelling of drink business. I'd slipped him a snort of whiskey after +you'd gone down to Doctor Cox's to get those papers signed. I told him +to keep his mouth shut if he was questioned about any horse or man--and +that I'd get him off if he obeyed my instructions. Of course he didn't +know what all this was for. He had no opportunity of knowing--never did +know, though I fancy he thought it was a case of horse-stealing. Anyway, +my promises and the drink made him my ally at once. Only human nature +for him to side with me against the Police. As you know, Sergeant, you +can get more definite results from that class of man by a drink bribe +than by all the threats and promises in the world. + +"My original intention in taking him out to my place was to slip him +twenty dollars or so, and head him adrift westward, and so out of things. +But after we got home and I put the proposition up to him, the beggar +began to assert himself and get bold and saucy--tried to blackmail me for +an unheard of amount--threatening he'd go and tell you everything if I +didn't come across, and all that. Finally I lost my temper with him and +gave him a good slap across the face. He happened to be outside the +house bucking wood at the time, and, when I hit him, he came for me with +the axe. I only jumped back just in time, as he struck. I threw down on +him and put him out of business right-away then, realizing I was up +against it." + +Gully halted for a space and leaned his head in his hands. "God!" he +muttered presently, "what nights I've had! I've killed many men in my +time, but those two--I hated framing up all that business on you fellows +next day--those tracks and the bill-folder, and all that useless chasing +for a week, but it seemed to me to be the only plausible bluff I could +run on you, under the circumstances. Now, are there any more things you +don't understand? Any questions you'd like to ask me?" + +"Yes!" queried Slavin. "How did you get to Calgary that night--after +you'd missed the nine-thirty eastbound. Jump a freight, or what? You +were seen to get on the train. . . ." + +"I know that," said Gully slowly, "I did it for a blind. I walked +through the coaches and slipped out again at the far end of the +platform--in the dark. No! I didn't jump a freight, Sergeant. I was +tempted to; but on second thoughts the idea made me feel kind of uneasy. +Perhaps you'll be dubious of this, but, as a fact, I took a +'tie-pass'--walked it all the way to Calgary on the track. I was about +done when I made Shagnappi Point, beating my passage through all that +snow. I bought a new pair of cow-puncher's boots while I was in town. +You remember I was wearing them when I returned. I had the overshoes +wrapped up as a parcel and packed them back to the ranch and burnt +them--and Drinkwater's boots." + +"How about that Savage automatic?" said Yorke, "the one you shot those +dogs with yesterday? We've got your Luger, but where's the Savage gun?" + +"Oh, yes!" replied Gully wearily, "of course I had two guns. I never +used to pack the Luger around--afterwards, well! . . . for obvious +reasons. You'll probably find the Savage in the cellar at my +place--that's if it isn't buried, like I nearly was." + +There was a long silence, broken only by the scratch, scratch, of the +inspector's pen, as he rapidly indited a formal statement for the +prisoner to sign. Once during its composition he halted for a brief +space and, leaning back in his chair, gazed long with a sort of dreary +sternness at the huge, unkempt figure before him. + +"Gully," he said slowly, "whatever in God's name put it into your head to +stand off the Police in the way you did? Shooting those two poor chaps +and nearly putting the kibosh on five others! Whatever did you hope to +gain by it? You must have known it was absolutely impossible for you to +make your get-away from us. Why, man! we had you cornered like a wolf in +a trap. It was worse than silly and useless and cruel for you to act in +the way you did!" + +"Oh, my God! I don't know!" moaned Gully, rocking despondently with his +head in his hands. "I must have gone clean mad for the time +being. . . ." He gazed gloomily at Slavin and Yorke, muttering half to +himself: "What little things do trip a man up in the end! The best laid +schemes o' mice and men! But for my shooting those cursed dogs yesterday +you'd never, never have suspected me. The whole thing would just have +been filed and forgotten in time--would just have remained one of those +unfathomable mysteries. Directly after I'd thrown down on those curs I +realized what a d----d bad break I'd made--what my momentary loss of +temper was going to cost me. I could tell by the way you all looked at +me what was in your minds. . . ." + +"Yes, but how about that fishing expedition of ours, Gully?" said Yorke. +"You seem to have forgotten that." And he related the story of Redmond's +dive. + +"Ah!" retorted Gully, bitterly. "And yet you might have got snagged a +hundred times there and only just cursed and snapped your line and reeled +in, thinking it was a log or something. . . . Well, as I was saying, I +realized the jig was up after that dog business, and directly I got home +I began making preparations for my get-away last night. If you'd all +only have come half an hour later than you did--That's what made me so +mad--just another half hour later, mind you, and I would have been +away--en route for the Coast by the night train." + +Presently Kilbride threw aside his pen and straightened up. "Now, +listen, Gully!" he said. And he read out the confession that he had +composed from the main facts of the prisoner's remarkable statement. + +"Yes!" muttered Gully thoughtfully, as the inspector finished. "Yes, +that will do, Kilbride. Give me the pen, please, and I will sign +it. . . ." + +He proceeded to affix his signature, continuing with a sort of deadly +composure: "I have endorsed and executed many death-warrants in my +time--in my capacity of Deputy-Sheriff--I little thought that some day I +might be called upon to sign my own . . . which this document virtually +is. . . ." + +He reared himself up to his huge, gaunt height, and with a sweeping +glance at his captors added: "Nothing remains for me now I imagine, but +to shake hands with--Radcliffe.[1] . . ." + +And his dreadful voice died away like a single grim note of a great, +deep-toned bell, tolled perchance in some prison-yard. + + +"_Eshcorrt_! Get ready!" boomed out Sergeant Slavin's harsh command. +The party was on the station platform. Yorke and McSporran fell in +briskly on either side of their heavily-manacled prisoner, and stood +watching the distant lights of the oncoming east-bound train as it +rounded the Davidsburg bend. + +One last despairing glance Gully cast about him at the all familiar +surroundings, then he raised his fettered hands on high and lifted up his +great voice: + +"I have striven! I have striven!--and now!--Oh! there is no God! Bear +witness there is no God! No God! . . ." he cried to the heavens. + +The wild, harsh, dreadful blasphemy rang far and wide out into the night, +floating over the nearby river and finally dying away a ghastly murmur up +among the timber-lined spurs of Crag Cañon. + +And a huge, gaunt lobo wolf, lying at the crest of the draw, flung up his +gray head and howled back his awful note--seemingly in echo: "There is +no God! no God!" + + +[1] Note by Author--Canada's official executioner at this period. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + "Feel my pulse, sir, if you want to, + but it ain't much use to try--" + "Never say that," said the Surgeon, + as he smothered down a sigh: + "Chuck a brace, for it won't do, man, + for a soldier to say die!" + "What you say don't make no diffrunce, Doctor, + an'--you wouldn't lie. . . ." + "THE OLD SERGEANT" + + +"Git there! Come a-Haw-r-r, then! Whoa!" With a flourish, Constable +Miles Sloan, the Regimental Teamster, swung the leaders of his splendid +four-in-hand and pulled up at the front entrance of the Holy Cross +Hospital. Slewing around on his high box-seat he addressed himself to +the drag's occupants, Slavin and Yorke. + +"I don't know whether they will let you see him, or not," he remarked +doubtfully, "he's a pretty sick man." + +"We will chance ut, anyway," mumbled Slavin, as he and Yorke climbed out +of the rig. "Ye'd best wait awhile, Miles! We shan't be long." + +Quietly--very quietly, Sister Marthe opened the door of room Number +Fifty-six, and with list-slippered noiselessness stepped out into the +corridor. + +"Oh, Mon Dieu!" she ejaculated, startled at the sudden apparition of two +scarlet-coated figures standing motionless outside the door, "Oh, +m'sieurs, 'ow you fright me!" and the expressive eyes under the white +coif and the shoulders and supple hands of the French-Canadian +Nursing-Sister made great play. + +Yorke saluted her with grave courtesy. "Sister," he said anxiously, "how +is Constable Redmond doing? Can we see him?" + +She glanced irresolutely a moment at the handsome, imploring countenance +of the speaker, and then her gaze flickered to his huge companion. The +silent, wistful appeal she read in the latter's grim, cadaverous face +decided her. + +"_Eheu_!" she said softly, "'e is a ver' seeck man . . . but come then, +m'sieurs, if you wish it!" + +Cautiously they tip-toed into the room behind her. + +Yes! They decided, he was a "seeck" man all right! So sick that he +could not raise his flushed, hollow-cheeked young face from the pillow to +salute his comrades with his customary impious bonhomie. Now, gabbling +away to himself in the throes of delirium, ever his feverish eyes stared +beyond the hospital-walls westwards to Davidsburg. + +With his brow contracted with an expression of vague worry, he was living +over and over again the memorable night in which he had gotten his wound. + +"Slavin!--Yorkey!" he kept repeating, in tones of such yearning entreaty +that moved those individuals more than they cared to show. Yes, they +were both of them there, standing by the side of his cot; but the poor +sufferer's unseeing eyes betrayed no recognition. + +The deep sorrow that oppressed Slavin and Yorke just then those worthies +rarely--if ever--alluded to afterwards. Passing the love of women is the +unspoken, indefinable spirit of true comradeship that exists between some +men. + +For one brief, soul-baring moment the comrades stared at each other, +their self-conscious faces reflecting mutually their inmost feelings; +then Yorke turned to Sister Marthe. + +"What does the Doctor say?" he whispered anxiously. + +The nurse was about to make answer when the door was softly opened and +that gentleman entered the room, accompanied by Captain Bargrave and +Inspector Kilbride. + +Involuntarily, from long habit of discipline, Slavin and Yorke, stiffened +to "attention" in the presence of their superiors, until, with a kindly, +yet withal slightly imperious gesture, the O.C. mutely signified them +to relax their formal attitude. The Regimental Surgeon, Dr. Sampson, a +tall, gray-moustached, pleasant-faced man, nodded to them familiarly and +proceeded to make minute examination of his patient's wound. From time +to time he questioned and issued low-voiced instructions to Sister +Marthe. Perfectly motionless, the grave-eyed quartette of policemen +stood grouped around the cot, silently awaiting the physician's verdict. + +Throughout, poor Redmond had continued to toss and rave incessantly. +Much of his babbling was incoherent and fragmentary--breaking off short +in the middle of a sentence or dying away in a mumbling, indistinct +murmur. At intervals though, his voice rang out with startling clearness. + +"Ah-a-a! Here he is!" he cried out suddenly, "Gully!"--all eyes were +centred on the flushed, unquiet face and restless hands. There seemed a +curious, morbid fascination in watching the workings of that +sub-conscious mind. "No use, Gully! You can't make it from there!"--the +twitching hands made a motion as of levelling a carbine--"No use, man! +I've got you covered. . . . You' better give in! . . ." + +He paused for a space, panting feverishly, then his eyes became wilder +and his speech more rapid. + +"No! no! Gully!" he gasped out imploringly, "it's Yorkey, I tell you--oh, +don't pick off Yorkey! . . . Drink? . . ."--the unnaturally bright eyes +stared unseeingly at the motionless figure of the O.C., standing at the +foot of the cot--"Not so much--now--since--looking after him. . . . Not +a bad chap. . . . We fought once. . . . Yes, Sir! . . . had--hell of a +fight! . . . Pax? . . . sure!--bless you!--buried ruddy hatchet--auld +lang syne--Slavin. . . . St. Agnes' Eve! . . . How he sings--! Oh, +shut up, Yorkey!--Sings, I tell you--! Hark! . . . that's him singin' +now--Listen! . . . What? . . . it's Stevenson's 'Requiem'. . . . Burke! +Burke! . . . the ----'s always singin' that . . . goes--" + +And the weak, fretful voice shrilled up in a quavering falsetto-- + + "_Under the wide--and--starry sky + Dig--the grave, and--let me--lie; + Glad did I--live, and--gladly die, + And I laid--me down with--a w----_" + +The shaky, pitiful tones died away in vague, incoherent mumblings. + +Yorke uttered a queer choking sound in his throat, and turned his face +away from the little group. Slavin, in silent comprehending sympathy, +laid a huge hand on the other's shoulder to steady him. In customary +British fashion, the O.C. and the Inspector strove to mask their emotions +under an exaggerated grimness of mien, only their eyes betraying their +feelings. The former, toying with his sweeping, fair moustache in +agitated fashion, gazed drearily around the sick-room till his stern, yet +kindly old eyes finally came to rest upon a framed scriptural quotation +which was hanging on the wall above the head of the cot. + +In corpulent, garish, black, red and gold German text the inscription ran: + + _At even, when the sun was set, + The sick, O Lord, around Thee lay; + Oh in what divers pains they met! + Oh in what joy they went away!_ + +Abstractedly, the old soldier read and re-read the verse till his eyes +ached, and he was forced to lower them and meet the tell-tale ones of +Kilbride. + +The Doctor, with a final satisfied scrutiny of his patient's wound, which +he had laid bare, bade the nurse dress it afresh, then, beckoning to the +others, he withdrew from the room, followed by the O.C. and his +subordinates. The Doctor's first words reassured them in no little +degree. + +"Oh, I've good hopes of him," he said. "He seems to be doing all right. +He'll pull around--that is, unless any unforeseen complications set in. +It's that journey down here yesterday that's upset him. Absolutely +necessary under the circumstances, of course, but--terribly hard on a man +in his condition. I think it'll be best for nobody to visit him--for +awhile anyway . . . must be kept as quiet as possible. Well! let's have +a look at the others!" + +The remaining wounded men occupied a large, semi-private ward lower down +the corridor. Of these last Hardy's case was by far the most serious. +He had been shot through the body; the high-pressure Luger bullet luckily +missing any vital organ. McCullough had been drilled through the calf of +his left leg, Davis through the arm, and Belt had had the knuckles +stripped from his right hand. All of them were resting quietly, though +weak from loss of blood and the train journey, + +The O.C. and Kilbride remained for a short time in the ward, manifesting +much kindly sympathy for the injured men, then, deeming that perhaps the +party was retarding the nurses' ministrations, the O.C. withdrew, +beckoning his subordinates to follow him. + +Slavin and Yorke walked slowly down the hospital steps and climbed into +the Police drag again. Sloan gathered up his lines and swung around on +his high seat. + +"Hullo!" he remarked sleepily. "Here you are again, eh? Begun to think +you were both in there for keeps! Well, did you see him?" + +"Yes!" answered Yorke tonelessly, avoiding the teamster's eyes, "We've +seen him. Home, James!" + + +Firm, measured footsteps sounded in the hospital corridor and halted with +a jingle of spurs outside the door of room Number Fifty-six. + +"Come aboard!" came the clear, boyish voice of its occupant, in response +to a knuckle-tattoo on the panel, and the visitors, Slavin and Yorke, +entered. + +Redmond, sitting up in bed, comfortably propped with pillows, threw aside +the magazine he had been reading and greeted the new-comers jovially and +with a light in his eyes which did the hearts of those worthies good to +see. + +A month's careful nursing and absolute quiet had transformed their +wounded comrade into a somewhat different being from the delirious +patient they had beheld when last they stood in that room. Allowing for +a slight emaciation and the inevitable hospital pallor, he appeared to be +well on the road to convalescence. + +"Sit at ease!" he said, with a fair semblance of his old grin. "Smoke up +if you want to, they don't kick about it here. I've tried it but it +tastes rotten as yet. Well! What's doin' in L?" (He referred to the +Division.) + +"Hell, yu' mane," corrected Slavin grimly, as he and Yorke proceeded to +divest themselves of their side-arms and unbutton their tunics. "Not +much doin' now, but--later, p'raps. . . ." + +"Just got back from Supreme Court," explained Yorke. "Gully! . . . He's +to be 'bumped off' this day-month. . . ." + +There came a long, tense silence. + +"G---d!" broke out Yorke suddenly, arousing Redmond out of the deep +reverie into which he had sunk on receipt of the news--"the look on that +Eugene Aram face of his when the jury filed in and threw the book at him! +I can't forget it somehow." + +"Well! yeh want tu thin!" remarked Slavin bluntly. "Quit ut! . . . d'ju +hear? . . . 'Tis no sort av talk, that, for a sick room. . . ." + +And hereafter they all avoided the sinister subject. + +Presently McCullough came limping in on his crutches, and ere long that +wily individual succeeded with his customary ingenuity in inveigling the +company into a facetious barrack-room argument. Later they commenced +relating racy stories. + +Slavin's deep-set eyes began to twinkle and glow, as he unburdened +himself of a lengthy narrative concerning a furlough he had spent in his +native land many years back, in which Ballymeen Races, a disreputable +"welshing" bookmaker, himself, a jug of whiskey and a blackthorn stick +were all hopelessly mixed in one grand Hibernian tangle. + +"Beat ut, he did, over hedge an' bog an' ditch, wid all our money, th' +dhirrty dog. But I cud run tu, in thim days, an' whin I caught up I +shure did play a tchune on th' nob av um!" concluded the sergeant +thoughtfully. In pursuance of his daily round of the wards, Dr. Sampson +presently came swinging in amongst them and saluted the party with his +usual breezy bonhomie. A universal favourite with the members of the +Force his entry was acclaimed with delight. They promptly bade him sit +down and contribute--à la Boccaccio--to their impromptu Decameron, which +request he (sad to relate) complied with. + +Amid the roar of laughter that greeted the Doctor's last bon mot, that +gentleman looked ruefully at his watch and prepared to depart. + +"Twenty past twelve!" he ejaculated, "and I've got four more patients to +see yet. . . ! Behold the retarding influences of bad company!" + +"Say, Doctor," enquired Yorke, "how's Hardy doing? Is he bucking up at +all? He was pretty down in the mouth last time I saw him." + +The Doctor's genial countenance clouded slightly. "Well, no!" he said, +gravely, "he's not doing well at all. I've been rather worried over him +lately. The man's relapsed into a curious state of inertia--seems +incapable of being roused. Organically he's nothing to fear now; I'll +stake my professional reputation on that. But when a man gets down like +he is now, why, the mind often reacts on the body with serious results. +If he was in a tropical climate he'd snuff out like a candle. That's all +that's retarding his otherwise certain recovery now--if we could only----" + +Here, McCullough, who had been an interested listener broke in. "Rouse +him, Doctor?" he queried, "you say he wants rousing? . . . Is that +all? . . . All right then! . . . I know him better than you do--I'll +bet you I'll rouse him!" he concluded a trifle brutally. + +And he swung off on his crutches and presently levered himself into the +ward where Hardy lay. + +In actual bodily recovery the latter's physical condition fully equalled +Redmond's, but the brooding, listless demeanor of the patient confirmed +only too well the Doctor's diagnosis. Now, sunk in the coma of utter +dejection, Hardy was lying back on his pillows like a man weary of life. + +Sometime earlier, in response to his earnest solicitations, he had been +allowed to have his beloved parrot in hospital with him. All day long +the disreputable-looking bird gabbled away contentedly as it climbed +around in its cage, which had been placed on a small table alongside the +cot. + +McCullough's first move was to resort to the never-failing expedient of +arousing the parrot's ire by puffing tobacco-smoke into its cage. +Mechanically the outraged bird responded with a shocking blast of +invective, winking rapidly its white parchment-lidded eyes and swinging +excitedly to and fro on its perch. + +Hardy admonished the joker--lethargically, but with a certain degree of +malevolence in his weary tones. + +"Aw, chack it, Mac!" he drawled. "W'y carn't yer let th' bleedin' bird +alone? Yer know 'e don't like that bein' done t'im. Jes' 'awk t'im +tellin' yer as much!" + +McCullough turned on his crutches and leered awhile upon the speaker with +a sort of mournful triumph, than he lifted up his voice in a very fair +imitation of Hardy's own unmusical wail---- + + "Old soldiers never die, never die, never die, + Old soldiers never die--they simply fade aw-ay." + +"I don't think!" he concluded _sotto voce_ to Davis, as that individual, +sitting down on the next cot began preparing his wounded arm for the +ministrations of Sister Marthe who had just entered the ward. + +"No use!" McCullough rambled on. "I tell yu' th' man's as good as 'gone +up.' Harry. . . . Well! I'll have old Kissiwasti when he pegs out +anyway. I won't half smoke-dry th' old beggar then! I'll teach him to +swear. . . !" + +"Eh! . . . 'Ere, wot abaht it?" + +The cockney's voice held no trace of lethargy now. The sharply-uttered, +vindictive query was matched by the blazing eyes which were regarding the +farrier-corporal with undisguised hostility. + +"Wot abaht wot?" mimicked McCullough, though his heart smote him for the +cold-blooded evasion. + +"Wot abaht wot you sed abaht me. . . ?" + +"Well, wot abaht it. . . ?" + +Speechless with rage, for a moment Hardy gazed into the other's +nonchalant mask-like visage, then, with a gesture of maniacal impotence, +he raised his clenched fists high above his head. + +Sister Marthe now judged it high time to intervene. During the enactment +of this little tableau she had stood looking on in mute bewilderment. +Despite her imperfect knowledge of English, and especially the +vernacular, she had a shrewd intuition of what had passed between the two +men. + +Seizing McCullough by the arm, despite his protestations of injured +innocence, she gently, but firmly, escorted him out of the ward. + +"Vas! vas!--Now you go, M'sieu McCullough! . . . out of ze ward +right-away! . . . Vat you say--vat you do--I do not know, but you 'ave +excite 'im 'orrible! . . . Oh, _pardonnez-moi_, Docteur!" she +ejaculated, as she bumped into that gentleman in the corridor. + +"Hullo!" said the latter inquiringly, as he remarked the little nurse's +flushed, angry face. "What's up, Sister Marthe?" + +For answer, that irate lady pointed accusingly to McCullough. That +worthy, his questionable experiment accomplished, was retreating up the +corridor as fast as his crutches could carry him. + +"First, Docteur," began the nurse indignantly, "'e blow smoke in ze eye +of ze parrot, then 'e turn roun' to _pauvre_ M'sieu 'Ardy an' 'e +sing--oh, I 'ave not ze English, but 'e _blaguè_ 'im so-- + + "_Vieux soldats ne meurent! jamais! jamais! jamais! + Vieux soldats ne meurent jamais!--ils simplement passent!_" + +"An' M'sieu 'Ardy 'e say: 'Vat about?' an' then 'e raise 'is two 'ands è +Ciel--so! an' 'e tell Le Bon Dieu all about it. Oh, 'ow 'e pray! +Ecoutez! Docteur! you can 'ear 'im now! . . ." + +And awhile Doctor Sampson listened, a grim smile lurking around the +corners of his firm mouth, as he leaned against the open door of the ward. + +"Praying, Sister?" he ejaculated. "It's the queerest kind of praying +I've ever heard. But is it him--or is it the parrot?" + +Two days later he remarked to the O.C. and Kilbride: "I'm glad to be able +to report a decided improvement in that man Hardy's condition. His pulse +is stronger, his appetite is increasing and--he's beginning to grouse. +That old ruffian of a farrier-corporal, McCullough, was right, begad!--he +knew the man better than I did. As a general rule I'm inclined to be +rather sceptical of such drastic experiments, but in certain cases, er--" + +"Something of the sort might be beneficial if applied to young Redmond, +too," remarked the O.C., testily. "He's down in the dumps now; though to +give him his due . . . he tries hard not to show it whenever I happen to +be in the hospital. Dudley, my Orderly-room sergeant, is leaving next +month--time-expired--so I thought I was conferring a great favour on the +boy by promising him the step-up--good staff appointment--give him a +chance to recuperate thoroughly. But no!--my young gentleman courteously +declines my munificent offer. Nothing must serve him but he must go back +to me Irish 'ginthleman' and that d----d dissipated scamp of a Yorke." + +"It's the spirit of comradeship," remarked Kilbride quietly. "If I might +suggest, Sir, . . . I think it would be better if you do decide to let +him go back there. They pull well together and do good work, those +three." + + +"'Ullo, Reddy!" called out Constable Hardy, as he directed his wobbly +steps towards the bench on the hospital balcony where George was seated, +"'ow long 'ave you bin up 'ere? Th' O.C. an' Kilbride was round jes' +now. You didn't see 'em, eh?" + +"No," answered Redmond listlessly. And thereupon he relapsed into moody +silence. + +"Wy, wot's up?" enquired Hardy presently, scanning the other's downcast +countenance. "Wot's th' matter wiv you, son? . . . you don't look +'appy! . . ." + +"You bet I'm not, either!" burst out George suddenly. "The Old Man's +offered me Dudley's job, but I don't want a staff job. I want to go back +to Davidsburg. Who cares to be stuck around the Post?" + +"Me for one!" retorted the old soldier grinning, "Jes' now, anyway. +Listen, son! Th' Old Man 'e sez to me: ''Ardy!' 'e sez, 'you've bin 'it +pretty bad and I find you deserve a softer class of dewty than goin' back +t' prisoner's escort. I think I'll recommend you for Provo'-Sorjint, in +charge o' th' Guard-room, w'en you're able t' return t' dewty,' 'e sez." + +With an effort Redmond roused himself to the point of congratulating the +Cockney upon his prospective promotion. He had no desire to act as a wet +blanket on such an auspicious occasion as this, his own troubles +notwithstanding. + +"That ain't all," continued Hardy, with a gloating chuckle. "Th' Old +Man, 'e sez 'Belt's bein' invalided, McCullough's gettin' 'is third +stripe, an' Dyvis is goin' dahn t' th' Corp'ril's Class at Regina, but +that there young Redmond worries me! I don't know wot t' do abaht 'im,' +'e sez--jes' like that--sorter kind-like--not a bit like th' O.C. o' a +Division torkin' t' a buck private. + +"'Beg yer pardon, Sir!' I sez, 'but if you let 'im go back t' Dyvidsburg +I fink 'e'll be quite contented. Seems like 'e wants t' be wiv Sorjint +Slavin an' Constable Yorke agin.' + +"'Fink so?' sez 'e, pullin' 'is oweld moustache, 'I sure do, Sir,' I sez. +'So be it, then!' 'e sez, turnin' t' Kilbride, but th' Inspector 'e sez +nothin':--'e on'y larfs. An' then they went away." + +Redmond, giving vent to a delighted oath, came out of his sulks on the +instant. + +"Hardy!" he cried, "you're a gentleman! . . ." + +"Nay!" was the other's disclaimer. "A dranken oweld soweljer, son . . . +that's all." + +But Redmond heard him not. With elbows resting upon the balcony-rail he +was looking beyond the Elbow Bridge, beyond Shagnappi Point--westwards to +Davidsburg, his face registering the supreme content of a man who had +just attained his heart's desire. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED*** + + +******* This file should be named 15940-8.txt or 15940-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/9/4/15940 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +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. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +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. + diff --git a/15940-8.zip b/15940-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e1cd5b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/15940-8.zip diff --git a/15940.txt b/15940.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..84e1fff --- /dev/null +++ b/15940.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7132 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Luck of the Mounted, by Ralph S. Kendall + + +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 www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Luck of the Mounted + A Tale of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police + + +Author: Ralph S. Kendall + +Release Date: May 30, 2005 [eBook #15940] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED + +A Tale of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police + +by + +SERGEANT RALPH S. KENDALL + +Ex-Member of the R.N.W.M.P. + +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers New York + +1920 + + + + + + + + This truest of stories confirms beyond doubt, + That truest of adages--"Murder will out!" + In vain may the blood-spiller "double" and fly, + In vain even witchcraft and sorcery try: + Although for a time he may 'scape, by-and-by + He'll be sure to be caught by a Hue and a Cry! + --THE INGOLDSBY LEGEND + + + + +TO + +MY OLD COMRADES + + +PRESENT, AND EX-MEMBERS OF THE + +R.N.W.M. POLICE + + +THIS WORK IS DEDICATED WITH EVERY KIND THOUGHT + + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + _O sing us a song of days that are gone-- + Of men and happenings--of war and peace; + We love to yarn of "th' times that was" + As our hair grows gray, and our years increase. + So--revert we again to our ancient lays-- + Fill we our pipes, and our glasses raise-- + "Salue! to those stirring, bygone days!" + Cry the old non-coms of the Mounted Police._ + MEMORIES + + +All day long the blizzard had raged, in one continuous squalling moaning +roar--the fine-spun snow swirling and drifting about the +barrack-buildings and grounds of the old Mounted Police Post of L. +Division. Whirraru!-ee!--thrumm-mm! hummed the biting nor'easter through +the cross-tree rigging of the towering flag-pole in the centre of the +wind-swept square, while the slapping flag-halyards kept up an infernal +"devil's tattoo." With snow-bound roof from which hung huge icicles, +like walrus-tusks, the big main building loomed up, ghostly and +indistinct, amidst the whirling, white-wreathed world, save where, from +the lighted windows broad streamers of radiance stabbed the surrounding +gloom; reflecting the driving snow-spume like dust-motes dancing in a +sunbeam. + +Enveloped in snow-drifts and barely visible in the uncertain light there +clustered about the central structure the long, low-lying guard-room, +stables, quartermaster's store, and several smaller adjacent buildings +comprising "The Barracks." It was a bitter February night in South +Alberta. + +From the vicinity of the guard-room the muffled-up figure of a man, with +head down against the driving blizzard, padded noiselessly with +moccasined feet up the pathway leading to the main building. Soon +reaching his destination, he dived hastily through the double storm-doors +of the middle entrance into the passage, and banged them to. + +Flanking him on either side, in welcome contrast to the bitter world +outside, he beheld the all-familiar sight of two inviting portals, each +radiating light, warmth, and good fellowship--the one on his right hand +particularly. A moment he halted irresolutely between regimental canteen +and library; then, for some reason best known to himself, he steadily +ignored both, for the time being, and passing on began slowly to mount a +short flight of stairs at the end of the passage. + +Sweet music beguiled each reluctant step of his ascent: the tinkle of a +piano accompaniment to a roaring jovial chorus from the canteen assuring +him with plaintive, but futile insistence just then, that-- + + _Beer, beer! was glorious beer, etc_. + +Reaching the landing he paused for a space in an intent listening +attitude outside the closed door of a room marked No. 3. From within +came the sounds of men's voices raised in a high-pitched, gabbling +altercation. + +Turning swiftly to an imaginary audience, his expressive young +countenance contorted into a grimace of unholy glee, the listener flung +aloft his arms and blithely executed a few noiseless steps of an +impromptu war-dance. + +"They're at it again!" he muttered ecstatically. + +Some seconds he capered thus in pantomime; then, as swiftly composing his +features into a mask-like expression, he turned the handle and entered. +On the big thermometer nailed outside the Orderly-room the mercury may +have registered anything between twenty and thirty below zero, but inside +Barrack-room No. 3 the temperature at that moment was warm enough. + +Two men, seated at either end Of a long table in the centre of the room, +busily engaged in cleaning their accoutrements, glanced up casually at +his entrance; then, each vouchsafing him a preoccupied salutory mumble, +they bent to their furbishing with the brisk concentration peculiar to +"Service men" the world over. As an accompaniment to their labours, in +desultory fashion, they kept alive the embers of a facetious wrangling +argument--their respective vocabularies, albeit more or less ensanguined, +exhibiting a fluent and masterly range of quaint barrack-room idiom and +invective. + +Both were clad in brown duck "fatigue slacks," the rolled-up sleeves of +their "gray-back" shirts disclosing the fact that the sinewy forearms of +both men were decorated with gay and fanciful specimens of the tattoo +artist's genius. A third man, similarly habited, lay stretched out, +apparently sleeping on one of the cots that were arranged around the +room. Opening his eyes he greeted the newcomer with a lethargic "'Lo, +Redmond!"; then, turning over on his side, he relapsed once more into the +arms of Morpheus--his nasal organ proclaiming that fact beyond doubt. + +The orderly aspect of the room bore mute evidence of regimental +discipline. The blankets--with the sheets placed in the centre--were +strapped into a neat roll at the head of each tartan-rugged cot, at the +foot of which lay a folded black oil-sheet. Above, on a small shelf, +were the spare uniform and Stetson hat, flanked on either side by a pair +of high brown "Strathcona" riding-boots, with straight-shanked +"cavalry-jack" spurs attached. On pegs underneath hung the regulation +side-arms,--a "Sam Browne" belt and holster containing the Colt's .45 +Service revolver. A rifle-rack at the end of the room contained its +quota of Winchester carbines. + +The last arrival, whom the sleeper had designated "Redmond," proceeded to +divest himself of his short fur coat and, after dashing the snow from it +and his muskrat-faced cap, unbuckled his side-arms, and hung all up at +the head of his own particular cot. + +Flashing across our retrospective mind-screens, as at times we dreamily +delve into the past, beloved faces come and go. Forever in the memory of +the writer, as his ideal conception of healthy, virile splendid Youth +personified, will stand the bronzed, debonair, clean-shaven young face of +George Redmond--or "Reddy," as he was more familiarly dubbed by his +comrades of L. Division. + +Handsome his countenance could not have been termed--the features were +too strongly-marked and roughly-hewn. But it was an undeniably open, +attractive and honest one--the sort of face that instinctively invited +one's "Hail, fellow, well met!" trust at first sight. His hair was dark +auburn in colour, short and wavy, with a sort of golden tinge in it; his +forehead was broad and open, and below it were two uncommonly waggish +blue eyes. His habitual expression was a mixture of nonchalant good +humour and gay insouciance, but the slightly aquiline, prominent nose and +the set of the square aggressive jaw belied in a measure the humourous +curl of the lips. + +Those who knew his disposition well were fully aware how swiftly the +mocking smile could vanish from that indolent young face on occasion--how +unpleasantly those wide blue orbs could contract beneath scowling brows +into mere pin-points of steel and ice. Slightly above middle height, +well-set-up and strongly, though not heavily made, the lines of his +clean-built figure suggested the embodiment of grace, strength and +activity. + +He was dressed in the regulation winter uniform of the Force, consisting +of a scarlet-serge tunic, dark-blue cord riding breeches with the broad +yellow stripe down the side, thick black woollen stockings reaching to +the knee, and buckskin moccasins with spurs attached. Over the +stockings, and rolled tightly down upon the tops of the moccasins as +snow-excluders, were a pair of heavy gray socks. + +Wriggling out of his tightly-fitting red serge he carelessly flung that +article onto the next cot; then, filling and lighting a pipe, he +stretched out comfortably upon his own. With hands clasped behind his +head he lazily watched the two previously-mentioned men at their cleaning +operations, his expressive face registering indolent but mischievous +interest, as he listened to their wrangling. + +"No!" resumed one of the twain emphatically, apropos of some previous +contention, "No, by gum! this division ain't what it used to be in them +days." + +He gave vent to a reminiscent sigh as he spat upon and rubbed up some +powdered brick-dust. + +"Billy Herchmer was O.C., Fred Bagley was Sergeant-Major--and there was +Harry Hetherington, Ralph Bell, De Barre, Jeb Browne, Pennycuik, and all +them old-timers. Eyah! th' times that was! th' times that was! Force's +all filled up now mostly with 'Smart Aleck' kids, like Reddy, here, +an'"--he shot a glance of calculating invitation at his vis-a-vis, +Hardy--"'old sweats' from the Old Country Imperials." + +Artfully to start some trivial but decidedly inflammable barrack-room +argument was one of Corporal Dave McCullough's pet diversions. At this +somewhat doubtful pastime he would exhibit a knowledge of human nature +and an infinite patience worthy of a better object. From some occult +reasoning of his Celtic soul the psychological moment he generally chose +as being likely the most fruitful of results was either a few minutes +before, or after "Lights Out." + +When the ensuing conflagration had blazed to the desired stage he would +quietly extinguish his own vocal torch and lie back on his cot with a +sort of "Mark Antony" "Now let it work!" chuckle. "Getting their goats" +he termed it. Usually though, when the storm of bad language and boots +had subsided, his dupes, too, like those of "Silver Street" were wont to +scratch their heads and commune one with another:-- + + --_begod, I wonder why_? + +He was a heavy-shouldered man; middle-aged, with thick, crisp iron-gray +hair and moustache and a pair of humourous brown eyes twinkling in a +lined, weather-beaten face. His slightly nasal voice was dry and +penetrating to the point of exasperation. For many years he had acted as +"farrier" to L. Division. + +George warily accepted the share of the pleasantry extended to him with a +shrug, and a non-committal grin. But Hardy chose to regard it as a +distinct challenge, and therefore a promising bone of contention. He +gloated over it awhile ere pouncing. + +A medium-sized, wiry, compactly-built man bodily, Hardy bore lightly the +weight of his forty-five years. His hair was of that uncertain sandy +colour which somehow never seems to turn gray; the edges of the +crisply-curling forelock being soaped, rolled and brushed up into that +approved tonsorial ornament known in barrack-room parlance as a "quiff." +His complexion was of that peculiar olive-brown shade especially +noticeable in most Anglo-Indians. In his smart, soldierly aspect, +biting, jerky Cockney speech and clipped, wax-pointed moustache he +betrayed unmistakably the ex-Imperial cavalry-man. + +"Old sweats!" he echoed sarcastically--he pronounced it "aoweld"--"Yas! +you go tell that t' th' Marines, me lad! . . . Took a few o' th' sime +'old sweats' t' knock ''Ay Leg!' 'Straw Leg' inter some o' you mossbacks +at th' stort orf. Gee! Har! oh, gorblimey, yas!" He illustrated his +trenchant remarks in suggestive pantomime. + +"Ah!" quoth McCullough blithely, "Yu' know th' sayin'--'Old soldier--old +stiff?' . . ." + +His adversary burnished a spur viciously. "Old pleeceman--old son of +a--" he retorted with a spiteful grin. "W'y, my old Kissiwasti here +knows more abaht drill'n wot you do." He indicated a rather +disreputable-looking gray parrot, preening itself in a cage which stood +upon a cot nearby. + +At the all-familiar sound of its name the bird suddenly ceased its +monotonous beak and claw gymnastics for a space, becoming on the instant +alertly attentive. There came a preliminary craning of neck and winking +of white-parchment-lidded eyes, and then, in shockingly human fashion it +proceeded to give voluble utterance to some startling samples of +barrack-room profanity. Its shrill invective would have awakened the +dead. The whistling, regular snores of the sleeper suddenly wound up +with a gasping gurgle; he opened his eyes and, in a strong cereal accent +gave vent to a somnolent peevish protest. + +"Losh! . . . whot wi' you fellers bickerin' an' yon damn birrd currsin' I +canna sleep! . . . gie th'--" + +But Hardy silenced him with a warning finger. + +"Sh-sh! McSporran!" he hissed in a loud eager whisper, "Jes' 'awk t' +im? . . . gort th' real reg'mental tatch 'as old Kissiwasti! ain't +he?"--his face shone with simple pride--"d' yer 'ken' that? sh-sh! listen +now! . . . Yer shud 'ear 'im s'y 'Oot, mon!' . . . 'Awk t'im up an' +tellin'yer _w'y_ th' Jocks wear th' kilts." + +Awhile McSporran listened, but with singular lack of enthusiasm. +Presently, swinging his legs over the side of the cot with a weary sigh, +he proceeded to fill his pipe. He was a thick-set, grey-eyed fair man +about thirty, with a stolid, though shrewd, clean-shaven face. + +"Best ye stickit tae wha' ye ca' 'English,' auld mon!" he remarked +irritably, "Baith yersel' an' yer plurry pairrut. . . . Ou ay, I +ken!--D'ye ken John Peel?--" + +And, in derision he hummed a few lines of a rather vulgar parody of that +ancient song that obtained around Barracks. + +"Say, by gad, though! that bird is a fright!" ejaculated George suddenly, +"Holy Doodle! just listen to what he said then? . . . If ever he starts +in to hand out tracts like that when the O.C.'s up here inspecting he'll +get invested with the Order of the 'Neck-Wring' for usurping _his_ pet +privilege. You'd better let Brankley the quartermaster have him. He was +up here the other day and heard him. He was tickled to death--said he'd +like to buy him off you, and 'top him off'--finish his education." + +"Oh, 'e did, did 'e?" growled Hardy mutinously, but with ill-concealed +interest, "Well, 'e ain't a-goin' t' 'ave 'im!" He breathed hard upon a +buckle and polished it to his satisfaction. "Brankley is some connosser +I will admit," he conceded grudgingly, "but Kissiwasti's got orl th' +'toppin orf wot's good fur 'im--dahn Regina--'e went through a reg'lar +course dahn there--took 'is degree, so t' speak. . . . I uster tike an' +'ang 'is kydge hup in that little gallery in th' ridin school of a +mornin'--when Inspector Chappell, th' ridin' master wos breakin' in a +bunch o' rookies--'toppin' orf,' wot? . . ." + +"Tchkk!" clucked McCullough wearily. "What is the use of arguin' with an +old sweat like him? . . . Hardy'll be happy enough in Hell, so long as +he can have his bloomin' old blackguard of a parrot along with him. If +he can't there will be a pretty fuss." + +"Bear up, Hardy!" comforted George. "When you've got that 'quiff' of +yours all fussed up, and those new 'square-pushin'' dress-pants on you're +some 'hot dog.' . . . Now, if I thought you could 'talk pretty' and +behave yourself I'd--" + +The old soldier grinned diabolically. "Sorjint?" he broke in mincingly +"c'n I fall out an' tork t' me sister?--garn, Reddy! wipe orf yer +chin! . . . though if I did 'appen t' 'ave a sister she might s'y th' +sime fing abaht me, now, as she might s'y abaht you--to a lydy-fren' o' +'er's, p'raps. . . ." + +"Say what?" demanded George incautiously. + +Hardy chuckled again, "'Ere comes one o' them Mounted Pleecemen, me +dear,--orl comb an' spurs,--mark time in front there. . . !" And he +emitted an imitation of a barnyard cackle. + +McCullough shot a glance at Redmond's face. "Can th' grief" he remarked +unsympathetically, "you're fly enough usually . . . but you fairly asked +for it that time." + +Hardy spat into a cuspidor with long-range accuracy. He beamed with +cheerful malevolence awhile upon his tormentors; then, uplifting a +cracked falsetto in an unmusical wail, to the tune of "London Bridge is +Falling Down," assured them that-- + + "_Old soweljers never die, never die, never die, + Old soweljers never--_" + +With infinite mockery Redmond's boyish voice struck in-- + + "_Young soldiers wish they would, wish they--_" + +"'Ere!" remonstrated Hardy darkly, "chack it, Reddy! . . . You know wot +'appens t' them as starts in, a-guyin' old soweljers?--eh?--Well, I tell +yer now!--worse'n wot 'appened t' them fresh kids in th' Bible wot mocked +th' old blowke abaht 'is bald 'ead." + +"_Isch ga bibble_! I don't care!" bawled the abandoned George; "can't be +much worse than doing 'straight duty' round Barracks, here!--same thing, +day in, day out--go and look at the 'duty detail' board--Regimental +Number--Constable Redmond, 'prisoner's escort'--punching gangs of +prisoners around all day long, on little rotten jobs about Barracks--and +'night guard' catching you every third night and--" + +"Oyez! oyez! oyez! you good men of this--" + +"Oh, yes! you can come the funny man all right, Mac--you've got a 'staff' +job. Straight duty don't affect you. Why don't they shove me out on +detachment again, and give me another chance to do real police +work? . . . I tell you I'm fed up--properly. . . . I wish I was out of +the blooming Force--I'm not 'wedded' to it, like you." + +"'Ear, 'ear!" chimed in Hardy, with a sort of miserable heartiness. +McSporran's contribution was merely a dour Scotch grin. In the moment's +silence that followed a tremendous bawling squall of wind rocked the +building to its very foundations. The back-draught of it sucked open the +door, and, borne upon its wings, the roaring, full-chorused burst of a +popular barrack-room chantey floated up the stairs from the canteen +below-- + + "_Old King Cole was a merry old soul, + And a merry old soul was he-- + He called for his pipe, and he called for his glass, + And he called for his old M.P._" + +Outside the blizzard still moaned and howled; every now and then, between +lulls, screeching gusts of sleet beat upon the windows. The parrot, +clinging upside down to the roof of its cage, winked rapidly with +Sphinx-like eyes and inclined its head sideways in an intent listening +attitude. + +"Eyah! but th' Force's a bloomin' good home to some of you, all th' +same," growled McCullough. "Listen to that 'norther'? . . . How'd you +like to be chucked out into th' cold, cold world right now?--You, Hardy! +that's never done nothin' but 'soldier' all your life--you, Reddy! with +your 'collidge edukashun'?" + +George, unmoved, listened respectfully awhile, lying on his stomach with +his chin cupped in his hands. "Must have been a great bunch of fellows +when you first took on the Force, Dave?" he queried presently. + +From sheer force of habit the old policeman glanced at his interlocutor +suspiciously. But that young gentleman's face appearing open and serene, +merely expressing naive interest, he grunted an affirmative "Uh-huh!" and +backed his conviction with a cheerful oath. + +"Ah, they sure was. But where are they all now?" he rambled on in +garrulous reminiscence, "some of 'em rich--some of 'em broke--an' many of +'em back on th' old Force again, an' glad to get their rations. There +was some that talked like you, Mister Bloomin' Reddy!--fed up, an' goin' +to quit--an' did quit--for a time. There was Corky Jones, I mind. Him +that used to blow 'bout th' wonderful jobs he'd got th' pick of when he +was 'time-ex.' All he got was 'reeve' of some little shi-poke burg down +south. Hooshomin its real name, but they mostly call it Hootch +thereabouts. A rotten little dump of 'bout fifty inhabitants. They're +drunk half th' time an' wear each other's clothes. Ugh! filthy +beggars! . . . He's back on th' Force again. There was Gadgett Malone. +Proper dog he was--used to sing 'Love me, an' th' World is Mine.' He got +all balled up with a widder, first crack out o' th' box, an' she shook +him down for his roll an' put th' skids under him in great shape inside +of a month. He's back on th' Force again. There was Barton McGuckin. +When he pulled out he shook hands all around, I mind. Yes, sir! with +tears in his eyes he did. Told us no matter how high he rose in th' +world he'd never forget his old comrades--always rec'gnize 'em on th' +street an' all that. On his way down town he was fool enough to go into +one o' these here Romany Pikey dives for to get his fortune told. This +gypsy woman threw it into him he was goin' to make his fortune in th' +next two or three days by investin' his dough in a certain brand of oil +shares. . . ." + +McCullough paused and filled his pipe with elaborate care, "Th' last time +I see him he was in th' buildin' an' contractin' line--carryin' a hod an' +pushin' an Irishman's buggy . . . There's--but, aw hell! what's th' use +o' talkin'?" he concluded disgustedly. "No! times ain't what they was, +by gum!--rough stuff an' all things was run more real reg'mental them +days--not half th' grousin' either." + +"Reel reg'mental?" echoed Hardy mincingly, "aowe gorblimey! 'awk t'im? +well, wot abaht it? I've done my bit, too!--in Injia. See 'ere; look!" + +He pulled up the loose duck-pant of his right leg. On the outside of the +hairy, spare but muscular limb, an ugly old dirty-white scar zigzagged +from knee to ankle. + +"Paythan knife," he informed them briefly, "but I did th' blowke in wot +give it me." He launched into a lurid account of a border hill-scuffle +that his regiment had been engaged in relating all its ghastly details +with great gusto. "Cleared me lance-point ten times that d'y," he +remarked laconically. "Flint was aour Orf'cer Commandin'--Old 'Doolally +Flint'--'ard old 'ranker' 'e wos. 'E'd worked us sumphin' crool that +week. Night marches an' wot not. I tell yer that man 'ad no 'eart for +men or 'orses. An' you tork ababt bein' reel reg'mental, Mac! . . . 'e +wos a reg'mental old soor if yer like! . . . Fit to drop we wos--wot wos +left o' us, an' th' bloody sun goin' down an' all. But no! 'e give us no +rest--burial fatigue right away. Free big trenches we buried aour pore +fellers in--I can see 'em now. . . ." + +For some few seconds he ceased polishing his glossy, mahogany-shaded "Sam +Browne" belt, and, chin in hand, stared unseeingly straight in front of +him. His audience waited. "Arterwards!" he cleared his throat, +"arterwards--w'en we'd filled in 'e made us put th' trimmin's on--line +'em out 'ead an' foot wiv big bowlders. I mind I'd jes kern a-staggerin' +ap wiv a big stowne for th' 'ead o' Number Free trench, but Doolally kep +me a-markin time till 'e wos ready. 'Kem ap a bit, Private 'Ardy,' 'e +sez, 'kem ap a bit! you're aht o' yer dressin'!' 'e sez. 'Arry Wagstaff, +as wos in Number Two Squordron 'e pulls a bit o' chork aht of 'is pocket, +an' 'e marks on 'is bowlder in big, fat letters 'Lucky soors--in bed +ev'ry night'--but old Doolally 'appened to turn rahnd an' cop 'im at it. +Drum-'ead coort-martial 'Arry gort for that, an' drew ten d'ys Number One +Field Punishment. But that wos old Doolally all over . . . yer might s'y +'e 'adn't no sense o' 'umor, that man. Down country we moves next d'y, +for Peshawur, where th' reg'ment lay. We'd copped a thunderin' lot o' +prisoners--th' Mullah an' all." + +"Wha' d'ye ca' a Mullah?" queried McSporran, with grave interest. + +Hardy, carbine-barrel between knees--struggled with a "pull-through." +"Mullah? well, 'e's a sorter--sorter 'ead blowke," he mumbled lamely. + +"Kind of High Priest?" ventured George. + +The old soldier beamed upon him gratefully, "Ar, that's wot I meant. 'E +stunk that 'igh th' Colonel 'e sez--" + +The storm doors banged below. "Redmond!--oh, Redmond!" The great, +booming, bass voice rang echoing up the stairway. Involuntarily they all +sprang to an attitude of alert attention. Rarely did Tom Belcher have to +speak twice around Barracks. + +"There's the S.M.!" muttered George. Aloud he responded "Coming, +Sergeant-Major!" And he swung downstairs where a powerfully-built man in +a snow and ice-incrusted fur coat awaited him. + +"The O.C.'s orders, Redmond!--get your kit packed and hold yourself in +readiness to pull out on the eleven o'clock West-bound to-morrow. You're +transferred to the Davidsburg detachment. I'll give you your +transport-requisition later." + +The storm doors banged behind him, and then, Redmond, not without design, +forced himself to saunter slowly--very slowly--upstairs again, whistling +nonchalantly the while. + +Expectant faces greeted him. "What's up?" they chorused. With a fine +assumption of indifference he briefly informed them. McSporran received +the news with his customary stolidity, only his gray eyes twinkled and he +chuntered something that was totally unintelligible to anyone save +himself. But its effect upon McCullough and Hardy was peculiar, not to +say, startling in the extreme. With brush and burnisher clutched in +their respective hands they both turned and gaped upon him fish-eyed for +the moment. Then, as their eyes met, those two worthies seemed to +experience a difficulty of articulation. + +Dumfounded himself, George looked from one to the other, "What the +devil's wrong with you fools?" he queried irritably. + +Thereupon, McCullough, still holding the eyes of the Cockney, gasped out +one magical word--"Yorkey!" + +The spell was broken. "W'y, gorblimey!" said Hardy, "Ain't that +queer?--that's jes' wot I wos a-thinkin' . . . Well, Gawd 'elp Sorjint +Slavin now!" With which cryptic utterance he resumed his eternal +polishing. + +"Amen!" responded the farrier piously, "Reddy, here, an' Yorkey on th' +same detachment. . . . What th' one don't know t'other'll teach +him. . . . You'd better let 'em have th' parrot, too." + +McSporran, back on his cot with hands clasped behind his head, gobbled an +owlish "Hoot, mon! th' twa o' them thegither! . . . Losh! but that beats +a' . . . but, hoo lang, O Lard? hoo lang?" + +From various sources George had picked up the broken ends of many strange +rumours relating to the personality and escapades of one Constable Yorke, +of the Davidsburg detachment, whom he had never seen as yet. A hint +here, a whisper there, a shrug and a low-voiced jest between the +sergeant-major and the quartermaster, overheard one day in the Matter's +store. To Redmond it seemed as if a veil of mystery had always enveloped +the person and doings of this man, Yorke. The glamour of it now aroused +all his latent curiosity. + +"Why, what sort of a chap is this Yorke?" he inquired casually. + +McCullough, busily burnishing a bit, shrugged deprecatingly and laughed. +Hardy, putting the last touches to his revolver-holster, made answer, +George thought, with peculiar reticence. + +"Wot, Yorkey? . . . oh, 'e's a 'oly terror 'e is. . . . You arst +Crampton," he mumbled--"arst Taylor--they wos at Davidsburg wiv 'im. +Slavin's orl right but Yorkey!". . . He looked unutterable things. +"Proper broken down Old Country torff 'e is, too. 'E's right there wiv +th' goods at police work, they s'y, but 'e's sure a bad un to 'ave to +live wiv. Free weeks on'y, Crampton stuck it afore 'e applied for a +transfer--Taylor, 'e on'y stuck it free d'ys." + +Redmond made a gesture of exasperation. "Ah-h! come off the perch!" he +snarled pettishly, "what sort of old 'batman's' gaff are you trying to +'get my goat' with?" + +His display of irritation drew an explosive, misthievous cachinnation +from the trio. + +"Old 'batman's' gaff?" echoed the Cockney grinning, "orl right, my fresh +cove--this time next week you'll be tellin' us wevver it's old 'batman's' +gaff, or not." + +Outside, the blizzard still moaned and beat upon the windows, packing the +wind-driven snow in huge drifts about the big main building. Inside, the +canteen roared-- + + "_Then--I--say, boys! who's for a drink with me? + Rum, tum! tiddledy-um! we'll have a fair old spree!_" + +McSporran slid off his cot with surprising alacrity. "Here's ane!" he +announced blithely. Hardy, carefully hanging up his spotless, glossy +equipment at the head of his cot, turned to the farrier who was likewise +engaged in arranging a bridle and a pipe-clayed headrope. + +"Wot abaht it, Mac?" he queried briskly. + +McCullough, in turn looked at Redmond. "All right!" responded that young +gentleman with a boyish shrug and grin, "come on then, you bloomin' old +sponges! let's wet my transfer. I'll have time to pack my kit to-morrow, +before the West-bound pulls out." + +Upon their departing ears, grown wearily familiar to its +monotonous repetition, fell the parrot's customary adieu, as that +disreputable-looking bird swung rhythmically to and fro on its perch. + +"Goo' bye!" it gabbled, "A soldier's farewell' to yeh! goo' bye! goo' +bye!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + _Homeless, ragged and tanned, + Under the changeful sky; + Who so free in the land? + Who so contented as I?_. + THE VAGABOND + + +The long-drawn-out, sweet notes of "Reveille" rang out in the frosty +dawn. Reg. No. ---- Const George Redmond, engaged at that moment in +pulling on his "fatigue-slacks" hummed the trumpet-call's time-honoured +vocal parody-- + + "_I sold a cow, I sold a cow, an' bought a donk-ee--' + Oh--what--a silly old sot you were_!" + +The room buzzed like a drowsy hive with hastily dressing men. Breathing +hotly on the frosted window-pane next his cot, George rubbed a clear +patch and glued his eye to it. The blizzard had died out during the +night leaving the snow-drifted landscape frosty, still and clear. A +rapidly widening strip of blended rose and pale turquoise on the eastern +horizon gave promise of a fine day. + +He turned away with a contented sigh and, descending the stairs, fell in +with the rest of the fur-coated, moccasined men on "Morning Stable +Parade." + +Three hours later, breakfast despatched, blankets rolled and kit and +dunnage bags packed, he received a curt summons from the sergeant-major +to attend the Orderly-room. To the brisk word of command he was +"quick-_marched_" "left-_wheeled_," and "halted" at "attention" before +the desk of the Officer Commanding L. Division. + +"Constable Redmond, Sir!" announced the deep-throated, rumbling bass of +the sergeant-major; and for some seconds George gazed at the silvery hair +and wide bowed shoulders of the seated figure in front of him, who +continued his perusal of some type-written sheets of foolscap, as if +unaware of any interruption. Elsewhere have the kindly personality and +eccentricities of Captain Richard Bargrave been described; "but that," as +Kipling says, "is another story." + +Presently the papers were cast aside, the bowed shoulders in the +splendidly-cut blue-serge uniform squared back in the chair, and Redmond +found himself being scrutinized intently by the all-familiar bronzed old +aristocratic countenance, with its sweeping fair moustache. +Involuntarily he stiffened, though his eyes, momentarily overpowered by +the intensity of that keen gaze, strayed to the level of his superior's +breast and focussed themselves upon two campaign ribbons there, +"North-West Rebellion" and "Ashantee" decorations. + +Suddenly the thin, high, cultured voice addressed +him--whimsically--sarcastic but not altogether unkindly: + +"The Sergeant-Major"--the gold-rimmed pince-nez were swung to an +elevation indicating that individual and the fair moustache was twirled +pensively--"the Sergeant-Major reports that--er--for the past six months +you have been conducting yourself around the Post with fair average"--the +suave tones hardened--"that you have wisely refrained from indulging your +youthful fancies in any more such--er--dam-fool antics, Sir, as +characterized your merry but brief career at the Gleichen detachment, +so--er--I have decided to give you another chance. I have here"--he +fumbled through some papers--"a request from Sergeant Slavin for another +man at Davidsburg. I am transferring you there. Slavin--er--damn the +man! damn the man! what's wrong with him, Sergeant-Major? . . . Two men +have I sent him in as many months, and both of 'em, after a few days +there, on some flimsy pretext or another, applied for transfers to other +detachments. Good men, too. If this occurs again--damme!"--he glared at +his subordinate--"I'll--er--bring that Irish 'ginthleman' into the Post +for a summary explanation. Wire him of this man's transfer! . . . All +right, Sergeant-Major!" + +"About-turrn!--quick-march!" growled again the bass voice of the senior +non-com; and he kept step behind George into the passage. "Here's your +transport requisition, Redmond. Now--take a tumble to yourself, my +lad--on this detachment. You're getting what 'Father' don't give to +many--a second chance. Good-bye!" + +George gripped the proffered hand and looked full into the kindly, +meaning eyes. "Good-bye, S.M.!" he said huskily, "Thanks!" + + +Westward, the train puffed its way slowly along a slight, but continual +up-grade through the foothills, following more or less the winding course +of the Bow River. Despite the cold, clear brilliance of the day, seen +under winter conditions the landscape on either side of the track +presented a rather forlorn, dreary picture. So it appeared to George, +anyway, as he gazed out of the window at the vast, spreading, +white-carpeted valley, the monotonous aspect of which was only +occasionally relieved by sparsely-dotted ranches, small wayside stations, +or when they thundered across high trestle bridges over the +partly-frozen, black, steaming river. + +Two summers earlier he had travelled the same road, on a luxurious trip +to the Coast. The memory of its scenic splendor then, the easy-going +stages from one sumptuous mountain resort to another, now made him feel +slightly dismal and discontented with his present lot. Eye-restful +solace came however with the sight of the ever-nearing glorious +sun-crowned peaks of the mighty "Rockies," sharply silhouetted against +the dazzling blue of the sky. + +Children's voices behind him suddenly broke in upon his reverie. + +"That man!" said a small squeaking treble, "was a hobo. He was sitting +in that car in front with the hard seats an' I went up to him an' I said, +'Hullo, Mister! why don't you wash your face an' shave it? we've all +washed our faces this morning' . . . . We did, didn't we, Alice?--an' +washed Porkey's too, an' he said 'Hullo, Bo! wash my face?--I don't have +to--I might catch cold.'" + +"But Jerry!" said another child's voice, "I don't think he could have +been a real hobo, or he'd have had an empty tomato-can hanging around his +neck on a string, like the pictures of 'Weary Willie' an' 'Tired Tim' in +the funny papers." + +Then ensued the sounds as of a juvenile scuffle and squawk. Master Jerry +apparently resented having his pet convictions treated in this "Doubting +Thomas" fashion, for the next thing George heard him say, was: + +"Goozlemy, goozlemy, goozlemy! . . . No! he hadn't got a tomato-can, +silly! but he'd got a big, fat bottle in his pocket an' he pulled the +cork out of it an' sucked an' I said 'What have you got in your bottle?' +an' he said 'Cold tea' but it didn't smell a bit like cold tea. There's +a Mounted Policeman sitting in that seat in front of us. Let's ask him. +Policemen always lock hoboes up in gaol an' kick them in the stomach, +like you see them in the pictures." + +The next instant there came a pattering of little feet and two small +figures scrambled into the vacant seat in front of Redmond. His gaze +fell on a diminutive, red-headed, inquisitive-faced urchin of some eight +years, and a small, gray-eyed, wistful-looking maiden, perhaps about a +year younger, with hair that matched the boy's in colour. Under one +dimpled arm she clutched tightly to her--upside-down--a fat, squirming +fox-terrier puppy. Hand-in-hand, in an attitude of breathless, +speculative awe, they sat there bolt upright, like two small gophers; +watching intently the face of the uniformed representative of the Law, as +if seeking some reassuring sign. + +It came presently--a kind, boyish, friendly smile that gained the +confidence of their little hearts at once. + +"Hullo, nippers!" he said cheerily. + +"Hullo!" the two small trebles responded. + +"What's your name, son?" + +"Jerry!" + +"Jerry what?" + +An uneasy wriggle and a moment's hesitation then--"Jeremiah!" came a +small--rather sulky--voice. + +Breathing audibly in her intense eagerness the little girl now came to +the rescue. + +"Please, policeman?" she stopped and gulped excitedly--"please, +policeman?--he doesn't like to be called that. . . . It isn't _his_ +fault. He always throws stones at the bad boys when they call him that. +Call him just 'Jerry.'" + +That gamin, turning from a minute examination of Redmond's spurred +moccasins, began to swing his chubby legs and bounce up and down upon the +cushioned seat. + +"Her name's Alice," he volunteered, with a sidelong fling of his +carrot-tinted head. "Yes! she's my sister"--he made a snatch at the pup +whose speedy demise was threatened, from blood to the head--"don't hold +Porkey that way, Alice! his eyes'll drop out." + +But his juvenile confrere shrugged away from his clutch. "Stupid!" she +retorted, with fine scorn, "no they won't . . . . it's on'y guinea pigs +that do that!--when you hold them up by their tails." Nevertheless she +promptly reversed that long-suffering canine, which immediately +demonstrated its gratitude by licking her face effusively. + +The all-important question of the hobo was next commended to his +attention, with a tremendous amount of chattering rivalry, and, with +intense gravity he was cogitating how to render a satisfactory finding to +both factions when steps, and the unmistakable rustle of skirts, sounded +in his immediate rear. Then a lady's voice said, "Oh, there you are, +children! . . . I was wondering where you'd got to." + +The two heads bobbed up simultaneously, with a joyful "Here's Mother!" +and George, turning, glanced with innate, well-bred curiosity at a stout, +pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman who stood beside them. + +"I hope these young imps haven't been bothering you?" she said. "We were +in that car behind, but I was reading and they've been having a great +time romping all over the place. Oh, well! I suppose it's too much to +expect children to keep still on a train." + +With a fond motherly caress she patted the two small flaming heads that +now snuggled boisterously against her on either side. + +"Come now! Messrs. Bubble and Squeak!" she urged teasingly, +"march!--back to our car again!" + +"Bubble and Squeak" seemed appropriate enough just then, to judge by the +many fractious objections immediately voiced by those two small +mutineers. They were loth to part with their latest acquaintance and +weren't above advertising that fact with unnecessary vehemence. Even the +puppy raised a snuffling whine. + +"Boo-hoo!" wailed Jerry, "don't want to go in the other car--me an' Alice +want to stay here--the policeman's goin' to tell us all about +hoboes--he--" + +"Oh, dear!" came a despairing little sigh, "whatever--" + +Their eyes met and, at the droll perplexity he read in hers, George +laughed outright. An explosive frank boyish laugh. He rose with a +courteous gesture. "I'm afraid it's a case of 'if the mountain won't +come to Mahomet,'" he began, with gay sententiousness. "Won't you sit +down?" + +The matron's kindly eyes appraised the bold, manly young face a moment, +then, with a certain leisurely grace, she stepped in between the seats +and, seating herself, lugged her two small charges down beside her. + +"I suppose, under the circumstances, an old woman like me can discard the +conventionalities?" she remarked smilingly. + +Jerry and Alice leered triumphantly at their victim. "Now!" Jerry +shrilled exactingly "tell us all about hoboes!" + +"They do carry empty tomato-cans, don't they?" pleaded Alice. + +It was now their guardian's turn to laugh at his dismay. "You see what +you've let yourself in for now?" she remarked. + +"Seems I am up against it," he admitted, with a rueful grin, "well! must +make good somehow, I suppose?" + +With an infinitely boyish gesture he tipped his fur cap to the back of +his head and leaned forward with finger-tips compressed in approved +story-telling fashion. + +"Once upon a time!--" a breathless "Yes-s"--those two small faces +reminded him much of terriers watching a rat-hole--"there was a hobo." +He thought hard. "He was a very dirty old hobo--he never used to wash +his face. He was walking along the road one day when he heard a little +wee voice call out 'Hey!'. He looked down and he saw an empty tomato-can +on a rubbish heap. Tomato-cans used to be able to talk in those days and +the hoboes were very good to them--always used to drink out of them and +carry them to save them from walking. This can had a picture of its big +red face on the outside. 'Give us a lift?' said the can. 'Where to?' +said the old hobo. 'Back to California, where I came from,' said the +can. 'All right!' said the old hobo, 'I'm goin' there, too.' And he +picked the can up and hung it round his neck and kept on walking till +they came to a house. The window of the house was open and they could +see a big fat bottle on a little table. 'Ah!' said the old hobo 'here's +an old friend of mine!--he's comin' with us, too,' And he shoved his arm +through the window and put the bottle in his pocket. By and by they came +to a river--'Hey!' said the can, again--'What's up?' said the old +hobo--'I'm dry,' said the can--'So am I,' said the hobo; and he dipped +the can in the water and gave it a very little drink. 'Hey!' said the +can, 'give us a drop more!'--'Wait a bit!' said the old hobo, and he +pulled the cork out of the bottle. 'Don't you pour any of that feller +into me!' said the can, 'he'll burn my inside out--an' yours--if you pour +him into me I'll open my mouth where I'm soldered and let him run out, +and you won't be able to drink out of me any more. Chuck him into the +river!--he's no good.' + +"'You shut your mouth!' said the old hobo, 'or I'll chuck you into the +river!' And he poured some of the stuff out of the bottle into the can--" + +At this exciting point poor George halted for breath and mopped his +forehead. He felt fully as thirsty as the tomato-can. But the children +were upon him, clutching his scarlet tunic: + +"What did he do then?" howled Jerry. + +"Eh?" gasped the young policeman,--"oh, he opened his mouth where he was +soldered and let the stuff run out. So the old hobo threw him into the +river. That's why hoboes always pack a bottle with them now instead of a +tomato-can." + +He leaned back with a sigh and, thrusting his hands deep into his +pockets, smiled wanly at his vis-a-vis. + +"There!" he said, with feeble triumph, "I've carried out the sentence." + +And it did him good to drink in her mirthful, waggish laugh. + +"Yes!" she conceded gaily, "you certainly did great execution, though you +look more like a prisoner just reprieved." + +Jerry, screwing up his small snub nose leered triumphantly across her lap +at Alice. "Goozlemy, goozlemy, goozlemy!" he squeaked, "that man was a +real hobo." + +His grimace was returned with interest. Alice hugged her puppy awhile +contentedly, murmuring in that canine's ear, "What a silly old thing that +tomato-can must have been. If I'd been him I'd have kept my mouth shut." + +"Cow Run!" intoned the brakeman monotonously, passing through the +coaches, "Cow Run next stop!" His eye fell on Redmond. "Wish I'd seen +you before, Officer!" he remarked, "I'd have had a hobo for you. Beggar +stole a ride on us from Glenbow, back there. The con's goin' to chuck +him off here--do you want him?" + +"No!" said Redmond shortly, "let the stiff go--I'm going on to +Davidsburg--haven't got time to get messing around with 'vags' now." + +The train began to slow down and presently stopped at a small station. +Mechanically the quartette gazed through the window at the few shivering +platform loungers, and beyond them to the irregular, low-lying facade of +snow-plastered buildings that comprised the dreary main street of the +little town. + +Suddenly the children uttered a shrill yelp. + +"There he is!" cried Alice, darting a small finger at the window-pane. + +"I saw him first!" bawled Jerry. + +And, slouching past along the platform, all huddled-up with hands in +pockets, George beheld a ragged nondescript of a man whose appearance +confirmed Master Jerry's previous assertion beyond doubt. + +The children drummed on the window excitedly. Glancing up at the two +small peering faces the human derelict's red-nosed, stubble-coated visage +contorted itself into a friendly grimace of recognition; at the same +time, with an indescribably droll, swashbuckling swagger he doffed a +shocking dunghill of a hat. + +Suddenly though his jaw dropped and, replacing his battered headpiece, +with double-handed indecent haste the knight of the road executed an +incredibly nimble "right-about turn" and vanished behind the +station-house. Just then came the engine's toot! toot!, the conductor's +warning "All aboar-rd!" and the train started once more on its journey +westward. + +Smiling grimly to himself, the policeman settled back in his seat again +and glanced across at the lady. She was shaking with convulsive laughter. + +"Oh!" she giggled hysterically "he--he must have seen your red coat!" +another spasm of merriment, "it was as good as a pantomime," she murmured. + +Evincing a keen interest in his soldierly vocation, for awhile she +subjected him to an exacting and minute inquisition anent the duties and +life of a Mounted Policeman. In this agreeable fashion the time passed +rapidly and it was with a feeling of regret that he heard the brakeman +announce his destination and rose to take leave of his pleasant +companion. The children insisted on bidding their late chum a cuddling, +osculatory farewell--Alice tearfully holding up the snuffling Porkey for +his share. The train drew up at the Davidsburg platform, there came a +chorus of "Good-byes" and a few minutes later George was left alone with +his kit-bags on the deserted platform. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + _St. Agnes' Eve. Ah! bitter chill it was. + The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; + The hare limped, trembling, through the frozen grass; + And drowsy was the flock in woolly fold_. + ST. AGNES' EVE + + +Edmond did not have to wait long. Sounding faint and far off came the +silvery ring of sleigh-bells, gradually swelling in volume until, with a +measured crunch! crunch! of hoofs on packed snow, a smart Police cutter, +drawn by a splendid bay team, swung around a bend of the trail and pulled +up at the platform. Redmond regarded with a little awe the huge, +bear-like, uniformed figure of the teamster, whom he identified at once +from barrack gossip. + +"Sergeant Slavin?" he enquired respectfully, eyeing the bronzed, +clean-shaven face, half hidden by fur cap and turned-up collar. + +"Meself, lad!" came a rich soft brogue, "I was afther gettin' a wire from +th' O.C., tellin' me he was thransfering me another man. Yer name's +Ridmond, ain't it?---Whoa, now! T an' B!--lively wid thim kit-bags, +son!--team's pretty fresh an' will not shtand." + +They swung off at a spanking trot. George surveyed the white-washed +cattle-corrals and few scattered shacks which seemed to comprise the +hamlet of Davidsburg. + +"Not a very big place, Sergeant?" he remarked, "how far's the detachment +from here?" + +"On'y 'bout a mile" grunted the individual, squirting a stream of +tobacco-juice to leeward, "up on the high ground beyant. Nay! 'tis just +a jumpin' off place an' shippin' point for th' ranches hereabouts. +Business is mostly done at Cow Run--East. Ye passed ut, comin'. Great +doin's there--whin th' cowpunchers blow in. Some burg!" + +"Sure looked it!" Redmond agreed absently, thinking of the casual glimpse +he had got of the dreary main street. + +They were climbing a slight grade. The sun-glare on the snow was +intense; the cutter's steel runners no longer screeched, and the team's +hoofs began to clog up with soft snow. + +"They're 'balling-up' pretty bad, Sergeant!" remarked Redmond. And, as +he spoke the "off" horse suddenly slipped and fell, and, plunging to its +feet again, a leg slid over the cutter's tongue. + +"Whoa, now! whoa!" barked Slavin, with an oath, as the mettled, +high-strung animal began to kick affrightedly. Slipping again it sank +down in the snow and remained still for some tense moments. + +Like a flash Redmond sprang from the cutter, and rapidly and warily he +unhooked the team's traces. This done he crept to their heads and +slipped the end of the tongue out of the neck-yoke ring. Slavin by this +time was also on his feet in the snow, with the situation well in hand. +He clucked softly to his team, the fallen horse plunged to its feet again +and the next moment all was clear. George, burrowing around in the snow +unearthed a big stone, with which he proceeded to tap the team's shoes +all round until the huge snow-clogs fell out. In silence the two men +hooked up again and were soon on their way. + +"H-mm!" grunted the big Irishman at last, eyeing his subordinate with a +sidelong glance of approval, "h-mm! teamster?" + +"Oh, I don't know, Sergeant" responded Redmond deprecatingly, "of course +I've been around teams some--down East, on the old man's farm. . . I +don't know that I can claim to be a real teamster--as you judge them in +the Force." + +"H-mm!" grunted Slavin again, "ye seem tu have th' makin's anyway." He +expectorated musingly. "Wan time--down at Coutts 'twas--a young feller +was sint tu me for tu dhrive. Mighty chipper gossoon, tu. 'Teamster?' +sez I--'Some!' sez he, as if he was a reg'lar gun at th' business--'but +I'm gen'rally reckoned handier wid a foursome 'n a single team.'" + +"'Oh!' sez I, 'fwhere?' An' he tould me--Regina. Sez I thin ''tis +Skinner Adams's undershtudy ye must have bin?--for he was Reg'mentil +Teamster Sarjint there, an' sure fwas a great man wid a four-in-hand +team.'" + +"'Fwat, ould Skinner Adams?' sez me bould lad, kind av contempshus-like, +'Humph! at shtringin' out four I have Skinner Adams thrimmed tu a peak.' +We was dhrivin' from th' station tu th' detachmint--same like tu we're +doin' now. Whin we gits in I unhitches an' puts up th' team. 'Give us a +hand tu shling th' harniss off!' sez I tu him--an' me shmart Aleck makes +a shtab at ut wid th' nigh horse. He was not quite so chipper--thin, an' +I noticed his hands thremblin', an' he was all th' time watchin' me close +how I did wid th' off harse. I dhraws off wid th' britchin' on me +arrum--'Come!' sez I--an' he shtarts in--unbucklin' th' top hame-shtrap. + +"'As ye were!' sez I 'that's enough! I'm thinkin' th' on'y 'four' you +iver shtrung out me young flapdhoodle was a gang av prisoners, an' +blarney me sowl! ye shall go back tu th' Post right now, an' du +prisoner's escort agin for awhile.'" + +They had now reached the top of the grade where the trail swung due east, +and faced a dazzling sun and cutting wind which whipped the blood to +their cheeks and made their eyes water. + +"Behould our counthry eshtate!" said Sergeant Slavin grandiloquently, +with an airy wave of his arm, "beyant that big pile av shtones on th' +road-allowance." + +He chirped to his team which broke into an even, fast trot, and presently +they drew up outside a building typical in its outside appearance of the +usual range Mounted Police detachment. It was a fairly large dwelling, +roughly but substantially-built of squared logs, painted in customary +fashion, with the walls--white, and the shingled roof--red. A +strongly-guyed flagstaff jutting out from one gable, and copies of the +"Game" and "Fire Acts" tacked on the door gave the abode an unmistakable +official aspect. Over the doorway was nailed a huge, prehistoric-looking +buffalo-skull, bleached white with the years--the time-honoured insignia +of the R.N.W.M.P. being a buffalo-head, which is also stamped on the +regimental badge and button. + +Dumping off the kit-bags, the two men drove round to the stable in the +rear of the main dwelling, where they unhitched and put up the team. The +sergeant led the way into the house. Passing through a small store-house +and kitchen they emerged into the living room. On a miniature scale it +was a replica of one of the Post barrack-rooms, except that the table +boasted a tartan-rugged covering, that two or three easy chairs were +scattered around, and some calfskin mats partially covered the painted +hardwood floor. The walls, for the most part were adorned with many +unframed copies of pictures from the brush of that great Western artist, +Charles Russell, and black and white sketches cut from various +illustrated papers. Three corners of the room contained cots, one of +which the sergeant assigned to Redmond. The room, with its big stove, in +a way looked comfortable enough, and was regimentally neat and clean and +homelike. + +George peered into the front room beyond which bore quite a judicial +aspect. At one end of it a small dais supported a severe-looking +arm-chair and a long flat desk, on which were piled foolscap, blank legal +forms, law-books, and the Bible. In front was a long, form-like bench, +with a back to it. At the rear of the room were two strongly-built +cells, with barred doors. Around the walls were scattered a double row +of small chairs and, on a big, green-baize-covered board next the cells +hung a brightly burnished assortment of handcuffs and leg-irons. + +"'Tis here we hould coort," Slavin informed him, "whin we have any +shtiffs tu be thried." + +Opening the front door George lugged in his bedding and kit-bags and, +depositing them on his cot, flung off his fur coat, cap, and serge. +Slavin divested himself likewise and, as the burly, bull-necked man stood +there, slowly filling his pipe, Redmond was able to scan the face and +massive proportions of his superior more closely. + +Standing well over six feet, for the presentment of vast, though +perchance clumsy, gorilla-like strength, George reflected with slight awe +that he had never seen the man's equal. His wide-spreading shoulders +were more rounded than square; his deep, arching chest, powerful, stocky +nether limbs and disproportionately long, huge-biceped arms seeming to +fit him as an exponent of the mat rather than the gloves. Truly a +daunting figure to meet in a close-quarter, rough-and-tumble encounter! +thought Redmond. The top of his head was completely bald; his thick, +straight black brows indicating that what little close-cropped iron-gray +hair remained must originally have been coal-black in colour. His +Irish-blue eyes, alternately dreamy and twinklingly alert, were deeply +set in a high-cheeked-boned, bronzed face, with a long upper-lipped, +grimly-humorous mouth. Its expression in repose gave subtle warning that +its owner possessed in a marked degree the strongly melancholic, +emotional, and choleric temperament of his race. There was no +moroseness--no hardness in it, but rather the taciturnity that invariably +settles upon the face of those dwellers of the range who, perforce, live +much alone with their thoughts. Sheathed in mail and armed, that face +and bulky figure to some imaginations might have found its prototype in +some huge, grim, war-worn "man-at-arms" of mediaeval times. Redmond +judged him to be somewhere in his forties; forty-two was his exact age as +he ascertained later. + +In curious contrast to his somewhat formidable exterior seemed his mild, +gentle, soft-brogued voice. And with speech, his taciturn face relaxed +insensibly into an almost genial expression, George noted. + +Attracted by a cluster of pictures and photographs above and around the +cot in the corner opposite his own, the young fellow crossed over and +scanned them attentively. Tacked up with a random, reckless hand, the +bizarre collection was typically significant of someone's whimsical, +freakish tastes and personality. From the sublime to the ridiculous--and +worse--subjects pious and impious, dreamily-beautiful and lewdly-vulgar, +comic and tragic, also many splendid photographs were all jumbled +together on the walls in a shockingly irresponsible fashion. Many of the +pictures were unframed copies cut apparently from art and other journals; +from theatrical and comic papers. + +George gazed on them awhile in utterly bewildered astonishment; then, +with a little hopeless ejaculation, swung around to the sergeant who met +his despairing grin with benign composure. + +"Whose cot's--" + +"'Tis Yorke's," said Slavin simply. It was the first time he had +mentioned that individual's name. He struck a match on the seat of his +pants and standing with his feet apart and hands clasped behind his back +smoked awhile contentedly. + +"Saw ye iver th' like av that for divarsiment?" he continued, with a wave +of his pipe at the heterogeneous array, "shtudy thim! an', by an' large +ye have th' man himsilf. He's away on pay-day duty at th' Coalmore mines +west av here--though by token, 'tis Billy Blythe at Banff shud be doin' +ut, 'stead av me havin' tu sind a man from here. He shud be back on +Number Four th' night." + +His twinkling orbs under their black smudge of eyebrow appraised the +junior constable with faint, musing interest. "A quare chap is Yorkey," +he continued gently--shielding a match-flame and puffing with noisy +respiration--"a good polisman--knows th' Criminal Code from A tu Z--eyah! +but mighty quare. I misdoubt how th' tu av yez will get along." He +sighed deeply, muttering half to himself, "I may have tu take +shteps--this time! . . ." + +A rather ominous beginning, thought George. But, curbing his natural +curiosity, he resolutely held his peace, awaiting more enlightenment. +This not being forthcoming--his superior having relapsed once more into +taciturn silence--he turned again to Yorke's exhibits with pondering +interest. Sounding far-off and indistinct in the frosty stillness of the +bleak foothills came the faint echoes of a coyote's shrill +"ki-yip-yapping"--again and again, as if endeavouring to convey some +insidious message. George continued to stare at the pictures. Gad! what +a strange fantastic mind the man must have! he mused--what rotten, +erratic desecration to shove pictures indiscriminately together like +that! . . . Lack of space was no excuse. Millet's "Angelus," "Ally +Sloper at the Derby," a splendid lithograph of "The Angel of Pity at the +Well of Cawnpore," Lottie Collins, scantily attired, in her song and +dance "Tara-ra-ra-boom-de-ay," Sir Frederick Leighton's "Wedded," a +gruesome depiction of a Chinese execution at Canton, an old-fashioned +engraving of that dashing, debonair cavalry officer, "Major Hodson," of +Indian Mutiny fame, George Robey, as a nurse-maid, wheeling Little Tich +in a perambulator, the grim, torture-lined face of Slatin Pasha, a +ridiculously obscene picture entitled "Two coons scoffing oysters for a +wager," that glorious edifice the "Taj Mahal" of India, and so on. +"Divarsiment" indeed! + +To this ill-assorted admixture three exceptions only were grouped with +any sense of reason. The central picture was a beautifully coloured +reproduction of Sir Hubert Herkomer's famous masterpiece "The Last +Muster." Lovers of art subjects are doubtless familiar with this +immortal painting. It depicts a pathetic congregation of old, +white-haired, war-worn pensioners attending divine service in the chapel +of Old Chelsea Hospital, with the variegated lights from the +stained-glass windows flooding them with soft gentle colours. Flanking +it on either side were portraits of the original founders of this +historical institution in 1692--Charles II (The Merry Monarch) and his +kindly-hearted "light o' love" Sweet Nell Gwynn of Old Drury. + +With curiously mixed feelings George finally tore himself away from +Yorke's pathetically grotesque attempt at wall-adornment. Strive as he +would within his soul to ridicule, the pictures seemed somehow almost to +shout at him with hidden meaning. As if a voice--a drunken voice, but +gentlemanly withall--was hiccuping in his ear: "Paradise Lost, old man! +(hic) Paradise Lost!" + +And, mixed with it, came again out of the silence of the foothills the +coyote's faintly persistent mocking wail--its "ki-yip-yap" sounding +almost like "Bah! Yah! Baa!" . . . Some lines of an old quotation, +picked up he knew not where, wandered into his mind-- + + _Comedy, Tragedy, Laughter and Tears! + Thou'rt rolled as one in the Dust of Years_! + +With a sigh he turned to his own cot and began to unpack and arrange his +kit; in regulation fashion, and with such small faddy fixings customary +to men inured to barrack life. Thus engaged the time passed rapidly. +Later in the day he assisted the sergeant in making out the detachment's +"monthly returns" and diary. This task accomplished, in the gathering +dusk he attended "Evening Stables." There were two saddle-horses beside +the previously-mentioned team. A splendid upstanding pair, George +thought them. He was good with horses; possessing the faculty of +handling them that springs only from a patient, kindly, instinctive love +of animals. + +"Nay! I dhrive mostly," Slavin was telling him, "buckboard an' team's +away handier for a man av weight like meself. Eyah!" he sighed, "tho' +time was whin I cud throw a leg over wid th' best av thim. Yorke--he +gen'rally rides th' black, Parson, so ye'll take th' sorrel, Fox, for yeh +pathrols. He's a good stayer, an' fast. Ye'll want tu watch him at +mounthin' tho'--he's not a mane harse, but he has a quare thrick av +turnin' sharp tu th' 'off'--just as ye go tu shwing up into th' saddle. +Many's th' man he's whiraroo'd round wid wan fut in th' stirrup an' left +pickin' up dollars off th' bald-headed.' Well! let's tu supper." + +With the practised hand of an old cook he prepared a simple but hearty +repast, upon which they fell with appetites keenly edged with the cold +air. + +"Are ye anythin' av a cuk?" + +Redmond grinned deprecatingly and then shook his head. + +"Eyah!" grumbled Slavin, "seems I cannot hilp bein' cuk an' shtandin' +orderly-man around here. I thried out Yorkey. . . . Wan day on'y +tho'--'tis th' divil's own cuk he is. 'Sarjint!' sez he, 'I'm no +bowatchee'--which in Injia he tells me means same as cuk. An' he tould +th' trute at that." + +Some three hours later, as they lay on their cots, came to them the +faint, far-off _toot_! _toot_! of an engine, through the keen atmosphere. + +"That's Number Four from th' West," remarked Slavin drowsily, "Yorkey +shud be along on ut. Well! a walk will not hurt th' man if--" + +He chuntered something to himself. + +Half an hour elapsed slowly--three quarters. Slavin rolled off his cot +with a grunt and strode heavily to the front door, which he opened. +Redmond silently followed him and together the two men stepped out into +the crisply-crunching hard-packed snow. It was a magnificent night. +High overhead in the star-studded sky shone a splendid full moon, its +clear cold rays lighting up the white world around them with a sort of +phosphorescent, scintillating brilliance. + +Though not of a particularly sentimental temperament, the calm, peaceful, +unearthly beauty of the scene moved George to murmur--half to himself: + + "_Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, + That dost not bite so nigh + As benefits forgot, alas! + As benefits forgot_." + +To his surprise came Slavin's soft brogue echoing the last lines of the +old Shakespearian sonnet, with a sort of dreamy, gentle bitterness: "As +binifits forghot--forghot!--as binifits forghot! . . . . Luk tu that +now! eyah! 'tis th' trute, lad! . . . . for here--unless I am mistuk, +comes me bould Yorkey--an' dhrunk as 'a fiddler's ---- again. Tchkk! an' +me on'y just afther warnin' um. . . ." + +And, a far-away black spot as yet, down the moonlit, snow-banked trail, +indistinctly they beheld an unsteady figure slowly weaving its way +towards the detachment. At intervals the night-wind wafted to them +snatches of song. + +"Singin', singin'," muttered Slavin, "from break av morrn 'till jewy +eve! . . . Misther B---- Yorke! luks 'tis goin' large y'are th' night." + +Nearer and nearer approached the stumbling black figure, weaving an +eccentric course in and out along the line of telephone poles; and, to +their ears came the voice of one crying in the wilderness:-- + + "_O, the Midnight Son! the Midnight Son! (hic) + You needn't go trottin' to Norway-- + You'll find him in ev'ry doorway--_" + +A sudden cessation of the music, coupled with certain slightly +indistinct, weird contortions of the vocalist's figure, apprised the +watchers that a snow-bank had momentarily claimed him. Then, suddenly +and saucily, as if without a break, the throbbing, high-pitched tenor +piped up again-- + + "_You'll behold him in his glory + If you on'y take a run (hic) + Down the Strand--that's the Land + Of the Midnight Son_." + +Dewy eve indeed!--a far cry to the Strand! . . . How freakish sounded +that old London variety stage ditty ridiculing the nightly silence of the +great snow-bound Nor' West. Redmond could not refrain an explosive, +snorting chuckle as he remarked the erratic gait of the slowly +approaching pedestrian. As Slavin had opined, he was "going large." His +vocal efforts had ceased temporarily, and now it was the junior +constable's merriment that broke the frosty stillness of the night. + +But Slavin did not laugh. Watchfully he waited there--curiously still, +his head jutting forward loweringly from between his huge shoulders. + +"Tchkk!" he clucked in gentle distaste--"In uniform . . . an' just afther +comin' off the thrain! . . . th' like av that now 'tis--'tis +scandh'lus! . . ." + +Suddenly Redmond shivered, and his mirth died within him. The air seemed +to have become charged with a tense, ominous something that filled him +with a great dread--of what? he knew not. He felt an inexplicable +impulse to cry out a warning to that ludicrous figure, whose crunching +moccasins were now the only sounds that broke the uncanny stillness of +the night. To him, the whole scene, bathed in the cold brilliance of its +moonlit setting, seemed ghostly and unreal--a disturbing dream of comedy +and tragedy, intermingled. + +Inwards, between the telephone poles, the man came stumbling along, +gradually drawing nigh to the motionless watchers. Halting momentarily, +during his progress he made a quick stooping action at the base of one of +the poles, as if with vague purpose, which action was remarked at least +by Redmond. + +Then, for the first time, he seemed to become aware of their presence, +and making a pitiful attempt to dissemble his condition and assume a +smart, erect military carriage he waved his riding-crop at them by way of +salutation. Something in his action, its graceful, airy mockery, trivial +though it was, impressed the gestures firmly in Redmond's mind. He +became cognizant of a flushed, undeniably handsome face with reckless +eyes and mocking lips; a slimly-built figure of a man of medium height, +whose natural grace was barely concealed by the short regimental fur coat. + +Halting unsteadily within the regulation three paces pending salute, he +struck an attitude commonly affected by Mr. Sothern, in "Lord Dundreary," +and jauntily twirled his crop, the while he declaimed:-- + + "_Waltz me round again, Willie, Willie, + Round and round and--_" + +"_Round_!" finished Slavin, with a horrible oath. There seemed something +shockingly aboriginal--simian--in the swift, gorilla-like clutch of his +huge dangling hands, as they fastened on the throat and shoulder of the +drunken man and whirled him on his back in the snow--something deadly and +menacing in his hard-breathing, soft-brogued invective: + +"Yeh bloody nightingale! come off th' perch! . . . I'm fed up wid +yeh!--I'll waltz yeh!--I'll tache yeh tu make a mock av Burke Slavin, +time an' again! I'll--" + +Redmond interposed, "Steady, Sergeant!" he implored shakily, his hand on +his superior's shoulder, "For God's sake--" + +But Slavin, in absent fashion, shoved him off. He seemed to put no +effort in the movement, but the tense muscular impact of it sent Redmond +reeling yards away. + +"Giddap, Yorkey! God d----n ye for a dhrunken waster!--giddap! or I'll +put th' boots tu yeh!" Terrible was the menace of the giant Irishman's +face, his back-flung boot and his snarling, curiously low-pitched voice. + +"No! not Burke, old man! . . . ah, don't!" gasped the rich tenor voice +pleadingly from the snow--"ah, don't, Burke! . . . remember, +remember . . . St. Agnes' Eve-- + + "St. Agnes' Eve. Ah! bitter chill it was, + The--" + +It broke--that throbbing voice with its strange, impassioned appeal. Far +away over the snow the faint, silvery ring of a locomotive gong fell upon +the ears of the trio almost like the deep, solemn tolling of bells. + +Then slowly, and seemingly in pain, the prostrate man arose. + +And yet! Redmond mused, sorry a figure as he cut just then, minus +fur-cap and plastered with snow, alone with the shame which was his, he +had an air, a certain dignity of mien, this man, Yorke, which stamped him +far above the common run of men. + +The junior constable, as he noted the dark hair, silvering and worn away +at the temples, adjudged him to be somewhere between thirty and +forty--thirty-five was his exact age as he ascertained later. + +Now, with the air of a fallen angel, he stood there in the cold, +snow-dazzling moonlight; his face registering silent resignation as to +whatever else might befall him. The sergeant had stepped forward. +Redmond looked on, in dazed apprehension. A solemn hush had fallen upon +the strange scene, and stranger trio. Their figures flung weird, +fantastic shadows across the diamond-sparkling snow-crust. George +glanced at Slavin, and that individual's demeanor amazed him still +further. The big man's face was transformed. There seemed something +very terrible just then in the pathetic working of his rugged features, +as if he were striving to allay some powerful inward emotion. Then +huskily, but not unkindly--as perchance the father may have spoken to the +prodigal son--came his soft brogue: + +"Get yu tu bed, Yorkey! get yu tu bed, man! . . . an' thry me no +more! . . . ." + +Mutely, like a child, Yorke obeyed the order. Glancing at Redmond he +turned and walked unsteadily into the detachment. + +Perturbed and utterly mystified at the sordid drama he had witnessed, its +amazing combination of brutality and pathos, George remained rooted to +the spot as one in a dream. Instinctively though, he felt that this was +not the first time of its enactment. Mechanically he watched the door +close; then sounding far off and indistinct, Slavin's hoarse whisper in +his ear brought him down to Mother Earth again with a vengeance: + +"Did ye mark him stoop an' 'plant' th' 'hootch?'" + +George nodded. "I wasn't quite wise to what he was at," he answered. + +"Let us go get ut!" said Sergeant Slavin grimly, marching to the spot, "I +will not have dhrink brought into th' detachment! . . . 'tis against +ordhers." + +He bent down, straightened up, and turning to Redmond who had joined him +exhibited a bottle. He held it up to the light of the moon. It appeared +to be about half empty. Extracting the cork, he smelt. + +"'Tis whiskey," he murmured simply--much as Mr. Pickwick said: "It is +punch." He made casual examination of the green and gold label. +"'Burke's Oirish,' begob! . . . eyah! a brave ould uniform but"--he +turned a moist eye on his subordinate--"a desp'ritly wounded souldier +that wears ut--betther out av pain. 'Tis an' ould sayin': 'Whin ye meet +th' divil du not turn tail but take um by th' harns.' . . . Bhoy! I +thrust the honest face av yeh--I have tuk tu ye since th' handy lad ye +showt yersilf with that team mix-up th' morn." + +Redmond, mollified, grinned shiveringly. "I don't mind a snort, +Sergeant," he said, "it's d----d cold out here. Beer's more in my line +though. Salue!" + +He took a swallow or two; the bottle changed hands. + +"Eyah!" remarked Slavin sometime later--cuddling the bottle at the "port +arms." "'Tis put th' kibosh on many a good man in th' ould Force has +this same dhrink. Th' likes av Yorkey there"--he jerked his head at the +lighted window--"shud never touch ut--never touch ut! . . . Cannot +flirrt wid a bottle--'tis wedded they wud be tu ut. Now meself"--he +paused impressively--"I can take me dhrink like a ginthleman--can take +ut, or lave ut alone." + +Absorptive demonstration followed. Came a long-drawn, smacking "Ah-hh!" +"A sore thrial tu me is that same man," he resumed, "wan more break on +his part, as ye have seen this night . . . an' I musht--I will take +shteps wid um." + +"Why don't you transfer him back to the Post?" queried George, +wonderingly, mindful of how swiftly that disciplinary measure had +rewarded his own reckless conduct at the Gleichen detachment. "He's got +nothing on you, has he?" + +"_Fwhat_?" . . . Slavin, turning like a flash, glared sharply at him out +of deep-set scowling eyes, "Fwhat?" + +Tonelessly, George repeated his query, + +Slavin's glare gradually faded. "Eyah!" he affirmed presently, "he +has! . . ." came a long pause--"but not as yu mane ut . . . oh! begorrah, +no!" His eyes glittered dangerously and his wide mouth wreathed into an +unholy grin, "'Tis a shmart man that iver puts ut over on me at th' +Orderly-room. . . Fwhy du I not sind him into th' Post? . . . eyah! fwhy +du I not? . . ." + +Chin sunk on his huge chest, he mused awhile. + +George waited. + +"Listen, bhoy!" A terrible earnestness crept into the soft voice. "I'll +tell ye th' tale. . . . 'Twas up at th' Chilkoot Pass--in the gold rush +av '98. . . . Together we was--Yorkey an' meself--stationed there undher +ould Bobby Belcher. Wan night--Mother av God! will I iver forghet ut? +Bitther cowld is th' Yukon, lad; th' like av ut yu' here in Alberta du +not know. Afther tu crazy lost _cheechacos_ we had been that day. We +found thim--frozen. . . . A blizzard had shprung up, but we shtrapped +th' stiffs on th' sled an' mushed ut oursilves tu save th' dogs. + +"I am a big man, an' shtrong . . . . but Yorkey was th' betther man av us +tu that night--havin less weight tu pack. I was all in--dhrowsy, an' +wanted tu give up th' ghost an' shleep--an' shleep. . . . Nigh unto +death I was. . . ." + +The murmuring voice died away. A shudder ran through the great frame at +the remembrance, while the hand clutching the bottle trembled violently. +Unconsciously Redmond shook with him; for the horror Slavin was living +over again just then enveloped his listener also. + +"But Yorkey," he continued "wud not let me lie down. . . . God! how that +man did put his fishts an' mucklucks tu me an' pushed an' shtaggered wid +me' afther th' dogs, beggin' an' cursin' an' prayin' an' callin' me names +that ud fairly make th' dead relations av a man rise up out av their +graves. . . . Light-headed he got towards th' ind av th' thrail, poor +chap! shoutin' dhrill-ordhers an' Injia naygur talk, an' singin' great +songs an' chips av poethry--th' half av which I misremimber--excipt +thim--thim wurrds he said this night. 'Shaint Agnus Eve,' he calls ut. +Over an' over he kept repeathin' thim as he helped me shtaggerin' +along. . . 'God!' cries he, betune cursin' me an' th' dogs an' singin' +'Shaint Agnus Eve'--'Oh, help us this night! let us live, God! . . . oh, +let us live!--this poor bloody Oirishman an' me! . . .'" + +The sergeant's head was thrown back now, gazing full at the evening star +the moonbeams shining upon his upturned, powerful face. Cold as was the +night Redmond could see glistening beads of sweat on his forehead. As +one himself under the spell of the fear of death, the younger man +silently watched that face--fascinated. It was calm now, with a great +and kindly peace. Slowly the gentle voice took up the tale anew: + +"We made ut, bhoy--th' Post--or nigh tu ut . . . in th' break av th' +dawn. . . . For wan av th' dogs yapped an' they come out an' found us in +th' snow. . . . Yorkey, wid his arrums round th' neck av me--as if he +wud shtill dhrag me on . . . . an' cryin' upon th' mother that bore +um. . . . Tu men--in damned bad shape--tu shtiffs . . . . an' but three +dogs lift out av th' six-team we'd shtarted wid. . . . So--now ye know; +lad! . . . Fwhat think ye? . . ." + +What George thought was: "Greater love hath no man than this." What he +said was: "He's an Englishman, isn't he?" + +Slavin nodded. "Comes of a mighty good family tu, they say, but 'tis +little he iwer cracks on himself 'bout thim. Years back he hild a +commission in some cavalry reg'mint in Injia, but he got broke--over a +woman, I fancy. He's knocked about th' wurrld quite a piece since thin. +Eyah! he talks av some quare parts he's been in. Fwhat doin'? Lord +knows. Been up an' down the ladder some in _this_ outfit--sarjint one +week--full buck private next. Yen know th' way these ginthlemin-rankers +run amuck?" + +"How does he get away with it every time?" queried Redmond. "Hasn't any +civilian ever reported him to the old man?" + +"Yes! wance--an' 'Father,' th' ould rapparee! he went for me baldheaded +for not reporthin' ut tu." + +With a sort of miserable heartiness Slavin cursed awhile at the +recollection. "Toime an' again," he resumed, "have I taken my hands tu +um--pleaded wid um, an' shielded um in many a dhirty scrape, an' ivry +toime sez he, wid his ginthlemin's shmile: 'Burke! will ye thry an' +overlook it, ould man?' . . . Eyah! he's mighty quare. For some rayson +he seems tu hate th' idea av a third man bein' here, tho' th' man' wud +die for me. Divil a man can I kape here, anyway. In fwhat fashion he +puts th' wind up 'him, I do not know; they will not talk, out av pure +kindness av heart an' rispict for meself, I guess. But--a few days here, +an' bingo!--they apply for thransfer. Now ye know ivrythin', bhoy--fwhat +I am up against, an' fwhy I will not 'can' Yorkey. Ye've a face that +begets thrust--do not bethray ut, but thry an' hilp me. Bear wid Yorke +as best ye can--divilmint an' all--for my sake, will yeh?" + +Not devoid of a certain simple dignity was the grim, rugged face that +turned appealingly to the younger man's in the light of the moon. + +And Redmond, smiling inscrutably into the deep-set, glittering eyes, +answered as simply: "I will, Sergeant!" + +He declined an offer. "_Nemoyah_! (No) thanks, I've had enough." + +For some unaccountable reason, Slavin smiled also. His huge clamping +right hand crushed George's, while the left described an arc heavenwards. +Came a throaty gurgle, a careless swing of the arm, and-- + + "Be lay loike a warrior takin' his rist, + Wid his-- + +"I misrimimber th' tail-ind av ut," sighed Sergeant Slavin, "'Tis toime +we turned in." + + +In silence they re-entered the detachment. Yorke, minus his moccasins, +fur-coat and red-serge, lay stretched out upon his cot sleeping heavily, +his flushed, reckless, high-bred face pillowed on one outflung arm. +Above him, silent guardians of his rest, his grotesque mixture of prints +gleamed duskily in the lamp-light. + +Into Redmond's mind--sunk into a deep oblivion of dreamy, chaotic +thought--came again Slavin's words: + +"Shtudy thim picthures, bhoy! an', by an' large ye have th' man himsilf" + +Soon, too, he slept; and into his fitful slumbers drifted a ridiculously +disturbing dream. That of actually witnessing the terrible scene of the +long-dead Indian Mutiny hero, Major Hodson, executing with his own hand +the three princes of Oude. + +_Inshalla_! it was done--there! there! against the cart, amidst the +gorgeous setting of Indian sunset and gleaming minaret. "Deen! Deen! +Futteh _Mohammed_!" came a dying scream upon the last shot--the smoking +carbine was jerked back to the "recover"--a moment the scarlet-turbaned, +scarlet-sashed English officer gazed with ruthless satisfaction at his +treacherous victims then, turning sharply, faced him. + +And lo! to Redmond it seemed that the stern, intolerant, +recklessly-handsome countenance he looked upon bore a striking +resemblance to the face of Yorke. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + _Burn'd Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, + And shook his very frame for ire, + And--"This to me!" he said,--_ + MARMION + + +Early on the morrow it came to pass that Sergeant Slavin, cooking +breakfast for all hands, heard Yorke's voice uplifted in song, as that +worthy made his leisurely toilet. He shot a slightly bilious glance at +Redmond, who, "Morning Stables" finished, lounged nearby. + +"Hear um?" he snorted enviously. "Singin'! singin'!--forever +singin'!--eyah! sich nonsince, tu." + +But, to George, who possessed a musical ear, the ringing tenor sounded +rather airily and sweetly-- + + "_Hark! hark! the lark at Heaven's Gate sings, + And Phoebus 'gins arise, + His steeds to water at those springs--_" + +"Fwhat yez know 'bout that?" Slavin forked viciously at the bacon he was +frying. "Blarney my sowl! an' him not up for 'Shtables' at all! . . ." + + "_With ev'rything that pretty is:-- + My lady sweet, arise! arise! + My lady sweet, arise!_" + +"My lady shweet!"--Slavin snorted unutterable things. + +Yawning, the object of his remarks sauntered into the kitchen just then, +and, deeming the occasion now to be a fitting one, the sergeant +introduced his two subordinates to each other. + +Yorke, with a bleak nod and handshake, swept the junior constable with a +swiftly appraising glance. As frigidly was his salutation returned. +Redmond remarked the regular features, suggestive rather of the ancient +Norman type, the thin, curved, defiant nostrils and dark, arching +eyebrows. The face, with its indefinable stamp of birth and breeding was +handsome enough in its patrician mould, but marred somewhat by the lines +of cynicism, or dissipation, round the sombre, reckless eyes and +intolerant mouth. He had a cool, clear voice and a whimsical, +devil-may-care sort of manner that was apparently natural to him, as was +also a certain languid grace of movement. He possessed an irritating +mannerism of continually elevating his chin and dilating his curved +nostrils disdainfully in a sort of soundless sniff. Beyond a slight +flush he showed little trace of his previous night's dissipation. + +"Where do you hail from?" he enquired of George with casual interest over +the mess-table later. + +"Ontario," replied George laconically, "my people are farmers down there." + +For a moment Yorke's arched brows lifted in puzzled surprise--came a +repetition of his offensive sniffing mannerism; and he stared pointedly +away again. It was difficult to be more insulting in dumb show. + +George, mindful of his promise to Slavin, groaned inwardly. "I am going +to hate this fellow" he thought. + +The sergeant, from the head of the table, kept a keen watch upon the pair. + +"An' fwhat?" came his soft brogue, by way of diversion, "an' fwhat made +yu' take on th' Force?" + +"Oh, I don't know!" Wearily, George shoved his hands deep into his +pockets and leant back in his chair. "Old man's pretty well fixed--now. +He's a member of the legislature for ---- County. I was at McGill for +some terms--medicine." A hopeless note crept into his tones. "I fell +down on my exams . . . ran amuck with the wrong bunch an' all +that--an'--an' . . . kind of made a mess of things I guess. . . . Went +broke--came West. . . . That's why. . . ." + +With a forlorn sort of forced grin he gazed back at his interlocutor. +Yorke, unheeding the conversation, continued his breakfast as if he were +alone. + +"H-mm!" grunted Slavin, summing up the situation with native simplicity, +"That's ut, eh?--but, for all ye have th' spache an' manners av a +ginthleman--ranker somehow--somehow I misdoubt ye're a way-back waster +like Misther Yorkey here!" + +That hardened "ginthleman," absently sipping his coffee, flung a +faintly-derisive, patient smile at his accuser. A perfect understanding +seemed to exist between the two men. Redmond, musing upon the +pathetically-sordid drama he had witnessed not so many hours since, +relapsed into a reverie of speculation. + +The silence was suddenly broken by the sharp trill of the telephone. +Slavin arose lethargically from the mess-table and answered it. + +"Hullo! yis! Slavin shpeakin'! Fwat?--all right Nick! I'll sind a man +shortly an' vag um! So long! Oh, hold on, Nick! . . . May th' divil +niver know ye're dead till ye're tu hours in Hivin! Fwhat?--Oh, thank +yez! Same tu yez! Well! . . . so long!" + +"Hobo worryin' Nick Lee at Cow Run. Scared av fire in th' +livery-shtable. Go yu', Yorkey!" He eyed George a moment in curious +speculation. "Yu' had betther go along tu, Ridmond! Exercise yez harse +an'"--he lit his pipe noisily--"learn th' lay av th' thrails." He turned +to the senior constable. "If ye can lay hould av th' J.P. there, get +this shtiff committed an' let Ridmond take thrain wid um tu th' Post. +Yu' return wid th' harses!" + +"Why can't Redmond nip down there on a way-freight and do the whole +thing?" said Yorke, a trifle sulkily. "It seems rot sending two men +mounted for one blooming hobo." + +"Eyah!" murmured Slavin with suspicious mildness, "'tis th' long toime +since I have used me shtripes tu give men undher me wan ordher twice." + +Yorke flashed a slightly apprehensive glance at his superior's face. +Then, without another word, he reached for his side-arms, bridle, and +fur-coat. He knew his man. + +Redmond followed suit and they adjourned to the stable. + +"I saw that beggar yesterday--on my way up," remarked George, +ill-advisedly. + +Yorke stared. "The hell you did! . . . why didn't you vag him then?" he +retorted irritably. + +Bursting with silent wrath at the "choke-off," with difficulty Redmond +held his peace. In silence they saddled up and leading the horses out +prepared to mount. Yorke swung up on the splendid, mettled +black--"Parson." He had an ideal cavalry seat, and as with an easy grace +he gently controlled his impatient horse, with an inscrutable, mask-like +countenance he watched Redmond and the sorrel "Fox." + +With toe in the leather-covered stirrup the latter reached for the +saddle-horn. Poor George! fuming inwardly over one humiliation caused +him shortly to be the recipient of another. Too late to his preoccupied +mind came Slavin's warning of the day before. + +Like a flash the sorrel whirled to the "off-side" and Redmond, swung off +his balance, revolved into space and was pitched on his hands and knees +in the snow. Fortunately his foot had slipped clear of the stirrup. In +this somewhat ignominious position dizzily he heard Yorke's mocking tones: + +"What are the odds on Fox, bookie? . . . I'd like a few of those dollars +when you've quite finished picking them all up." + +With an almost superhuman effort the young fellow controlled himself once +more as he arose. Not lightly had he given a promise. Silently he +dusted the snow from his uniform and strode over to where the sorrel +awaited him. The horse had made no attempt to run away; apparently being +an old hand at the game. It now stood eying its dupe, with Lord knows +what mirth tickling its equine brain. + +Slipping the "nigh" rein through the saddle-fork, then back to the +cheek-strap again, George snubbed Fox's head towards him, making it +impossible for the horse to whirl to the "off" as before. Warily and +quietly he then swung into the saddle and the two men set off. + +A few yards from the front of the detachment Yorke suddenly pulled up +and, dismounting, felt around in the snow at the base of a +well-remembered telephone-pole. It was Redmond's hour to jeer now, if he +had been mindful to do so. But another usurped that privilege. + +A queer choking sound made them both turn round. Slavin, his grim face +registering unholy mirth, lounged in the doorway. + +"Fwhat ye lukkin for, Yorkey?" + +"Oh, nothing!" came that gentleman's answer. + +"Ye'll find ut in th' bottle thin." + +Insult was added to injury by the sergeant casually plucking that article +from it's "rist" and chucking it over. + +Yorke's face was a study. "Oh!" cried he dismally, "what wit! . . . give +three rousing cheers!" . . . He mounted once more. "Well! there's no +denying you are one hell of a sergeant!" + +That worthy one grinned at him tolerantly. "Get yez gone!" he spat back, +"an' du not linger tu play craps on th' thrail either--th' tu av yez!" + +Long and grimly, with his bald head sunk between his huge shoulders, he +gazed after the departing riders. "Eyah! 'tis best so!" he murmured +softly, "a showdown--wid no ould shtiff av a non-com like meself tu butt +in. . . . An', onless I am mistuk that same will come this very morn, +from th' luks av things. . . . Sind th' young wan is as handy wid his +dhooks as Brankley sez he is! . . . Thin--an' on'y thin will there be +peace in th' fam'ly." + +He re-lit his pipe and, shading his eyes from the snow-glare focussed +them on two rapidly vanishing black specks. "I wud that I cud see ut!" +he sighed, plaintively, "I wud that I cud see ut!" + +It was a glorious day, sunny and clear, with the temperature sufficiently +low to prevent the hard-packed snow from balling up the horses' feet. +The trail ran fairly level along a lower shelf of the timber-lined +foothills, which on their right hand sloped gradually to the banks of the +Bow River in a series of rolling "downs." Sharply outlined against the +blue ether the Sou' Western chain of the mighty "Rockies" reared their +rosily-white peaks in all their morning glory--silent guardians of the +winter landscape. + +Deep down in his soul young Redmond harboured a silent, dreamy adoration +for the beauty of such scenes as this. Under different conditions he +would have enjoyed this ride immensely. But now--with his mind a +seething bitter chaos consequent upon his companion's incomprehensible +behavior towards him, he rode in a sort of brooding reverie. Yorke was +equally morose. Not a word had fallen from their lips since they left +the detachment. + +Right under the horses' noses a big white jack-rabbit suddenly darted +across the snow-banked ruts of the well-worn trail, pursuing its leaping +erratic course towards a patch of brush on the river side. +Simultaneously the animals shied, with an inward trend, cannoning their +respective riders together. Yorke reined away sharply and glared. + +"Get over'" he said curtly, "don't crowd me!" + +He spoke as a Cossack hetman might to his sotnia, and, at his tone and +attitude, something snapped within Redmond. To his already overflowing +cup of resentment it was the last straw. His promise to Slavin he flung +to the winds, and it was replaced with vindictive but cool purpose. + +"Showdown!" he muttered under his breath, "I knew it had to come!" He +was conscious of a feeling of vast relief. Aloud he responded, blithely +and rudely, "Oh! to hell with _you_!" + +Yorke checked his horse with a suddenness that brought the animal back +onto its haunches. Sitting square and motionless in the saddle for a +moment he stared at George with an expression almost of shocked +amazement; then his face became convulsed with ruthless passion. + +The junior constable had pulled up also, and now wheeling "half-left" and +lolling lazily in his saddle with shortened leg stared back at his enemy +with an expression there was no mistaking. His debonair young face had +altered in an incredible fashion. Although his lips were pursed up with +their whistling nonchalance his eyes had contracted beneath scowling +brows into mere pin-points of steel and ice. He looked about as docile +as a young lobo wolf--cornered. + +"Ah!" murmured Yorke, noting the transformation; and he seemed to +consider. He had seen that look on men's faces before. Insensibly, +passion had vanished from his face; the bully had disappeared; and in his +place there sat in saddle a cool, contemptuous gentleman. + +"Are you talking back to me?" he said. He did not look astounded +now--seemed rather to assume it. + +Redmond's scowling brows lifted a fraction. "Talking back?" he echoed, +"sure! Who the devil do you think you're trying to come 'the Tin Man' +over?" + +Reluctantly Yorke discounted his first impressions. Here was no +self-conscious bravado. Warily he surveyed George for a moment--the cool +appraising glance of the ring champion in his corner scanning his +challenger--then, swinging out of the saddle, he dropped his lines and +began to unbuckle his spurs. + +There was no mistaking his actions. Redmond followed suit. A few +seconds he looked dubiously at his horse, then back at Yorke. + +"Oh, you needn't be scared of Fox beating it," remarked that gentleman a +trifle wearily, "he'll stand as good as old Parson if you chuck his lines +down." + +Shading his eyes from the sun-glare he took a rapid survey of their +surroundings, then led the way to a wind-swept patch of ground, more or +less bare of snow. Arriving thither, as if by mutual consent they flung +off caps, side-arms, fur-coats and stable-jackets. Yorke, a graceful, +compactly-built figure of a man, sized up his slightly heavier opponent +with an approving eye. + +"You strip good" he said carelessly. "Well! what's it to be? . . . +'muck' or 'muffin'?" + +"'Muffin' of course!" snapped Redmond angrily, "what d'ye take me for?--a +'rough-house meal ticket'?" + +"All right!" said Yorke soothingly, "don't lose your temper!" + +It may have been a shrewdly-calculated attempt to attain that end; and +yet again it may have been only sheer mechanical habit that prompted him +to stretch forth his hands in the customary salute of the ring. + +With an inarticulate exclamation of rage the younger man struck the +proffered hands aside and led with a straight left for the other's head. +Yorke blocked it cleverly and fell into a clinch. + +"Ah!" murmured Yorke in his antagonist's ear with a sinister smile, +"rotten manners! for just that, my buck, I'll make you scoff 'muffin' +'till you're quite poorly!" + +Working his arms cautiously, he sprang clear of the clinch, then, rushing +his man and feinting for the ribs, he rocked Redmond's head back with two +terrific left and right hooks to the jaw. + +The jarring sting of the punches, although dazing him slightly, brought +Redmond to his senses, as he realized how vulnerable his momentary loss +of temper had rendered him. He now braced himself with dogged +determination and, covering up warily, circled his adversary with clever +foot-work. Yorke, tearing in again was met with one of the crudest jabs +he had ever known--flush in the mouth. Gamely he retaliated with a +stinging uppercut and a right swing which, coming home on Redmond's +cheek-bone, whirled him off his balance and sent him sprawling. + +Dazed, but not daunted, he scrambled to his feet. Yorke, blowing upon +his knuckles with all the air of an old-time "Regency blood," waited with +heaving chest and scornful, narrowed eyes. + +"Want to elevate the sponge?" he queried sneeringly. + +"No!" panted George grimly, "it was you started the whole rotten dirty +business, and, by gum! I'll finish it!" + +Dancing in and out he drew an ineffective left from his opponent and +countered with a pile-driving right to the heart. Yorke gave vent to a +groaning exclamation and turned pale. He spat gaspingly out of his +mashed lips and propped Redmond off awhile; then, suddenly springing in +again he attempted to mix it. George was nothing loath, and the two men, +standing toe-to-toe, slugged each other with a perfect whirlwind of +damaging punches to face and body. + +Even in the giddy whirl of combat, in either man's heart now was a wonder +almost akin to respect for each other's ring knowledge and gameness. It +was not George's first bout by many, but the physical endurance of this +hard, clean-hitting Corinthian of a man was an astounding revelation to +him; the science of the graceful, narrow-waisted figure was still as +quick and as punishing as a steel trap. + +Yorke, for his part, reflected with bitter irony how utterly erroneous +had been his primary calculations--how Nemesis was hard upon his heels at +last in the guise of this relentless youngster, who fought like a +college-bred "Charley Mitchell." + +Ding! dong!--hook, jab, uppercut, block, and swing; in and out, back and +forth, side-stepping and head-work--one long exhausting round. Flesh and +blood could not stand the pace--though it was Redmond now who forced it. +Neither of the men was in training and the long strain began to tell upon +them both cruelly--especially upon the veteran Yorke. Still, with +frosted hair and streaming faces, the sweat-soaked, bruised and bleeding +combatants staggered against each other and strove to make play with +their weary arms, until utter exhaustion rang the time gong. + +Gasping and swaying to and fro, his puffed lips wreathed into a ghastly +semblance of his old scornful smile, Yorke dropped his guard and stuck +out his chin. He mouthed and pointed to it tauntingly. In spite of +himself, a sorry grin flickered over George's battered, weary young face. +He mouthed back--speech was beyond either; sagging at the knees he reeled +forward and his right arm went poking out in a wobbling, uncertain punch. + +It glanced harmlessly over Yorke's shoulder, but the violent impact of +his body sent the other heavily to the ground. An ineffectual struggle +to maintain his equilibrium and he, too, fell--face downwards, with his +head pillowed on Yorke's heaving chest. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa--aa--aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! + KIPLING + + +A great peace lay upon the frozen landscape--the deep, wintry peace of +the vast, snow-bound Nor'West. A light breeze murmured over the crisping +snow, and moaned amongst the pines in the timber-lined spurs of the +foothills. High overhead in the sunny, dazzling blue vault of heaven a +huge solitary hawk slowly circled with wide-spread, motionless wings, +uttering intermittently its querulous, eerie whistle. + +Awhile the two exhausted men lay gasping for breath--absolutely and +utterly spent. Suddenly Yorke shivered violently and sighed. Redmond +raised himself off the prostrate form of his late opponent and, +staggering over to the pile of their discarded habiliments, slowly and +painfully he donned his fur coat and cap; then, picking up Yorke's, he +stumbled over to the latter. The senior constable was now sitting up, +with arms drooping loosely over his knees. George wrapped the coat +around the bowed shoulders and put on the cap. + +"You're cold, old man!" he said simply. "We'd best get our things on +now, and beat it." + +Wearily Yorke raised his head, and, at something he beheld in that +disfigured, but unalterably-handsome face, Redmond's heart smote him. + +Often in the past he had fondly imagined himself nursing implacable, +absolutely undying hatreds; brooding darkly over injuries received in +fancy or reality, planning dire and utterly ruthless revenge, etc. But, +deep, deep down in his boyish soul he knew it to be only a dismal +failure--that he could not keep it up. His was an impulsive, generous +young heart--equally quick to forgive an injury as to resent one. Now in +his pity and misery he could have cried--to see his erstwhile enemy so +hopelessly broken in body and spirit. + +Therefore it did not occur to him that it was sheer sentimental absurdity +on his part now to drop on one knee and put his arms around that +shivering, pride-broken form. + +"Yorkey!" he mumbled huskily, "old man! . . . Yor--" + +He choked a bit, and was silent. + +Waveringly, a skinned-knuckled, but sinewy, shapely hand crept out and +gently ruffled Redmond's curly auburn hair. Vaguely he heard a voice +speaking to him. Could that tired, kind, whimsical voice belong to +Yorke? It said: "Reddy, my old son! . . . we're still in the ring, +anyway. . . . Seems--do what we would or could--we couldn't poke each +other out. . . ." + +Came a long silence; then: "If ever a man was sorry for the rotten way +he's acted, it's surely me right now. . . . Got d----d good cause to be +p'raps. . . . I handed it to you about the sponge . . . egad! I +well-nigh came chucking it up myself--later. My colonial oath! but +you're the cleverest, gamest, hardest-hitting young proposition I've ever +ruffled it out with! . . . Where'd you pick it up? Who's handled you?" + +George slowly rose to his feet. "Man named Scholes--down East" he +answered. He eyed Yorke's face ruefully and, incidentally felt his own, +"I used to do a bit with the gloves when I was at McGill. Talking about +sponges!--I only wish we had one now to chuck up--in tangible form." + +He abstracted the other's handkerchief and, rolling it with his own into +a pad dabbed it in the snow. Yorke winced. "Hold still, old thing!" +said Redmond, "we'll have to clean off a bit ere we hit the giddy trail +again." + +For some minutes he gently manipulated the pad. "There! you don't look +too bad now. Have a go at me!" + +Figuratively, they licked each other's wounds awhile. Yorke had grown +very silent. Chin in hands and rocking very slightly to and fro, all +huddled up in his fur coat, he gazed unseeingly into the beyond. His +face was clouded with such hopeless, bitter, brooding misery that it +worried Redmond. He guessed it to be something far deeper than the +memory of their recent conflict. He strove to arouse the other. + +"Talk about game cocks!" he began lightly. "Ten years ago, say! you must +have been a corker--regular 'Terry McGovern'." + +"Eh?" Yorke's far-away eyes stared at him vaguely. "I was in India +then. Army light-weight champion in my day. Slavin wasn't joshing much +at breakfast, by gum! . . . Now we're here! . . . We're a bright pair!" +He made as though to cast snow upon his head, "Ichabod! Ichabod! our +glory has departed!" + +He lifted up his tenor voice, chanting the while he rocked-- + + "_Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah!_" + +Redmond flinched and raised a weakly protesting hand. "Don't, old man!" +he implored miserably, "don't! what's the--" + +"Eh!" queried Yorke brutally--rocking--"does hurt?" + + "_If the home we never write to, and the oaths we never keep, + And all we--_" + +"No! no! no! Yorkey!" George's voice rose to a cry, "not that! . . . +quit it, old man! . . . that's one of the most terrible things Kipling +ever wrote--terrible because it's so absolutely, utterly hopeless. . . ." + +"Well, then!" said Yorke slowly-- + + "_Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer?_" + +"It wasn't beer," muttered Redmond absently, "it was whiskey. Slavic and +I drank it." With an effort he strove to arouse himself out of the +despondency that he himself had fallen into. + +"Listen! . . . Oh! quit that d----d rocking, Yorkey! . . . Listen now! +we've put up a mighty good scrap against each other--we'll call that a +draw--let's put up another against our--well! we'll call it our rotten +luck . . . D----n it all, old man, we're not 'down an' outs' doing duty +in this outfit--the best military police corps in the world! . . . Let's +both of us quit squalling this eternal 'nobody loves me' stuff! This +isn't any slobbery brotherly love or New Jerusalem business, or anything +like that, either. I'm not a bloomin' missionary!" He qualified that +assertion unnecessarily to prove it. "But let's stick together and back +each other up--just us two and old man Slavin--make it a sort of 'rule of +three.' We can have a deuce of a good time on this detachment +then! . . ." + +He spoke hotly, eagerly, with boyish fervour, his soul in his eyes. + +Yorke remained silent, with averted eyes. That imploring, wistful, +bruised young countenance was almost more than he could stand. George, +dropping on one knee beside him put a tremulous hand on the senior +constable's shoulder. "What's wrong, Yorkey?" he queried. He shook the +bowed shoulder gently. "What's made you consistently knock every third +buck that's been sent here? 'till they got fed up, and transferred? . . . +They tried to put the wind up me about it at the Post. What's bitin' +you? I don't seem to get your angle at all!" + +"Oh, I don't know!" Yorke coughed and spat drearily. "Kind of rum +reason, you'll think. Long story--too long--dates back. Listen then! +Ten years back, in the pride of my giddy youth, I held a Junior Sub's +commission in the ---- Lancers--in India. This is just a synopsis of +my case, mind! . . . Well! the regiment was lying at Rawal Pindi, and--I +guess I kind of ran amuck there--got myself into a rotten +_esclandre_--entirely my own fault I'll admit: + + _Man is fire, and Woman is tow, + And the Devil, he comes and begins to blow--_ + +the same old miserable business the world's fed up with. Since then +seems I've kind of made a mess of things. Burke Slavin's about +right--his estimate of me." He sighed with bitter, gloomy retrospection. +"I've always had a queer, intolerant sort of temperament. If I'd lived +in the days of the Indian Mutiny I guess I'd have been in 'Hodson's +Horse'." (Redmond started, remembering his curious dream.) "He was a +man after my own heart," Yorke continued slowly, "resourceful, slashing +sort of beggar . . . he ruffled it with a high hand. Bold and game as +Sherman, or Paul Jones, but as ruthless as Graham of Claverhouse. He put +the ever-lasting fear into the rebels of Oude--something like Cromwell +did in Ireland. My old Governor served through the Mutiny--he's told me +stories of him. My God!" + +He drew his fur coat closer round him. "Well!"--Redmond watched the +sombre profile--"as I was saying . . . I 'muckered'. . . . Since then, +with the years, I guess I've been climbing down the ladder of illusions +till I'm right in the stoke-hole, and Old Nick seems to grin and whisper: +'As you were! my cashiered Sub.--As you were!' every time I chuck a brace +and try to climb up again. How's that for a bit of cheap cynicism?"--the +low, bitter laugh was not good to hear--"Man!"--the brooding eyes +narrowed--"I've sure plumbed the depths--knocking around, with the right +to live. Port Said, Buenos Aires, Shanghai. . . . I've certainly +travelled. Some day I'll throw the book at you. Now--substance and +ambition gone by the board long ago, and mighty little left of principle +I guess--I am--what I am--everything except a prodigal, or a +remittance-man--I never worried them at Home--that way. . . ." + +He spoke with a sort of reckless earnestness that moved his hearer more +than that individual cared to show. Redmond felt it was useless to offer +mere conventional sympathy in a case like this. He did the next best +thing possible--he remained silently attentive and let the other run on. + +"You take three men now--stationed in the same detachment," resumed Yorke +wearily, "by gum! they're thrown together mighty close when you come to +think of it. It's different to the Post, where there's a crowd. Life's +too short to start in explaining minutely just what that difference is. +Fact remains! . . . to get along and pull together they've got to like +each other--have something in common--give and take. Otherwise the +situation becomes d----d trying, and trouble soon starts in the family." + +"By what divine right I should consider myself qualified to--to--Oh! shut +up, you young idiot! . . ." Redmond, forehead pressed into the speaker's +shoulder, giggled hysterically in spite of himself--"Shut up! d'you hear? +or I'll knock your silly block off!" + +The two bodies shook, with their convulsive merriment. "You can't do it! +old thing," came George's smothered rejoinder, "and you know darned well +you can't--now! . . . Go on, you bloomin' Hodson!--proceed!" + +Yorke gave vent to a good-natured oath. "Hodson? . . . you do me proud, +my buck! . . . Well now!--this 'three men in a boat' business! . . . +I'll admit I 'rocked' it with Crampton. I virtually abolished him +because--oh! I couldn't stick the beggar at all. I simply couldn't make +a pal of him. He was fairly good at police work, but a proper cad, in my +opinion. Always swanking about the palatial residence he'd left behind +in the Old Country. He called it ''is 'ome' at that. Typical specimen +of the middle-class snob. Followed Taylor. Thick-headed, serious-minded +sort of fool. Had great veneration for 'his juty.' No real knowledge of +the Criminal Code, and minus common sense, yet begad! the silly beggar +tried to be more regimental that the blooming Force is itself. I +systematically put the wind up to him 'till he got cold feet and quit." + +Redmond recalled the fact that Taylor had been his predecessor. +"Followed!" he echoed mockingly, looking up at his handiwork. + +Yorke, with a twisted smile glanced down at the bruised, but debonair +young face. Benevolently he punched its owner in the back. +"Followed . . . a certain young fellow, yclept 'Nemesis'," he said, "I +sized you up for one of these smart Alecks--first crack out of the box, +and egad! I think I'm about right." + +Said Redmond, "How about our respected sergeant? we seem to have +forgotten him." + +"Slavin?" ejaculated the senior constable; and was silent awhile. There +was no levity in him now. Slowly he resumed, "I guess as much as it's +humanly possible for two men to know each other--down to the bedrock, +it's surely Burke Slavin and I. Should too, the years we've been +together. The good old beggar! . . . We slang each other, and all +that . . . but there's too much between us ever to resent anything for +long." + +"I know," said Redmond simply, "he told me himself--last night." + +"Eh?" queried Yorke sharply. "My God! . . . Tchkk!" he clucked, and +burying his hands in his face he gave vent to a fretful oath. "My God!" +he repeated miserably, "I'd forgotten--last night! . . . I sure must +have been 'lit' . . . to come that over old Burke. . . ." + +"You sure were!" remarked Redmond brutally. + +"Keats' 'St. Agnes' Eve'! . . . Oh, Lord!" . . . He drew in his breath +with a sibilant hiss, "There seems something--something devilish about--" + +"I know! I know!" breathed Yorke tensely, "what . . . you mean." His +haggard eyes implored Redmond's. "No! no! never again . . . I swear +it. . . ." + +There came a long, painful silence. "See here; look!" began Yorke +suddenly. He stopped and surveyed George, a trifle anxiously. +"Mind! . . . I'm not trying to justify myself but--get me right about +this now. Don't you ever start in making a mistake about Slavin--blarney +and all. No, Sir! I tell you when old Burke runs _amok_ in those +tantrums he's a holy fright. He'd kill a man. Might as well run up +against a gorilla." + +A vision of the huge, sinister, crouching figure seemed to rise up in +Redmond's mind--the great, clutching, _simian_ hands. + +"In India," continued Yorke, "we'd say he'd got a touch of the 'Dulalli +Tap.' The man doesn't know his own strength. I was taking an awful +chance--getting his goat like that last night. It's a wonder he didn't +kill me. He's man-handled me pretty badly at times. Oh, well! I guess +it's been coming to me all right. Neither of us has ever dreamt of going +squalling to the Orderly-room over our . . . differences. I don't think +Burke's ever taken the trouble to 'peg' a man in his life. Not his way. +'I must take shteps!' says he, and 'I will take shteps!' and when he +starts in softly rubbing those awful great grub-hooks he calls +hands--together! . . . well! you want to look out." + +Lighting a cigarette he resumed reminiscently: "They were a tough crowd +to handle up in the Yukon. The devil himself 'd have been scared to butt +in to that 'Soapy Smith' gang; but, by gum! they were afraid of Slavin. +He doesn't drink much now, but he did then--mighty few that didn't--up +there--and I tell you, even our own fellows got a bit leery of him when +he used to start in 'trailing his coat.' They were glad when he 'came +outside.' That's one of the reasons why he's shoved out on a prairie +detachment. He wouldn't do at all for the Post. He never reports in +there more than he has to--dead scared of the old man, who's about the +only soul he is afraid of on earth. The O.C.'s awful sarcastic with him +at times, and that gets Burke's goat properly. He sure does hate getting +a choke-off from the old man." + +He grinned guiltily. "That's why he prefers to wash the family linen +strictly at home--what little there is. But, sarcasm and all, the O.C. +gives him credit for being onto his job--and it's coming to him, too. +He's quick acting and he's got the Criminal Code well-nigh by heart. +Regular blood-hound when he starts in working up a case." + +He yawned, and rising stiffly to his feet stretched his cramped limbs. +"We-ll! Reddy, my giddy young hopeful!--Now we've fallen on each other's +ruddy necks and kissed and wept and had a heart-to-heart talk we'll--" + +"Aw, quit making game, Yorkey! Is it a go? You know what I said?" + +Strangely compelling, Yorke found that bruised, eager, wistful young +face, with its earnest, honest eyes. "All right!" he agreed, with +languid bonhomie. "You've certainly earned the office of Dictator, and, +as I remarked--we really have quite a lot in common. Mind, though, you +don't repent of your bargain. One thing!" the curved, defiant nostrils +dilated faintly, "Seems the world always has use for us runagates in one +capacity. It's just the likes of us that compose the rank and file of +most of the Empire's military police forces. Who makes the best M.P. +man, executing duty, say, in a critical life-and-death hazard? The +cautious, upright, model young man, with a tender regard for a whole skin +and a Glorious Future? Or the poor devil who's lost all, and doesn't +care a d----n? We tackle the world's dangerous, dirty criminal work +and--swank and all--Society don't want to forget it." + +He pointed to their horses who were playfully rearing and biting at each +other in equine sport. "Look at old Parson and Fox tryin' to warm +themselves? Bloomin' fine example we've set 'em. Well! _allons_! _mon +camarade_, let's up and beat it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + _A deed accursed! Strokes have been struck before + By the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt + If more of horror or disgrace they bore; + But this foul crime, like Cain's, stands darkly out._ + THOMAS TAYLOR + + +Hastily dressing, the two policemen mounted and took the trail once more. +Side by side as they rode along, in each man's heart was an estimate of +the other vastly different from that with which they started out that +memorable morning. + +Yorke, his spirits now fully recovered, became quite companionably +communicative, relating picturesque, racy stories of India, the Yukon, +and other countries he had known. George, in receptive mood, listened in +silent appreciation to one of the most fascinating _raconteurs_ he had +ever met in his young life. Incidentally he felt relieved as he noted +his comrade now tactfully avoiding morbid egotism--dwelling but lightly +upon the milestones that marked his chequered career. + +The bodily stiffness and soreness, consequent upon their recent bout, was +now well-nigh forgotten, though occasionally they laughingly rallied each +other as the sharp air stung their bruised faces. They were just +surmounting the summit of a long, steep grade in the trail. + +Said Redmond dubiously: "See here; look! I'm darned if I like getting +the freedom of the City of Cow Run sportin' such a pretty mug as this! +How many more miles to this giddy burg, old thing?" + +Yorke grinned unfeelingly. "Hard on nine miles to go yet. We're about +half way. _Isch ga bibble_! . . . open your ditty-box and sing! you +blooming whip-poor-will." + + "A werry heart goes all the way, + But a sad one tires in a mile a'; + A--" + +The old lilt died on his lips. With a startled oath he reined in sharply +and, shielding his eyes from the sun-glare, remained staring straight in +front of him. They had just topped the crest of the rise. The eastward +slope showed a low-lying, undulating stretch of snow-bound country, +sparsely dotted with clumps of poplar and alder growth, through which the +trail wound snake-like into the fainter distance. Southwards, below the +rolling, shelving benches, lay the river, a steaming black line, twisting +interminably between frosty, bush-fringed banks. + +No less startled than his companion, Redmond pulled up also and stared +with him. Not far distant on the trail ahead of them they beheld a dark, +ominous-looking mass, vividly conspicuous against the snow. Suddenly the +object moved and resolved itself unmistakably into a horse struggling to +rise. For an instant they saw the head and the fore-part of the body +lift, and then flop prone again. Close against it lay another dark +object. + +"Horse down!" snapped Yorke tersely. "Hell!" he added, "looks like a man +there, too! come on quick!" + +Responding to a shake of the lines and a fierce thrust of the spurs, +their horses leapt forward and they raced towards their objective. + +"Steady! steady!" hissed Yorke, checking his mount as they drew near the +fallen animal and its rider, "pull Fox a bit, Red! Mustn't scare the +horse!" + +Slackening into a walk, they flung out of saddle, dropped their lines, +crouched, and crept warily forward. The horse, a big, splendid +seal-brown animal, had fallen on its right side, with its off fore-leg +plunged deep in a snow-filled badger-hole. The body of the man lay also +on the off-side with one leg under his mount. The stiffened form was a +ghastly object to behold, being literally encased in an armour-like shell +of frozen, claret-coloured snow. + +At the approach of the would-be rescuers the poor brute whinnied +pitifully and made another ineffectual attempt to rise. Yorke flung +himself onto the head and held it down, while George dived frantically +for the man's body, and tugged until he had got the leg from under. + +"Hung up! by God!" gasped the former, "his foot's well-nigh through the +stirrup!" + +Redmond, ex-medical student, made swift examination. "Dead!" he +pronounced with finality, "Good God! dead as a herring! The man's been +dragged and kicked to death!" He made a futile effort to release the +imprisoned foot. + +"No! no!" cried Yorke sharply, "no use doing that if he's dead. +Coroner's got to view things as they are." + +The horse began to struggle again painfully. Peering down the +badger-hole they could see the broken bone of its leg protruding bloodily +through the skin. Yorke released one hand and reached for his gun. + +"Poor old chap!" he said, "we'll fix you. Quick Red! pull the body as +far back as the stirrup-legadeiro'll go! That'll do! There, old +boy! . . ." + +And with practised hand he sent a merciful bullet crashing through brain +and spinal cord. The hind legs threshed awhile, but presently, with a +muscular quiver they stiffened and all was still. Yorke, releasing his +hold struggled to his feet, and the two men stared pityingly at what lay +before them. What those merciless, steel-shod hoofs had left of the head +and the youthful body indicated a man somewhere in his twenties. His +ice-bound outer clothing consisted of black Angora goatskin chaps and a +short sheepskin coat. + +"Can't place him--like this," muttered Yorke, after prolonged scrutiny, +"but I seem to know the horse." + +Suddenly he uttered a sharp exclamation--something between a groan and a +cry. Redmond, startled at a new horror apparent on the other's ghastly +face, clutched him by the arm. + +"What's up?" he queried tensely. + +Yorke struggled to speak. "Fox!" he gasped presently--"this +morning. . . . I never told you. My God!--You might have got hung up +like this, too." + +"No! no! Yorkey!" Redmond almost shouted the disclaimer, "Slavin wised +me up to that trick of his yesterday. I forgot. It was my own fault I +got piled like that. Forget it, old man! I say forget it!" + +He shook the other's arm with a sort of savage gentleness. + +A look of vague relief dawned on Yorke's haggard face. "Ay, so!" he +murmured, and paused with brooding indecision. "That's absolved my +conscience some, but not altogether." + +They remained silent awhile after this. Presently Yorke pulled +himself together and spoke briskly and decisively. "Well, now! we'll +have to get busy. Blair's place is only about three miles from +here--nor'east--they're on the long-distance 'phone. Doctor Cox of Cow +Run's the coroner for this district. If I can get hold of him I'll get +him to come out right-away--and I'll notify Slavin." + +Catching up his horse he swung into the saddle. "I'll be back here on +the jump. You stick around, and say, Reddy, you might as well have a +dekko at the lay of things while you're waiting. Where he came off the +perch, how far he's been dragged, and all that. Be careful though, keep +well to the side and don't foul up the tracks. And don't get too far +away, either!" + +He galloped off and soon disappeared over a distant rise. Left to +himself George mounted Fox and set to work to follow out the senior +constable's instructions. + + +"Well?" queried Yorke, swinging wearily out of his saddle an hour or so +later, "How'd you make out? Find the place where he flopped? Rum sort +of perch you've got there--you look like Patience on a monument!" + +George, seated upon the rump of the dead horse, nodded and grunted +laconic response: "Sure. 'Bout two miles down the trail there. How'd +you get along, Yorkey? Did you raise Slavin and the coroner?" + +"Got Slavin all hunkadory," said the senior constable briefly, "he should +be here soon, now. Dr. Cox'd just left for Wilson's, two miles this side +of Cow Run. They're on the 'phone, too; so I left word there for him to +come on here right away." He seated himself alongside the other. + +Awhile they carried on a desultory, more or less speculative conversation +anent the fatality, until they grew morbidly weary of contemplating the +poor broken body. Yorke slid off the dead horse suddenly. + +"Wish Slavin were here!" he said, "let's take a dekko from the top of the +rise, Reddy, see'f we can see him coming. I'm getting cold sitting here." + +Redmond, nothing loath, complied. Mounting, they turned back to the +summit of the ridge. Reaching it, the jingle of bells smote their ears, +and they espied the Police cutter approaching them at a rapid pace. + +"Like unto Jehu, the son of Nimshi!" murmured Yorke, "he's sure springing +old T and B up the grade." + +Sergeant Slavin pulled up his smoking team along-side his two mounted +subordinates. "So ho, bhoys!" was his greeting, "fwhat's this bizness?" + +Yorke rapidly acquainted him with all the details. At one point in his +narration he had occasion to turn to George: "That's how it was, Reddy?" +And the latter replied, "That's about the lay of it, Yorkey." + +The sergeant listened, but absently. To them it did not seem exactly to +be an occasion for levity; but they could have sworn that, behind an +exaggerated grimness of mien, he was striving to suppress some inward +mirth, as his deep-set Irish eyes roved from face to face. + +"Yez luk as if yez had been hung up an' dhragged tu--th' pair av yez," he +remarked casually. + +Remembrance smote the two culprits. They exchanged guilty glances and +swallowed the home-thrust in silence. + +Slavin clucked to his team. "Walk-_march_, thin!" said he. + +Wheeling sharply about, they started down the trail again, the cutter +following in their wake. If their consciences would have permitted them +to glance back they would have remarked their superior's face registering +unholy delight. + +Out of the corner of his mouth Redmond shot, tensely, "Dye think he--" + +"Oh!" broke in Yorke resignedly, sotto voce. "You can't fool him! . . . +_Isch ga bibble_, anyway!" + +"Yorkey!" an' "Reddy!" that worthy was mumbling tu himself--over and over +again, "_Yorkey_!" an' "_Reddy_!" "'Tis so they name each other--now! +Blarney me sowl! 'Tis come about! Fifty-fifty, tu--from th' mugs av +thim. Peace, perfect peace, in th' fam'ly at last! Eyah! I wud have +given me month's pay-cheque for a ring-side seat." He sighed deeply. + +They reached the fatal spot. Slavin, his levity gone, stepped out of the +cutter and, retaining the lines of his restive team, stared long at the +gruesome spectacle before him, with a sort of callous sadness. + +"These tu must have lain here th' night," he remarked, indicating the +frost-rimed forms, "have yez sized things up? Got th' lay av fwhere ut +happened?" + +Redmond made affirmative response. + +"Can you place him, Sergeant?" queried Yorke. + +"Eyah! Onless I am vastly mishtuk. Whoa, now! shtand still, ye fules! +Fwhat yez a-scared av? Here, Yorkey! hold T an' B a minnut!" + +He pushed over his lines to the latter and, producing a pair of +leather-cased brand-inspector's clippers, he cropped bare a circular +patch on the defunct horse's nigh shoulder. Shorn of the thick, +seal-brown winter hair, the brand was now plainly visible. Enlightenment +came to Yorke in a flash, as he peered over his superior's shoulder. + +"D Two!" he gasped, "I knew I'd seen that horse somewhere! It's +'Duster,' Larry Blake's horse. Tchkk! this must be him. My God!" + +"Shure!" snapped Slavin testily. "Wake up! Is yeh're mem'ry goin', man? +One av yeh're own cases last month, tu!" He tenderly pocketed the +clippers. "Yes! ye shud know him!"--dryly--"lukked troo th' bottom av a +glass wid him often enough." + +"Let's see'f he's got any letters or anything in his pockets--to make +sure!" began Redmond eagerly. Suiting the action to the word he bent +down to investigate. But Slavin intruded a huge arm. "Hould on, bhoy!" +he said, with all an old policeman's fussiness over rightful procedure. +"Du not touch! That is th' coroner's bizness. Did they not dhrill that +inta yeh at Regina?" + +He stared thoughtfully at the corpse. "Dhrink an' th' divil! eyah! +dhrink an' th' divil!"--sadly. "Larry, me pore bhoy! niver more will ye +come a-whoopin' ut out av Cow Run on yeh 'Duster' horse . . . +shpiflicated belike an' singin' 'Th' Brisk Young Man." Austerely he +glanced at Yorke, "'Tis a curse, this same dhrink!" + +"How do you know the poor beggar was drunk?" queried the latter, a trifle +sulkily. "He may have been as sober as you or I." + +"Shpeak for yehsilf!" retorted Slavin dryly, "Ah! this must be Docthor +Cox comin' now!" + +A cutter containing two men was approaching them rapidly. Presently it +drew up alongside the group and a short, rotund gentleman, clad in furs, +sprang out and came swiftly, bag in hand. He was middle-aged, with a +gray moustache and kind, alert, dark eyes. Greeting the policemen +quietly, he turned to the broken body. + +"Tchkk! good God!" He shook his head sadly. Redmond thought he had +never seen a medical man so unprofessionally shocked. Presently he +straightened up and turned to Slavin. "Can you identify him, Sergeant?" + +That worthy nodded. "Eyah! 'tis Larry Blake, I'm thinking Docthor. Best +frisk him now an' see, I guess. Maybe he has letthers." + +Hastily diving into his bag the coroner produced a pair of long keen +scissors and slit the short, frozen sheepskin coat. In the breast-pocket +of the coat underneath, amongst other miscellany two old letters rewarded +his search. He glanced at the superscriptions and handed them up to +Slavin. + +"Larry Blake it is," he said. He felt the soggy, pulped head. "Skull's +stove right in. Any one of these smashes would have sufficed to kill +him." He clipped the hair around a ghastly gaping crevice at the base of +the head. + +Suddenly he peered closely, uttered an exclamation, peered again and drew +back. "Sergeant!" he said sharply, "D'ye see that?--No need to ask you +what that is!" In an unbroken portion of the back of the skull he +indicated a small, circular orifice. The trio craned forward and made +minute examination. Slavin ejaculated an oath and glanced up at +Yorke--almost remorsefully. + +"I take ut all back," he said. Meeting the coroner's blank, enquiring +stare he added: "Booze, Docthor--we thought ut might be. . . . Yeh know +Larry!" + +The physician of Cow Run nodded understandingly. Slavin bent again and +made close scrutiny of the bullet-hole. "_Back_ av th' head, no powdher +marks!" He straightened up. "Docther, are ye thru? All right, thin! +Guess we'll book up an' start in." + +Methodically they all produced note-books and entered the needful +particulars. The lanky individual who had driven the coroner out brought +forward a tarpaulin and spread it on the ground. With some difficulty +the over-shoed foot was disengaged from the imprisoning stirrup, the body +rolled in the tarpaulin and deposited in the rear of the doctor's cutter. +The saddle and bridle were flung into the Police cutter. They then +rolled the dead horse clear of the trail. + +That night the coyotes held grim, snarling carnival. + +Slavin turned to Redmond. "Ye've located th' place, eh?" The latter +nodded. "All right, thin, get mounted, th' tu av yez, an' lead on!" + +Keeping needfully wide of the broad, claret-bespotted swath in the snow, +the party started trailing back. Yorke and George rode ahead. The +latter glanced around to make sure of being out of earshot of their +sergeant. + +"We-ll of all the hardened old cases! . . . Slavin sure does crown 'em!" +he muttered to his comrade. + +"Hardened!" Yorke laughed grimly. "You should have seen him up in the +Yukon! The man's been handling these rotten morgue cases 'till he'd +qualify for the Seine River Police. He's got so he ascribes well-nigh +everything now to 'dhrink an' th' divil.'" His face softened, "but I +know the real heart of old Burke under it all." + +About two miles down the trail Redmond halted. + +"Here it is!" he said. And he indicated an irregular, blood-soaked, +clawed-up patch in the snow where the sanguinary swath ended. They +dismounted. Slavin drawing up alongside the coroner's cutter handed over +his lines to the teamster. + +"Now!" said he, "let's shtart in! . . . Ye must have 'shpotted this on +yeh way up, Docthor?" He pointed to the patch. + +The latter nodded. "Yes! we thought it must have happened here." + +For some few seconds, with one accord the party stared about them at +their surroundings. The frozen landscape at this point presented a +singularly lonely, desolate aspect. Flat, and for the greater part +absolutely bare of brush; save where from a small coulee some half mile +to the left of the trail the tops of a cotton-wood clump were visible. +Far to the right-hand, more than a mile away, stretched the first of the +shelving benches, where the high ground sloped away in irregular jumps, +as it were, to the river. + +"Best ye shtay fwhere ye all are," cautioned the sergeant, "'till I size +up th' lay av things a bit. I du not want th' thracks fouled up. H-mm! +let's see now!" He remained in deep, thoughtful silence a space. +"Thravellin' towards us," he muttered--"th' back av th' head!" + +Hands clasped behind bent back, and with head thrust loweringly forward +from between his huge shoulders he paced slowly down the trail for some +hundred yards. That grim, intent face and the swaying gait reminded +Redmond of some huge bloodhound casting about for a scent. + +Halting irresolutely a moment, Slavin presently faced about and returned. +"Wan harse on'y!" he vouchsafed to their silent looks of enquiry. "He +had not company. Must have been shot from lift or right av th' thrail." +He stared around him at the bare sweep of ground. "Now fwhere cud any +livin' man find cover here in th' full av th' moon, tu get th' range wid +a small arm? He wud show up agin' th' snow like th' ace av shpades an' +he thried." + +Suddenly his jaw dropped and he stiffened. "Ah-hh!" His eyes rivetted +themselves on some object and his huge arm shot out. "Fwhat's yon?" + +They all stared in the direction he indicated. Plastered with frosted +snow, until it was all but undiscernible against its white background, +lay an enormous boulder--a relic, perchance, of some vast pre-historic +upheaval. It was situated at an oblique angle to the trail, about a +hundred yards distant. + +With stealthy, quickened steps Slavin made his way towards it. Tensely +they watched him. In each man's mind now was a vague feeling of +certainty of something, they knew not what. They saw him reach the +boulder, walk round it and stoop, peering at its base for a few moments. +Then suddenly he straightened up and beckoned to them. + +"Thread in file," he called out warningly. Yorke led, and, treading +heedfully in each other's foot-marks, they reached the spot. Slavin +silently pointed downwards. There, plainly discernible on the surface of +the wind-packed, hard-crusted snow, were the corrugated imprints of +overshoed feet--coming and going apparently in the direction of the +previously mentioned coulee. + +Redmond indicated two rounded impressions at the foot of the boulder, +with two smaller ones behind. "Must have hunched himself on his knees +behind, eh?" he queried in a low voice. + +Slavin nodded. The rays of the westering sun coming from back of a cloud +glinted on something in the snow, a few feet away from the tracks. It +caught Yorke's eyes and with an exclamation he picked it up. + + "_--gold, raw gold, the spent shell rolled--_" + +he quoted. "Here you are, Burke!" + +Slavin uttered a delighted oath as he examined the small, bottle-necked +shell of the automatic variety. ".38 Luger!" he said. "A high-pressure +'gat' like that is oncommon hereabouts!" Passing it on to the coroner he +whistled softly. "My God! Fwhativer sort av a gun-artist is ut +that--even allowin' for th' moonlight--can pick a man off thru' th' head +wid a revolver at this distance? . . . an' wan shell on'y? . . . 'Soapy +Smith' himself cu'dn't have beat this!" + +He proceeded to sift some fine, crisp snow in one of the imprints, then, +producing an old letter from his pocket, he flattened out the +type-written sheets of foolscap therein. Placing the blank side of the +sheet face-downwards upon the imprint he pressed down smartly. The +result was a very fair impression of the footmark, which he immediately +outlined in pencil. + +A strange ominous silence fell upon the group. Deep in wild, whirling +conjecture, each man gazed about him. The desolate, sinister aspect of +their surroundings struck them with a sudden chill. Yorke voiced the +general sentiment. + +"My God!" he said in a low voice, "but it sure is dreary!" + +With a final, self-satisfying survey at his "lay av things" Slavin +stepped well to the side of the incriminating foot-prints. "Come on!" he +said "get in file behint me! We will follow this up!" + +Silently they obeyed and padded in his rear. + +"D----d big feet, whoever owns 'em," remarked Redmond to Yorke. + +Slavin heard him. "Ay!" he flung back grimly. "An' they will shtand on +th' dhrop yet--thim same feet!" + +The tracks returning in the direction of the coulee presented a vast +contrast to the approaching imprints. Where the latter denoted an even, +steady stride, the former ran in queer, irregular fashion--sometimes +bunched together, and at others with wide spaces between. + +"'On th' double!'" remarked Slavin observantly. + +"Must have got scairt!" + +"Ah!" murmured the coroner, reflectively, "though the Bible doesn't +expressly state so, I guess Cain, too, got on the 'double' as you call +it--after he killed Abel." + +They finally reached the coulee where the tracks, debouching from the +steep edge, passed along its rim and presently descended the more shallow +end of the draw. Their leader eventually halted at the foot of a small +cotton-wood tree where the human foot-prints ended. There in the snow +they beheld a hoof-trampled space, which, together with broken twigs, +indicated a tethered horse. + +This served for comment and speculation awhile. + +The sergeant, producing a small tape measure dotted down careful +measurements of the over-shoed imprints and their length of stride, also +the size of the shod hoof-marks. + +Redmond drew his attention to blood-stains in several of the latter. +"Shod with 'never-slip' calks, Sergeant!" he said. "Must have slipped +somewhere and 'calked' himself on the 'coronet,' I guess?" + +"Eyah!" muttered Slavin approvingly, "Th' 'nigh-hind' 'tis, note, +bhoy! . . . 't'will serve good thrailin' that. Well, let's follow ut on!" + +Wearily his companions plodded on in his wake. The tracks, after +following the draw for a short distance, suddenly wound up a steep, +narrow path on the left side of the coulee. Reaching the surface of the +level ground, they circled until they struck into the main trail east +again, about a mile below where the party had left their horses. Here, +merged amongst countless others on the well-travelled highway, they +became more difficult to trace, though occasionally the faint +blood-stains proclaimed their identity. + +Slavin pulled up. "Luks as if he'd shtruck back tu Cow Run again," he +said with conviction. "Must have come from there, tu--thracks was goin' +and comin' an' ye noticed, fwhin we climbed out av th' coulee back there. +We must luk for a harse wid th' nigh-hind badly 'calked.' Yorkey! yu' +get back an' tell that Lanky Jones feller tu come on. Hitch yez own +harses behint our cutter an' take th' lines." He squinted at the sun and +pulled out his watch. "'Tis four o'clock, begob! Twill turn bitther +cowld whin th' sun goes down." + +The coroner smiled knowingly. "Talking about 'calks'!" he remarked; and +diving into the deep recesses of his fur coat he produced a +comfortable-looking leather-encased flask. "A little 'calk' all round +won't hurt us after that tramp, Sergeant!" he observed kindly. + +Their transport presently arriving, they proceeded on their way to Cow +Run, Yorke and Redmond watching carefully for any tracks debouching from +the main trail. Occasionally they dismounted to verify the incriminating +hoof-prints which still continued eastward. In this fashion they finally +drew to the level of the river, where the trail forked; one arm of it +following more or less the winding course of the Bow River back westward. +At this junction they searched narrowly until they found unmistakable +indication of the blood-tinged tracks still heading in the direction of +Cow Run. + +"What was that case of yours, Yorkey?" enquired Redmond. "You know--what +Slavin was talking about?" + +"Mix-up over that horse," replied Yorke laconically, "disputed ownership. +A chap named Moran tried to run a bluff over Larry that he'd lost the +horse as a colt. They got to scrapping and I ran 'em both up before +Gully, the J. P. here. Moran got fined twenty dollars and costs for +assaulting Blake. Say! look at that sky! Isn't it great?" + +They turned in their saddles and looked westward. Clean-cut against a +pale yellow-ochre background and enveloped in a deep purple bloom, the +mighty peaks of the distant "Rockies" upreared their eternal snow-capped +glory in a salute to departing day. Above, where the opaline-tinted +horizon shaded imperceptibly into the deep ultramarine of evening, lay +glowing streamers of vivid crimson cloud-bank edged with the gleaming +gold of the sunset's after-glow. + +It was a soul-filling sight. Against it the sordid contrast of the +sinister business in hand smote them like a blow from an unseen hand, as +they resumed their monotonous scanning of the trail on its either side. + +Yorke presently voiced the impression in both their hearts. "My God'" he +murmured "the bitter irony of it! 'Peace on Earth, goodwill towards +men' . . . and this!--what?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + _Oh! Bad Bill Brough, a way-back tough + Raised hell when he struck town; + With gun-in-fist met Sergeant Twist-- + It sure was some show-down_. + BALLAD OF SERGEANT TWIST + + +Cow Run was reached in the gathering dusk. Seen under winter conditions +the drab little town looked dreary and uninviting enough as the party +negotiated its main street. A frame-built hotel, a livery-stable, a +small church, a school-house, a line of false-fronted stores, and some +three-score dwellings failed to arouse in George an enthusiastic desire +to become a permanent resident of Cow Run. + +The corpse they deposited temporarily in an empty shack situated in the +rear of the doctor's residence. From long usage this place had come to +be accepted as the common morgue of the district. After arranging +details with the coroner anent the morrow's inquest, and carefully +searching the dead man, the sergeant and his two subordinates repaired to +the livery-stable to put up their horses. + +Nicholas Lee, the keeper of this establishment greeted them with wheezy +cordiality, apportioned to them stable-room and guaranteed especial care +of their horses. In appearance that worthy would have made a passable +understudy for the elder Weller, being red-faced, generous of girth and +short of breath. In addition to his regular calling he filled--or was +supposed to fill--the office of "town constable" and pound-keeper. A +sort of village "Dogberry." Incidentally it might be mentioned that he +also could have laid claim to be a "wictim of circumstances"; having but +recently contracted much the same sort of hymeneal bargain as did the +Dickensian character. The sympathy of Cow Run, individually and +collectively, was extended to him on this account. + +From his somewhat garrulous recital of the day's events it was +satisfactorily evident to his hearers that wind of the murder had not +struck Cow Run as yet. For obvious reasons Slavin had enjoined strict +secrecy upon Lanky Jones, Lee's stable-hand. + +"Ar!" wheezed Lee. "It's a good job yu' fellers is come. That ther +'Windy Moran's' bin raisin' hell over in the hotel th' las' two days. He +got to fightin' ag'in las' night with Larry Blake--over that hawss. Bob +Ingalls an' Chuck Reed an' th' bunch dragged 'em apart an' tol' Larry to +beat it back to his ranch--which he did. Windy--they got him to bed, an' +kep' him ther all night, as he swore he'd shoot Larry. He's still over +ther, nasty-drunk an' shootin' off what he's goin' t' do." + +He rubbed his hands in gleeful anticipation, gloating deeply in his +throat: "Stirrin' times! ar! stirrin' times! . . . Now--'bout that ther +hobo, Sargint--" + +"Aw! damn th' hobo!" exploded Slavin impatiently. "Here, Nick! show me +Windy's harse. Fwhat? Niver yeh mind fwhat for . . . now! Yu'll know +all 'bout that later." + +His native curiosity balked, the old gossip, with a slightly injured air, +indicating a big sorrel saddle-horse standing in a stall opposite the +Police team. Slavin backed the animal out. It seemed to be lame. With +fierce eagerness they examined its "nigh-hind" leg--and found what they +sought for. + +For there--where the hair joins the hoof, technically known as the +"coronet"--was a deep, jagged wound, such as is caused usually by a horse +slipping and jabbing itself with sharp-pointed shoe-calks. The hoof +itself was stained a dull red where the blood had run down. Slavin +picked up a fore-foot and exhibited to them the round-pointed, screwed-in +calks, commonly known as "neverslips." He took the measurements of the +shoe and glanced at his note-book. + +Finally, with a significant gesture and amidst dead silence, he thrust +the book back in his pocket. Handing over the horse to Lee he bade him +tie it up again. + +Wordlessly, the trio exchanged mystified glances. "See here; look, +Nick!" Slavin grasped the livery-man's fat shoulder and looked grimly +into the startled, rubicund face. "I'm a-goin' tu put a question tu yeh, +an' 'member now. . . . I want yeh tu think harrd! . . . Now--whin Larry +Blake came in tu saddle-up an' pull out last night was that ther sorrel +o' Windy's still in th' stable--or not?" + +"Eh?" gasped Lee at last, "I dunno! Me nor Lanky wasn't around when +Larry pulled out. We was over t' th' hotel, Sarjint." + +Slavin released the man's shoulder with a testy, balked gesture. "Yes! +enjoyin' th' racket an' dhrunk like th' rist, I guess! . . . 'Tis a +foine sort av town-constable yez are!" + +Nick Lee maintained his air of injured innocence. "I came round here +'bout midnight, anyways!" he protested. "I always do--jes' t' see 'f +everythin's all right. That hawss was in then, I will swear--'cause I +'member his halter-shank'd come untied and I fixed it. Ev'rythin' in th' +garden was lovely 'cep' fur that 'damned hobo sneakin' round. He was +gettin' a drink at th' trough an' I chased him. But he beat it up inta +th' loft an'--I'm that scared of fire," he ended lamely, "I never lock up +fur that." + +Slavin nodded wisely. "Yes! I guess he made his getaway from yu'--easy. +Mighty long toime since yuh've bin able tu dhrag yeh're guts up that +ladder--lit alone squeege thru' th' thrap-dhure. Bet Lanky does all th' +chorin'." He glanced around him impatiently, "But this here's all +talk--it don't lead nowheres. Hullo! this is Gully's team, ain't it?" +He indicated a splendid pair of roans standing in a double stall nearby. + +"Yes!" said Lee, "he pulled in las' night t' catch th' nine-thirty down +t' Calgary. He ain't back yet." + +"Fwas he--" Slavin checked himself abruptly--"fwhat toime did he get in +here?" + +"'Bout nine." + +"Fwhat toime 'bout fwas ut whin this racket shtarted up betune Windy an' +Larry?" + +"Oh, I dunno, Sarjint!--'bout nine, may be--as I say I--" + +"Come on!" said the sergeant, abruptly, to his men, "let's go an' eat. +Luk afther thim harses good, Nick," he flung back in a kind tone. + +Outside in the dark road they gathered together, bandying mystified +conjecture in low tones. "'Tis no use arguin', bhoys," snapped Slavin at +last, wearily, "we've got tu see Chuck Reed an' Bob Ingalls an' Brophy av +th' hotel. Their wurrd goes--they're straight men. If they had Windy +corralled all night, as Nick sez . . . fwhy! . . . that let's Windy out." + +He was silent awhile, then: "That harse av Windy's," he burst out with an +oath, "I thought 't'was a cinch. Somethin' passin' rum 'bout all this. +There's abs'lutely no mistake 'bout th' harse. Somebody in this +god-forsaken burg must ha' used him tu du th' killin' wid. Well, let's +get on." + +Suddenly, as they neared the hotel, a veritable bedlam of sound fell upon +their ears, apparently from inside that hostelry--men shouting, a dog +barking, and above all the screeching, crazed voice of a drunken man. + +The startled policemen dashed into the front entrance, through the office +and across the passage into the bar beyond, from whence the uproar +proceeded. + +"Help! Murder! Pleece!" some apparently high-strung individual was +bawling. A ludicrous, but nevertheless dangerous, sight met their eyes. + +A motley crowd, composed mainly of well-dressed passengers from off the +temporarily-stalled West-bound train and a sprinkling of townsfolk, were +backed--hands up--into a corner of the bar by a big, hard-faced man clad +in range attire who was menacing them with a long-barrelled revolver. He +was dark-haired and swarthy, with sinister, glittering eyes. One +red-headed, red-nosed individual had apparently resented parting with the +drink that he had paid for; as in one decidedly-shaky elevated hand he +still clutched his glass, its whiskey and water contents slopping down +the neck of his nearest unfortunate neighbour. + +"Mon!" he apologized, in tearful accents, "Ah juist canna help it!" + +"Pitch up!" the "bad man" was shrieking, "Pitch up! yu' ----s!--That +d----d Blake--that d----d Gully! Stealin' my hawss away'f me an' gittin' +me fined! I'll git back at somebody fur this! _Pleece_! yes!--yeh kin +holler '_Pleece_!'--Let me get th' drop on th' red-coated, yelluh-laigged +sons of ----! Ah-hh!"--His eyes glittered with his insane passion, "Here +they come! Now! watch th' ----s try an' arrest me!" + +Fairly frothing at the mouth, the man, at that moment working himself +into a frenzy, was plainly as dangerous as a mad dog. Drunk though he +undoubtedly was, he did not stagger as he stepped to and fro with +cat-like activity, his gun levelled at the policemen's heads. It was an +ugly situation. Slavin and his men taken utterly by surprise hesitated, +as well they might; for a single attempt to draw their sidearms might +easily bring inglorious death upon one or another of them. + +We have noted that on a previous occasion Redmond demonstrated his +ability to think and act quickly. He upheld that reputation now. Like a +flash he ducked behind Slavin's broad shoulders and backed into the +passage. Picking up at random the first missile available--to wit--an +empty soda-water bottle, he tip-toed swiftly along the passage to a door +opening into the bar lower down. This practically brought him +broadside-on to his man. A moment he peered and judged his distance +then, drawing back his arm he flung the bottle with all his force. At +McGill he had been a base-ball pitcher of some renown, so his aim was +true. The bottle caught its objective full in the ear. With a scream of +pain the man staggered forward and clutched with one hand at his head, +his gun still in his grip sagging floorwards. + +Instantly then, Yorke, who was the nearest, sprang at him like a tiger +and, ranging one arm around his enemy's bull neck, strove with the other +to wrest the gun from his grasp. It was a feat however, more easily +imagined than accomplished--to disarm a powerful, active man. The tense +fingers tightened immediately upon the weapon and resisted to their +uttermost. Slavin and Redmond both had their side-arms drawn now, but +they were afraid to use them, on Yorke's account. The combatants were +whirling giddily to and fro, the muzzle of the gun describing every point +of the compass. + +Taking a risky chance, Slavin, watching his opportunity suddenly closed +with the struggling men and, raising his arm brought the barrel of his +heavy Colt's .45 smashing down on the knuckles of the crazed man's +gun-hand. Instantaneously the latter's weapon dropped to the floor. + +Bang! The cocked hammer discharged one chamber--the bullet ricocheting +off the brass bar-rail deflected through a cluster of glasses and +bottles, smashing them and a long saloon-mirror into a myriad splinters. +But few of the company there escaped the deadly flying glass, as +badly-gashed faces immediately testified. It all happened in quicker +time than it takes to relate. + +"'Crown' him!" gasped Yorke, still grimly hanging onto his man, "'Crown' +the ---- good and hard!" + +Redmond sprang forward, grasping a small, shot-loaded police "billy," but +Slavin interposed a huge arm. + +"Nay!" he said sharply, and with curious eagerness, "Du not 'chrown' um +bhoy! lave um tu me!" And he grasped one of the big, struggling man's +wrists firmly in a vise-like grip. "Leggo, Yorkey!" + +The latter obeyed with alacrity, and stooping he picked up the fallen +gun. He had an inkling of what was coming. + +"Ah-hh!" Slavin gloated gutterally, as he whirled his victim giddily +around and brought the man up facing him with a violent jerk--"Windy +Moran, avick!"--softly and cruelly--"me wud-be cock av a wan-harse +dump!--me wud-be 'bad-man'! . . . Oh, yes! 'tis both shockin' an' brutil +tu misthreat ye I know but--surely, surely yeh desarve somethin' for all +this!" And he drew back his formidable right arm. + +Smack! The terrific impact of that one, terrible open-handed slap nearly +knocked his victim through the bar-room wall. The head rocked sideways +and the big body turned completely round. Eyes rushing water and one +profile now resembling a slab of bloodied liver, the man reeled about in +a circle as if bereft of sight. + +"Oh-hh!--Ooh!--No-o!--Ah-hh!" The wild, moaning cry for quarter came +gaspingly out of puffed, blood-foamed lips. But there was no mercy in +Slavin. He looked round at the wrecked bar, the glass-slashed bleeding +faces of his men and the rest of the saloon's occupants. He thought upon +many things--how near ignoble death many of them had been but a few +minutes before--upon insult and threat flaunted at them by a drunken, +ruffling braggadocio!--and he jerked the latter to him once more. + +But his two subordinates jumped forward and made violent protest. +"Steady!" It was Yorke now who appealed for leniency--"Go easy, Burke! +for God's sake! You've handed him one good swipe--if he get's another +like that he'll be all in--won't be able to talk. Let it go at that!" + +The sergeant remained silent, breathing thickly and glaring at his +prisoner with sinister, glittering eyes, and still retaining the latter's +wrist in his iron grip. But eventually the force of Yorke's reasoning +prevailed with him. Drawing out his hand-cuffs he snapped them on the +man's wrists and haled him roughly out of the bar into the hotel office. +The crowd, recovering somewhat from their scare, would have followed, but +he curtly ordered them back and closed the door. + +"Brophy!" He beckoned the angry, frightened hotel-proprietor forward. +"Is Bob Ingalls and Chuck Reed still in town?" + +"Sure!" replied the latter, "They was both in here 'bout half an hour +ago, anyways." + +Slavin turned to Yorke. "Go yu an' hunt up thim fellers an' bring thim +here!" he ordered. + +"Ravin'--clean bug-house! that's what he is!" wailed Brophy. "That bar +o' mine! oh, Lord! Yu'll git it soaked to yu' this time, Windy, an' +don't yu' furgit it!" + +The prisoner paid no attention to the landlord's revilings. Slumped down +in a chair he had relapsed into a sort of sulky stupor, though he cringed +visibly whenever Slavin bent on him his thoughtful, sinister gaze. + +Presently Yorke returned, bringing with him two respectable-looking men, +apparently ranchers, from their appearance. + +Slavin nodded familiarly to them. "Ingalls!" he addressed one of them +"I'm given tu undhershtand that yuh an' Chuck Reed there tuk charge av +this feller--" he indicated the prisoner--"last night, whin he had that +racket wid Larry Blake in th' bar? Fwhat was they rowin' over?" + +"That hawss o' Blake's mostly," was Ingalls' laconic answer. "Course +they was slingin' everythin' else they could dig down an' drag up, too." +He chewed thoughtfully a moment, "We had some time with 'em," he added. + +"Shore did!" struck in Reed. "We was scared fur Larry, so we told him to +beat it home--which he did--an' then we got Windy up to bed an' stayed +with him nigh all night." + +Slavin looked at Brophy interrogatively. "Yuh can vouch for this, tu, +Billy? He's bin in yu're place iver since th' throuble smarted?" + +Brophy nodded. "Yes! d----n him! I wish he had got out before this +bizness started. Yes! he's bin here right along, Sarjint! why?--what's +up?" + +Slavin evaded the direct question for the moment. Silently awhile he +gazed at the three wondering faces. "Now, I'll tell yez!" he said +slowly. And briefly he informed them of the murder--omitting all detail +of the clues obtained later. They listened with wide eyes and broke out +into startled exclamations. The prisoner struggled up from the chair, +his bruised, ghastly face registering fear and genuine astonishment. +Redmond shoved him back again. + +"If any feller thinks--" Moran relapsed into maudlin, hysterical +protestations of innocence, calling upon the Deity to bear witness that +he was innocent and had no knowledge whatever of how Blake came to his +death. + +Eventually silence fell upon all. Slavin cogitated awhile, then he +turned to Brophy. "Who else was in, Billy? Out av town fellers I mean, +fwhin this racket occurred betune these tu? Thry an' think now!" + +Brophy pondered long and presently reeled off a few names. Slavin heard +him out and shook his head negatively. "Nothin' doin' there!" he +announced finally, "Mr. Gully was in, yuh say? Did he see anythin' av +this row?" + +"Cudn't help it, I guess," replied Brophy. "He just come inta th' office +for his grip while it was a-goin' on. He beat it out quick for th' +East-bound as had just come in. Said he was runnin' down to Calgary. He +ain't back yet. Guess he wudn't want to go gettin' mixed up in anythin' +like that, either--him bein' a J. P." + +Slavin looked at Yorke. "Let's have a luk at that gun av Moran's!" he +remarked. "Fwhat is ut?" + +Yorke handed the weapon over. "'Smith and Wesson' single-action," he +said. "Just that one round gone." + +"Nothin doin' agin'," muttered Slavin disappointedly. He broke the gun +and, ejecting the shells put all in his pocket. He then turned to Moran. +"D----d good job for yu'--havin' this alibi, Mister Windy!" he growled, +"don't seem anythin' on yu' over this killin'--as yet! But yez are goin' +tu get ut fwhere th' bottle got th' cork for this other bizness, me man!" + +And he proceeded to formally charge and warn his prisoner. + +"Give us a room, Brophy!" he said, "a big wan for th' bunch av us--an' +lave a shake-down on th' flure for this feller!" + +Preceded by the landlord the trio departed upstairs, escorting their +prisoner. Alone in the room they discussed matters in lowered tones; +Slavin and Yorke not forgetting to compliment Redmond on his presence of +mind--or, as the sergeant put it: "Divartin' his attenshun." + +The big Irishman scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I must go wire th' +O.C. report av all this. Sind Gully comes back on th' same thrain wid +Inspector Kilbride to-morrow. Thin we can go ahead--wid two J.P.s tu +handle things. Yuh take charge av Mr. Man, Ridmond! Me an' Yorke will +go an' eat now, an' relieve yuh later." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + "The Court is prepared, the Lawyers are met, + The Judges all ranged, a terrible show!" + As Captain Macheath says,--and when one's arraigned, + The sight's as unpleasant a one as I know. + THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS. + + +"Orrrdher in Coort!" rang out Sergeant Slavin's abrupt command. It was +about ten o'clock the following morning. The hotel parlour had been +hastily transformed into a temporary court-room. A large square table +had been drawn to one end of the room and two easy chairs placed +conveniently behind it. Fronting it was a long bench, designed for the +prisoner and escort. In the immediate rear were arranged a few rows of +chairs, to accommodate the witnesses and spectators. + +The sergeant's order, prompted by the entrance of the two Justices of the +Peace, was the occasion of all present rising to attention, in customary +deference to police-court rules. One of the newcomers, dressed in the +neat blue-serge uniform of an inspector of the Force, was familiar to +Redmond as Inspector Kilbride, who had been recently transferred to L +Division from a northern district. He had close-cropped gray hair and a +clipped, grizzled moustache. Though apparently nearing middle-age he +still possessed the slim, wiry, active figure of a man long inured to the +saddle. + +The appearance of his judicial confrere fairly startled George. He was a +huge fellow, fully as tall and as heavy a man as Slavin, though not so +compactly-built or erect as the latter. Still, his wide, loosely-hung, +slightly bowed shoulders suggested vast strength, and his leisurely +though active movements indicated absolute muscular control. But it was +the strangely sombre, mask-like face which excited Redmond's interest +most. Beneath the broad, prominent brow of a thinker a pair of deep-set, +shadowy dark eyes peered forth, with the lifeless, unwinking stare of an +owl. Between them jutted a large, bony beak of a nose, with finely-cut +nostrils. The pitiless set of the powerful jaw was only partially +concealed by an enormous drooping moustache, the latter reddish in colour +and streaked with gray, like his thinning, carefully brushed hair. His +age was hard to determine. Somewhere around forty-five, George decided, +as he regarded with covert interest Ruthven Gully, Esq., +gentleman-rancher and Justice of the Peace for the district. + +The two Justices took their places with magisterial decorum, the +witnesses seated themselves again, and, all being ready, the sergeant +opened the court with its time-honoured formula. + +The inspector glanced over the various "informations" and handed them +over to his confrere for perusal. A brief whispered colloquy ensued +between them, and then the local justice settled himself back in his +chair, chin in hand. Inspector Kilbride addressed the prisoner who had +remained standing between Yorke and Redmond, and in a clear, passionless +voice proceeded to read out the several charges. + +"Do you wish to ask for a remand, Moran?" he enquired, "to enable you to +procure counsel?" + +"No, sir!" Moran's sullen, insolent eyes suddenly encountering a +dangerous, steely glare from Kilbride's gray orbs he wilted and +immediately dropped his belligerent attitude. "No use me hirin' a +mouthpiece," he added, "as I'm a-goin' t' plead guilty t' all them +charges." + +"Ah!" The inspector thoughtfully conned over the "informations" once +more. "Sergeant Slavin," said he presently, "what are the particulars of +this man's disorderly conduct?" + +He listened awhile to the sergeant's evidence, occasionally asking a +question or two, but Mr. Gully remained in the same silent, brooding, +inscrutable attitude which he had adopted at the commencement of the +proceedings. Though apparently listening keenly, his shadowy eyes +betrayed no interest whatever in the case. + +Of that face Yorke had once remarked to Slavin: "That beggar's mug fairly +haunts me sometimes. . . . He's a good fellow, Gully,--but, you +know--when he gets that brooding look on his face . . . he's the living +personification of a western Eugene Aram." + +And Slavin, engaged in shredding a pipeful of tobacco had mumbled +absently "So?--Ujin Airum!--I du not mind th' ould shtiff--fwhat was his +reg'minthal number?" + +The sergeant finished his evidence; Kilbride swung round to his +fellow-justice once more and they held a whispered consultation, the +latter making emphatic gestures throughout the colloquy. This ending the +inspector turned to the prisoner. + +"You have pleaded guilty to each of these charges. Have you anything to +say?--any explanation to offer for your reckless, disorderly conduct?" + +The prisoner swallowed nervously and shuffled with his feet. "Guess I +was drunk," he said finally, "didn't know what I was doin'." + +The inspector's grey eyes glittered coldly. "So?" he drawled ironically, +"the sergeant's evidence is to the contrary. It would appear that you +were not so very drunk. You were neither staggering nor incapable at the +time. It was merely a rehearsal of a cheap bit of dime novel sort of +bar-room, rough-house black-guardism that no doubt in various other +places you have got away with and emerged the swaggering hero. Where do +you come from? Whom are you working for now?" + +"Havre, Montana. I'm ridin' fur th' North-West Cattle Company." + +"Ah! well, let me tell you that sort of stuff doesn't go over on this +side, my man." He considered a moment and picked up a Criminal Code. +"In view of your pleading guilty to these charges, and therefore not +wasting the time of this court unnecessarily, I propose dealing with you +in more lenient fashion than you deserve. For being unlawfully in +possession of firearms you are fined twenty dollars and costs. For +'pointing fire-arms,' fifty dollars and costs. On the charge of +'resisting the police in the execution of their duty' you are sentenced +to six months imprisonment with hard labour in the Mounted Police +Guard-room at Calgary. You are also required to make restitution for all +damage caused as the result of your fracas." + +Moran squirmed and mumbled: "If I've got t' do time on the one charge I +might as well do it on th' rest, an' save th' money fur t' pay fur th' +damage." + +"Very good!" agreed the inspector coldly. He bent again to his confrere +and they conferred awhile. Then he turned to the prisoner. "Thirty days +hard labour then--on each of the first two charges--sentences to run +concurrently." He paused a space, resuming sternly: "And let me tell you +this, Moran: in view of certain wild threats uttered by you in public you +have narrowly escaped being charged with the greatest of all crimes. It +is indeed a fortunate thing for you that you have been able to produce a +reliable alibi. All right, Sergeant! you can close the court. Make out +that warrant of commitment and I and Mr. Gully will sign it later. We're +going over to see the coroner." + +The two Justices arose and passed out, the few witnesses and onlookers +drifting aimlessly in their wake. Slavin lowered himself ponderously +into the chair just vacated by the inspector, lit his pipe, and, +whistling softly, commenced to fill out a legal form. Yorke and Redmond +also took the opportunity to indulge in a quiet smoke as they chatted +together in low tones. The former good-naturedly tossed a cigarette over +to the prisoner, with the remark: "Have a smoke, Windy--it's the last +you'll get for some time." + +Moran, slumped in a tipped-back chair, blew a whiff of smoke from a +lop-sided mouth. "Six months!" chanted he lugubriously, "an' they call +this a free country!--free hell!-- + + "_Oh, bury me out on th' lone prair-ee, + Where th' wild ki-oot'll howl over me,--_ + +"--might as well an' ha' done with it!" + +They all laughed unsympathetically. "'Tis mighty lucky for yuh thim +sintences run concurrently instid av consecutively," was the sergeant's +rejoinder, "or ut'd be eight months yez ud be doin' stid av six." + +The front legs of Moran's chair suddenly hit the floor with a crash. +"Lookit here, boys," he said earnestly, "that ther big mag'strate--him as +you call Gully--is that his real name? Wher does he come from? What +countryman is he?" + +"English!" answered Yorke shortly. "Why? D'ye think an Englishman has +to run around with a blooming alias?" + +"Well, now, yu' needn't go t' git huffy with a man!" expostulated Moran, +with an injured air. "Th' reason I'm askin' yu' is this": He paused +impressively, with puckered, thoughtful eyes. "That same man--if it +ain't him--is th' dead spit of a man as once hit ---- County, in Montana +'bout ten years back. Dep'ty Sheriff--I can't mind his name now. It was +a hell of a tough county that--then. Th' devil himself 'ud ha' bin +scairt t' start up in bizness ther." He shook his head slowly. "But I +tell yu'--when Mr. Man let up with his fancy shootin' it was th' +peaceablest place in th' Union. Th' rough stuff'd drifted--what was left +above ground. He dragged it too, later. I never heered wher he went." + +"Ah!" remarked Slavin pityingly, knocking out his pipe. "Th' few shots +av hootch ye had tu throw inta yu' last night tu get ye're Dutch up must +be makin' ye see double, me man. If th' rough stuff he run inta there +was on'y th' loikes av yersilf he must have shtruck a soft snap." He +arose. "Put th' stringers on him agin, Ridmond, an' take um upstairs an' +lock um up! Yu'll be escort wid um tu Calgary whin th' East-bound comes +in--an' see here, look! . . . I want ye tu be back here agin as soon as +iver ye can make ut back. Tchkk!" he clucked fretfully, "I wish this +autopsy an' inquest was thru', so's we cud git down tu bizness. Phew! +this dive's stuffy--let's beat ut out a bit!" + +Standing on the sidewalk they gazed casually at the slowly approaching +figures of Inspector Kilbride and Mr. Gully. The two latter appeared to +be engaged in a vehement, though guarded conversation--stopping every now +and again, as if to debate a point. + +"Here cometh Moran's 'dep'ty sheriff,'" was Yorke's facetious comment. + +"By gum, though!" Redmond ejaculated, "the beggar would make a good stage +marshal, wouldn't he? . . . with that Bret Harte, forty-niner's moustache +and undertaker's mug, and top-boots and all, what?" + +"And a glittering star badge," supplemented Yorke dramatically, "don't +forget that! and two murderous-looking guns slanted across his hips and--" + +"Arrah, thin! shut up, Yorkey!" hissed the sergeant in a warning aside, +"they'll hear yez. Here they come." + +Presently the five were grouped together. Inspector Kilbride's stern +features were set in a thoughtful, lowering scowl. Mr. Gully's tanned, +leathery countenance looked curiously mottled. + +"Sergeant!" The inspector clicked off his words sharply. "This is a bad +case. We've just been viewing the body--Mr. Gully and I." With +mechanical caution he glanced swiftly round. "Let's get inside and go +over things again," he added. + +Seated in the privacy of the hotel parlour the crime was discussed from +every angle with callous, professional interest. Kilbride and Slavin did +most of the talking, though occasionally Gully interpolated with question +and comment. He possessed a deep, booming bass voice well-suited to his +vast frame. His speech, despite a slightly languid drawl, was +unquestionably that of an educated Englishman. Yorke and Redmond +maintained a respectful silence in the presence of their officer, except +to answer promptly and quietly any questions put directly to them. + +Personal revenge they decided eventually could be the only motive. +Robbery was out of the question, as the personal belongings of the dead +man had been found to be intact, including a valuable diamond ring, about +a hundred and fifty dollars in bills, and his watch, papers, etc. A +jovial, light-hearted young rancher, hailing originally from the Old +Country, a bachelor of more or less convivial habits, he had enjoyed the +hearty good-will of the country-side, incurring the enmity of no one, +with the exception of Moran, as far as they knew. The latter's alibi +having established his innocence beyond doubt, no definite clues were +forthcoming as yet, beyond the foot-prints, the horse, and the "Luger" +shell. Moran, too, they ascertained had ridden in alone, and was not in +the habit of chumming with anyone in particular. Slavin had prepared a +list of all known out-going and incoming individuals on and about the +date of the crime. This was carefully conned over. All were, without +exception, well-known respectable ranchers, and citizens of Cow Run, to +whom no suspicion could be attached. + +"No!" commented the inspector wearily, at length. "In my opinion this +has been done by someone living right here in this burg--a man whom we +could go and put our hands on this very minute--if we only had something +to work on. You'll see . . . it'll turn out to be that later. Just +about the last man you'd suspect, either. Cases like this--where the +individual has nerve enough to stay right on the job and go about his +business as usual--are often the hardest nuts to crack. You remember +that Huggard case, Sergeant?" + +Many years previous he and Slavin had been non-coms together in the +Yukon, and other divisions of the Force, and now, delving back into their +memories of crime and criminals, they cited many old and grim cases, more +or less similar to the one in hand. Yorke and Redmond listened eagerly +to their narration, but Gully betrayed only a sort of taciturn interest. +If he had any experiences of his own, he apparently did not consider it +worth while to contribute them just then; though to Slavin and Yorke he +was known to be a man who had travelled far and wide. + +"Ah!" remarked the inspector, a trifle bitterly. "If only some of these +smart individuals who write fool detective stories, with their utterly +impracticable methods, theories, and deductions, were to climb out of +their arm-chairs and tackle the real thing--had to do it for their +living--they'd make a pretty ghastly mess of things I'm thinking. It all +looks so mighty easy--in a book. You can see exactly how the thing +happened, put your hand on the man who did it, and all that, right from +the start. And you begin to wonder, pityingly, why the police were such +fools as Dot to have seen through everything right away." + +He paused a moment, continuing: "This is a law-abiding country. Crimes +like this are exceptional. We're bound to get to the bottom of this +sooner or later. When we do--there'll be quite a lot of things crop up +in our minds that we'll be wondering we never thought of before. Let me +have another look at that paper imprint of that over-shoe, Sergeant!" + +Silently, Slavin handed it over. Kilbride scrutinized it carefully, and +again went over all notes and figures connected with the crime. "Must +have been a tall man--possibly six feet, or over, from the length of the +stride," he muttered, "and heavy, from the depth of the imprint." He +noted the distance from the big boulder to where the body had first +fallen. "Gad! what shooting! . . . The man must have been a holy +fright with a revolver--to have confidence in himself to be able to kill +at that range. I've never known anything like it. Well! . . . One sure +thing"--he laughed grimly--"you can't go searching every decent citizen +here for a Luger gun, or demanding to measure his feet--without +reasonable suspicion. Why! It might be you, Sergeant--or Mr. Gully, +here . . . you're both big men. . . ." + +Long afterwards, well they remembered the inspector's random jest--how +Gully, with one hand slid into his breast, and the other dragging at his +great drooping moustache (mannerisms of his) had joined in the general +laugh with his hollow, guttural "Ha! ha!" + +The inspector's levity suddenly vanished. "That old fool of a +livery-stable keeper, Lee, or whatever his name is . . . if only he, or +someone had been around when the horse was brought back that night! +D----n it! there must have been somebody around, surely. That's what +this case hinges on." + +He looked at his watch. "Well! Work on that--to your utmost, Sergeant. +Stay right with it until you get that evidence. You'll drop onto your +man sooner or later, I know. That train should be in soon, now. I'll +have to get back. The Commissioner's due from Regina, sometime today, +and I've got to be on hand. Wire the finding of the inquest as soon as +it's over, and send in a full crime-report of everything!" + +He glanced casually at the bruised faces of Yorke and Redmond. "You men +must have had quite a tussle with that fellow, Moran!" he remarked +whimsically. "You seem to have come off the best, Sergeant. You're not +marked at all." + +"Some tussle all right, Sorr!" agreed that worthy evenly, his tongue in +his cheek. "Yu' go git yu're prisoner, Ridmond, an' be ready whin that +thrain comes in. Come back on the next way-freight west, if there's wan +behfure th' passenger. We'll need yez." + +Gully murmured some hospitable suggestion to Kilbride, and the two +gentlemen strolled into the wrecked bar. The train presently arrived and +departed eastwards, bearing on it the inspector, Redmond, and his +prisoner. + +"Strange thing," the officer had remarked musingly to Slavin, just prior +to his departure, "I seem to know that man Gully's face, but somehow I +can't place him. He introduced himself to me on the train coming up. Of +course I'm familiar with his name, as the J.P. here, but I can't recall +ever meeting him before." + +Sometime later, Slavin and Yorke, who had just returned from the gruesome +autopsy and were busily making arrangements for the afternoon's inquest, +heard a loud, cackling commotion out in the main street. They +immediately stepped outside the hotel to see what was the matter. + +Advancing towards them, and puffing with exertion and importance, they +beheld Nick Lee, haling along at arm's length an unkempt individual whom +they judged to be the hobo who had disturbed his peace of mind. A small +retinue of dirty urchins, jeering loafers, and barking dogs brought up +the rear. The village "Dogberry" drew nigh with his victim and halted, +as empurpled as probably the elder Weller was, after ducking Mr. Stiggins +in the horse-trough. + +"Sarjint!" he panted triumphantly "I did clim up that ther ladder! I did +git thru' th' trap-door! . . . an'--I did ketch that feller!" Suddenly +his jaw dropped, and he wilted like a pricked bladder. "Why! what's +up?" he queried with a crestfallen air, as he beheld Slavin's angry, +worried countenance. + +"Damnation!" muttered the latter softly and savagely to Yorke. "This +means another thrip tu Calgary--wid this 'bo'--an' me not able tu shpare +ye just now. Fwhat wid all this other bizness I'd forgotten all 'bout +him. An' we'd vagged him sooner Ridmond might have taken th' tu av thim +down tugither. Da----." The oath died on his lips and he remained +staring at the hobo as a sudden thought struck him. His gaze flickered +to Yorke's face, and his subordinate nodded comprehensively. + +Slavin beckoned to Lee. "Take um inside the hotel parlour, Nick," he +ordered, "fwhere we hild coort this mornin.' Yorkey, yu' go an' hunt up +Mr. Gully. I don't think he's pulled out yet, has he, Nick?" He spoke +now with a certain grim eagerness. + +The livery-man made a gesture in the negative, and Yorke departed upon +his quest. Slavin ushered Lee and the hobo into the room. To the +sergeant's surprise he beheld the justice sitting at the table writing. +He concluded that that gentleman must have just stepped in from the rear +entrance of the hotel, or the bar, during his own and Yorke's temporary +absence. + +At the entrance of the trio Gully raised his head and, with the pen +poised in his fingers, sat perfectly motionless, staring at them +strangely out of his shadowy eyes. His face seemed transformed into a +blank, expressionless mask. The sergeant leaned over the table and spoke +to him in a rapid aside. + +"Ah!" murmured Mr. Gully, and he remained for a space in deep thought. +"Sergeant," he began presently, "I'll have to be pulling out soon. +Before we start in with this man . . . will you kindly step down to +Doctor Cox's with these papers and ask him to sign them?" + +It seemed an ordinary request. Slavin complied. + +Returning some ten or fifteen minutes later he noticed Lee was absent. +The magistrate answered his query. "Sent him round to throw the harness +on my team," he drawled, as he pored over a Criminal Code, "he'll be back +in a moment--ah! here he is." And just then the latter entered, along +with Yorke. The hobo was sitting slumped in a chair, as Slavin had left +him. With one accord they all centred their gaze upon the unkempt +delinquent. Ragged and unwashed, he presented a decidedly unlovely +appearance, which was heightened by his stubble-coated visage showing +signs as of recent ill-usage. His age might have been anything between +thirty and forty. + +The sergeant, a huge, menacing figure of a man, stepped forward and +motioned to him to stand. "Now, see here; look, me man!" he said slowly +and distinctly, a sort of tense eagerness underlying his soft tones, +"behfure I shtart in charrgin' ye wid anythin' I'm goin' tu put a few +questions tu ye in front av this ginthleman"--he indicated the +justice--"He's a mag'strate, so ye'd best tell th' trute. Now--th' night +behfure last--betune say, nine an' twelve o'clock . . . fwhere was +ye?"--he paused--"Think harrd, an' come across wid th' straight goods." + +A tense silence succeeded. The hobo, the cynosure of a ring of watchful +expectant faces, mumbled indistinctly, "I was sleepin'--up in th' loft o' +th' livery-stable." + +"Did yeh--" Slavin eyed the man keenly--"did yeh see--or hear--any fella +take a harse out av th' shtable durin' that time?" + +Gully moved slightly. With the mannerism he affected, his left hand +dragging at his moustache and his right slid between the lapels of his +coat, he leaned forward and fixed his eyes full upon the hobo's battered +visage. + +Meeting that strange, compelling gaze the latter: stared back at him, his +face an ugly, expressionless mask. He shuffled with his feet. "Why, +yes!" he said finally, "I did heer a bunch o' fellers come in. They was +a-talkin' all excited-like 'bout a fight, or sumphin'. They was +a-hollerin', 'Beat it, Larry! beat it!' t' somewun, an' I heered some +feller say: 'All right! give us my ---- saddle!' an' then it sounded like +as if a horse was bein' taken out. I didn't heer no more after +that--went t' sleep. I 'member comin' down 'bout th' middle o' th' night +t' git a drink at th' trough. This feller come in then,"--he indicated +Lee. "He hollered sumphin' an' started in t' chase me . . . so I beat it +up inta th' loft agin'." He shivered. "'T'was cold up ther--I well-nigh +froze," he whined. + +The sergeant exhausted his no mean powers of exhortation. It was all in +vain. The hobo protested that he had neither seen nor heard anyone else +taking out, or bringing in, a horse during the night. + +Slavin finally ceased his efforts and glowered at the man in silent +impotence. "How come yez tu get th' face av yez bashed up so?" he +demanded. + +"Fell thru' one o' th' feed-holes up in th' loft," was the sulky response. + +"Fwhat name du ye thravel undher?" + +"Dick Drinkwater." + +"Eh?" the sergeant glanced critically at the red, bulbous nose. "Fwhat's +in a name?" he murmured. "Eyah! fwhat's in a name?" + +Glibly the tramp commenced an impassioned harangue, dwelling upon the +hardness of life in general, snuffling and whining after the manner of +his kind. How could a crippled-up man like him obtain work? He thrust +out a grimy right hand--minus two fingers. He had been a sawyer, he +averred. + +Slavin sniffed suspiciously. "Ye shtink av whiskey, fella!" he said +sharply. "That nose, yeh name, an' a hard-luck spiel du not go well +together. Fwhere did yu' get yu're dhrink?" + +The hobo was silent. "Come across," said Slavin sternly, "fwhere did ye +get ut?" + +"I had a bottle with me when I come off th' train," said the other, "ther +was a drop left in an' I had it just now." + +In the light of after events, well did Slavin and Yorke recall the +furtive appealing glance the hobo threw at Gully; well did they also +remember certain of Kilbride's words: "There'll be quite a lot of things +crop up in our minds that we'll be wondering we never thought of before." + +The justice cleared his throat. "Sergeant" came his guttural, booming +bass, "suppose!--suppose!" he reiterated suavely "on this occasion +we--er--temper justice with mercy--ha! ha!" His deep hollow laugh jarred +on their nerves most unpleasantly. "I need a man at my place just now," +he went on, "to buck wood and do a little odd choring around. Times are +rather hard just now, as this poor fellow says. If you insist--er--why, +of course I've no other option but to send him down . . . you understand? +I would not presume to dictate to you your duty. On the other hand . . . +if you are not specially anxious to press a charge of vagrancy against +this man I--er--am willing to give him a chance to obtain this work--that +he insists he is so anxious to find." + +Slavin's face cleared and he emitted a weary sigh of relief. "As you +will, yeh're Worship," he said. "T'will be helpin' me out, tu . . . yeh +undhershtand?" His meaning stare drew a comprehensive nod from Gully. +"I have not a man tu shpare for escort just now." + +He turned to the hobo. "Fwhat say yu', me man?" was his curt ultimatum, +"Fwhat say yu'--tu th' kindniss av his Worship? Will yeh go wurrk for +him? . . . Or be charged wid vagrancy?" + +The offer was accepted with alacrity. In the hobo's one uninjured optic +shone a momentary gleam of intelligence, as he continued to stare at +Gully, like a dog at its master. The gleam was reflected in a pair of +shadowy, deep-set eyes, unblinking as an owl's. + +Gully arose and looked at Lee. "All right then! you can hitch up my +team, Nick!" he said, and that rotund worthy waddled away on his mission. +"Come on, my man" he continued to the hobo, "we'll go round to the +stable." He turned to Slavin and Yorke, shedding his magisterial +deportment. "Well, good-bye, you fellows!" he said, with careless +bonhomie. He lowered his voice in an aside to Slavin. "Sergeant, I +trust I shall see, or hear from you again shortly. I would like to hear +the result of the inquest and--er--how you are progressing with the case." + +A few minutes later they heard the silvery jingle of his cutter's bells +gradually dying away in the distance. Slavin aroused himself from a +scowling, brooding reverie. "G----d d----n!" he spat out to Yorke, from +between clenched teeth, "ther' goes another forlorn hope. 'Tis no manner +av use worryin' tho'--let's go get that jury empannelled!" He uttered a +snorting chuckle as a thought seemed to strike him. "H-mm! Gully must +be getthin' tindher-hearthed! Th' last vag we had up behfure him he sint +um down for sixty days." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + _Take order now, Gehazi, + That no man talk aside + In secret with his judges + The while his case is tried, + Lest he should show them--reason + To keep a matter hid, + And subtly lead the questions + Away from what he did._ + KIPLING. + + +"Hullo!" quoth Constable Yorke facetiously, "behold one cometh, with +blood in her eye! Egad! Don't old gal Lee look mad? Like a wet hen. I +guess she's just off the train and Nick hasn't met her. There'll be +something doing when she lands home." + +It was about ten o'clock on the following morning. The three policemen +(Redmond had returned on a freight during the night) were standing +outside the small cottage, next the livery-stable, the abode of Nick Lee +and his spouse. After a casual inspection of their horses they were +debating as to possible suspects and their next course of action. +Yorke's remarks were directed at a stout, red-faced, middle-aged woman +who was just then approaching them. She looked flustered and angry and +was burdened down with parcels great and small. As she halted outside +the gate one of the packages slipped from her grasp and fell in the mud. +Unable to bend down, she gazed at it helplessly a moment. Yorke, +stepping forward promptly, picked up the parcel, wiped it and tucked it +under her huge arm. + +"Thank ye, Mister Yorke," she ejaculated gratefully, "'tis a gentleman ye +are," she glowered a moment at the cottage, "which is more'n I kin say +fur that mon o' mine, th' lazy good-fur-nothin', . . . leavin' me t' pack +all these things from th' train!" + +Like a tug drawing nigh to its mooring--and nearly as broad in the +beam--she came to anchor on the front steps and kicked savagely at the +door. A momentary glimpse they got of Nick Lee's face, in all its +rubicund helplessness, and then the door banged to. From an open window +soon emerged the sounds as of a domestic broil. + +"Talk av Home Rule, an' 'Th' Voice that breathed o'er Eden'," murmured +Slavin. "Blarney me sowl! just hark tu ut now?" + +From the cottage's interior came several high-pitched female squawks, +punctuated by the ominous sounds as of violent thumps being rained upon a +soft body, and suddenly the portal disgorged Lee--in erratic haste. His +hat presently followed. Dazedly awhile he surveyed the grinning trio of +witnesses to his discomfiture; then, picking up his battered head-piece +he crammed it down upon his bald cranium with a vicious, yet abject, +gesture. + +"Th' missis seems onwell this mornin'," he mumbled apologetically to +Slavin, "I take it yore not a married man, Sarjint?" + +"Eh?" ejaculated that worthy sharply, his levity gone on the instant. +"Who--me?" Blankly he regarded the miserable face of his interlocutor, +one huge paw of a hand softly and surreptitiously caressing its fellow, +"Nay--glory be! I am not." + +"Har!" shrilled the Voice, its owner, fat red arms akimbo, blocking up +the doorway, "Nick, me useless man! ye kin prate t' me 'bout arrestin' +hoboes. I tell ye right now--that hobo that was a-bummin' roun' here +t'other mornin's got nothin' on you fur sheer, blowed-in-th'-glass +laziness." + +"Fwhat?" Slavin violently contorting his grim face into a horrible +semblance of persuasive gallantry edged cautiously towards the irate +dame--much the same as a rough-rider will "So, ho, now!" and sidle up to +a bad horse. "Mishtress Lee," began he, in wheedling, dulcet tones, +"fwhat mornin' was that?" + +That lady, her capacious, matronly bosom heaving with emotion, eyed him +suspiciously a moment. "Eh?" she snapped. "Why th' mornin' after th' +night of racket between them two men at th' hotel. Th' feller come +bummin' roun' th' back-door fur a hand-out--all starved t' death--just +before I took th' train t' Calgary." She dabbed at the false-front of +red hair, which had become somewhat disarranged. "La, la!" she murmured, +"I'm all of a twitter!" + +"Some hand-out tu," remarked Slavin politely, "from th' face av um. . . . +Fwhat was ut ye handed him, Mishtress Lee, might I ask?--th' flat-iron or +th' rollin' pin?" + +"I did not!" the dame retorted indignantly. "I gave him a cup of coffee +an' sumphin' t' eat--he was that cold, poor feller--an' I arst him how +his face come t' be in such a state. He said sumphin 'bout it bein' so +cold up in th' loft he come down amongst th' horses 'bout midnight--t' +get warmed up. He said he was lyin' in one o' th' mangers asleep when a +feller brought a horse in--an' th' light woke him up an' when he went t' +climm outa th' manger th' horse got scared an' pulled back an' musta +stepped on this feller's foot--fur th' feller started swearin' at him an' +pulled him outa th' manger an' beat him up an'--" + +But Slavin had heard enough. With a most ungallant ejaculation he swung +on his heel and started towards the stable, beckoning hastily to Yorke +and Redmond to follow. + +"Yu hear that?" he burst out on them, with lowered, savage tones. "I +knew ut--I felt ut at th' toime--that shtinkin' rapparee av a hobo was +lyin'--whin he said he did not renumber a harse bein' brought back. We +must go get um--right-away!" His grim face wore a terribly ruthless +expression just then. "My God!" he groaned out from between clenched +teeth, "but I will put th' third degree tu um, an' make um come across +this toime! Saddle up, bhoys! while I go an' hitch up T an' B. +Damnation! I wish Gully's place was on the phone!" + +Some quarter of an hour later they were proceeding rapidly towards +Gully's ranch which lay some fifteen miles west of Cow Run, on the lower +or river trail. A cold wind had sprung up and the weather had turned +cloudy and dull, as if presaging snow, two iridescent "sun-dogs" +indicating a forthcoming drop in the temperature. + +Yorke and Redmond, riding in the cutter's wake, carried on a desultory. +Jerky conversation anent the many baffling aspects of the case in hand. +Gully's name came up. His strange personality was discussed by them from +every angle; impartially by Yorke--frankly antagonistically by Redmond. + +"Yes! he is a rum beggar, in a way," admitted Yorke, "not a bad sort of +duck, though, when you get to know him--when he's not in one of his +rotten, brooding fits. He sure gets 'Charley-on-his-back' sometimes. +Used to hit the booze pretty hard one time, they say. Tried the +'gold-cure'--then broke out again"--he lowered his voice at the huge, +bear-like back of the sergeant--"all same him. I don't know--somehow--it +always seems to leave em' cranky an' queer--that. Neither of 'em married +either--'baching it,' living alone, year after year, and all that, too." + +"Better for you--if you took the cure, too!" George flung at him +grinning rudely. He neck-reined Fox sharply and dodged a playful punch +from his comrade. "Yorkey, old cock, I'm goin' to break you from 'hard +stuff' to beer--if I have to pitch into you every day." + +"You're an insultin', bullyin' young beggar," remarked Yorke ruefully. +"I'll have to 'take shteps,' as Burke says, and discipline you a bit, +young fellow-me-lad! I don't wonder the old man pulled you in from +Gleichen. Come to think of it, why, you're the bright boy that they say +well-nigh started a mutiny down Regina! We heard a rumour about it up +here. Say, what was that mix-up, Reddy?" + +George chuckled vaingloriously. "All over old 'Laddie'," he said. +"'Member that white horse? I forget his regimental number, but he was +about twenty-five years old. You remember how they'd taught him to chuck +up his head and 'laugh'? I was grooming him at 'midday stables.' Old +Harry Hawker was the sergeant taking 'stables' that day. He was stalking +up and down the gangway, blind as a bat, with his crop under his arm, and +his glasses stuck on the end of his nose--peering, peering. Well, old +Laddie happened to stretch himself, as a horse will, you know, stuck out +his hind leg, and old Harry fell wallop over it and tore his +riding-pants, and just then I said 'Laugh, Laddie!' and he chucked his +old head up and wrinkled his lips back. Of course the fellows fairly +howled and Harry lost his temper and let in to poor old Laddie with his +crop. It made me mad when he started that and I guess I gave him some +lip about it. He 'pegged' me for Orderly-room right-away for +insubordination.' + +"I pleaded 'not guilty' and got away with it, too. Got all kinds of +witnesses--most of 'em only too d----d glad to be able to get back at +Harry for little things. Laddie was a proper pet of the Commissioner's. +He used to go into No. Four Stable and play with the old beggar and feed +him sugar nearly every day." + +Yorke laughed mischievously, and was silent awhile. "Gully's knocked +about a deuce of a lot," he resumed presently. "Now and again he'll open +up a bit and talk, but mostly he's as close as an oyster--and the way he +can drop that drawl and come out 'flat-footed' with the straight +turkey--why, it'd surprise you! You'd think he was an out and out +Westerner, born and bred. He's a mighty good man on a horse, and around +cattle--and with a lariat. I don't know where the beggar's picked it up. +He claims he's only been in this country five years. Talks mostly about +the Gold Coast, and Shanghai, and the Congo. A proper 'Bully Hayes' of a +man he was there, too, I'll bet! He never says much about the States, +though I did hear him talking to a Southerner once, and begad, it was +funny! You could hardly tell their accents apart. + +"Oh, he's not a bad chap to have for a J.P. It's mighty hard to get any +local man to accept a J.P.'s commission, anyway. They're most of 'em +scared of it getting them in bad with their neighbours. Gully--he +doesn't care a d----n for any of 'em, though. He'll sit on any case. +It's a good thing to have a man who's absolutely independent, like that. +I sure have known some spineless rotters. No, we might have a worse J.P. +than Gully." + +"Oh, I don't know," rejoined Redmond thoughtfully, "may be he's all +right, but, somehow . . . the man's a kind of 'Doctor Fell' to me--has +been--right from the first time I 'mugged' him. Chances are though, that +it's only one of those false impressions a fellow gets. What's up?" + +Yorke, shading his eyes from the cutting wind was staring ahead down the +long vista of trail. "Talk of the Devil!" he muttered, "why! here the +---- comes!" Aloud, he called out to Slavin. "Oh, Burke! here comes +Gully--riding like hell, I know that Silver horse of his." + +And, far-off as yet, but rapidly approaching them at a gallop, they +beheld a rider. + +"Sure is hittin' th' high spots," remarked the sergeant wonderingly, +"fwhat th' divil's up now?" + +Gradually the distance lessened between them and presently Gully, mounted +upon a splendid, powerfully-built gray, checked his furious pace and +reined in with an impatient jerk, a few lengths from the police team. +Redmond could not help noticing that Gully, for a heavy man, possessed a +singularly-perfect seat in the saddle, riding with the sure, free, +unconscious grace of an _habitue_ of the range. He was roughly dressed +now, in overalls, short sheepskin coat, and "chaps." + +He shouted a salutation to the trio, his usually immobile face +transformed into an expression of scowling anxiety. "Hullo!" he boomed, +his guttural bass sounding hoarse with passion, "You fellows didn't meet +that d----d hobo on the trail, I suppose? . . . I'm looking for him--in +the worst way!" + +He flung out of saddle and strode alongside the cutter. "About two hours +ago--'not more, I'll swear--I pulled out to take a ride around the +cattle--like I usually do, every day. I left the beggar busy enough, +bucking fire-wood. I wasn't away much over an hour, but when I got back +I found he'd drifted--couldn't locate him anywhere. + +"Then I remembered I'd left some money lying around--inside the drawer of +a bureau in my bedroom--'bout a hundred, I guess--in one of these +black-leather bill-folders. Sure enough, it's gone, too. Damnation!" + +He leaned up against the cutter and mopped his streaming forehead. "I +was a fool to ever attempt to help a man like that out," he concluded +bitterly. "It serves me right!" + +"Well," said Slavin, with an oath, "th' shtiff cannot have got far-away +in that toime. I want um as bad as yuh, Mr. Gully. We were on th' way +tu yu're place for um. See here; luk!" + +Gully heard him out and whistled softly at the conclusion of the +narrative. "Once collar this man, Sergeant," said he, "and--you've +practically got your case. Make him talk?"--the low, guttural laugh was +not good to hear--"Oh, yes! . . . I think between us we could accomplish +that all right! . . . Yes-s!" + +His voice died away in a murmur, a cruel glint flickered in his shadowy +eyes, and for a space he remained with folded arms and his head sunk in a +sort of brooding reverie. Suddenly, with an effort, he seemed to arouse +himself. "Oh, about that inquest, Sergeant," he queried casually, "what +was the jury's finding? I was forgetting all about that." + +"Eyah; on'y fwhat yuh might expect," replied the latter. "Death by +shootin', at th' hand av some person unknown. I wired headquarthers +right-away." He made a slightly impatient movement. "Well, we must get +busy, Mr. Gully; this shtiff connot be far away. Not bein' on th' +thrail, betune us an' yu', means he's either beat ut shtraight south from +yu're place an' over th' ice tu th' railway-thrack, or west a piece, an' +thin onto th' thrack. Yu'll niver find a hobo far away from th' line. +He'd niver go thrapsein' thru' th' snow tu th' high ground beyant. Yuh +cud shpot him plain for miles--doin' that--comin' along." + +"He's wearing old, worn-out boots," said Yorke, "got awful big feet, too, +I remember. Of course this trail's too beaten up from end to end to be +able to get a line on foot-prints. We might work slowly back to your +place, though, Mr. Gully, and keep a lookout for any place where he may +have struck south off the trail, as the Sergeant says." + +It seemed the only thing to do. The party moved leisurely forward, Gully +riding ahead of the cutter, Yorke and Redmond in its wake, as before, +well-spread out on either side of the well-worn trail. Here, the snow +was practically undisturbed, affording them every opportunity of +discovering fresh foot-prints debouching from the main trail. It was +rather exacting, monotonous work, necessitating cautious and leisurely +progress; but they stuck to it doggedly until sometime later they rounded +a bend in the river and came within sight of Gully's ranch, about a mile +distant. + +Presently that gentleman pulled up and swung out of saddle. "Half a +minute," he said, "my saddle's slipping! I want to tighten my cinch." + +The small cavalcade halted. Slavin's restless eyes roving over the +expanse of unbroken snow on his left hand, suddenly dilated, and he +uttered an eager exclamation, pointing downwards with outflung arm. + +"Ah," said he grimly, "here we are, I'm thinkin'!" And he clambered +hastily out of the cutter. + +Yorke and Redmond, dismounting swiftly, stepped forward with him and +examined minutely the unmistakably fresh imprints of large-sized feet +angling off from the trail towards the bank of the frozen river. + +"Hob-nailed boots!" ejaculated Yorke. "Guess that must be him, all +right, Mr. Gully?" + +The latter bent and scrutinized the imprints. "Sure must be," he +rejoined, with conviction. "A man walking out on the range is a +curiosity. I can't think how I could have missed them--coming along. +But I guess I was so mad, and in such a devil of a hurry I didn't notice +much. I made sure of catching up to him somewhere on the trail." + +Slavin beckoned to Redmond and, much to that young gentleman's chagrin, +bade him hold the lines of the restless team, while he (Slavin), along +with Yorke and Gully, started forwards trailing the footprints. Arriving +at the river's edge they slid down the bank and followed the tracks over +the snow-covered ice to the centre of the river. Here was open water for +some distance; the powerful current at this point keeping open a ten-foot +wide steaming fissure. The tracks hugged its edge to a point about four +hundred yards westward, where the fissure closed up again and enabled +them to cross to the opposite bank. Clambering up this their quest led +them across a long stretch of comparatively level ground to the fenced-in +railway-track. + +Ducking under the lower strand of wire they reached the line. At the +foot of the graded road-bed, Slavin, who was ahead, halted suddenly and +uttered an oath. Stooping down he picked up something and, turning round +to his companions exhibited his find. It was a small, black-leather +bill-folder--empty. + +Gully regarded his lost property with smouldering eyes, and he uttered a +ghastly imprecation. "Yes, that's it," he said simply, "beggar's boned +the bills and chucked this away for fear of incriminating evidence--in +case he was nabbed again, I suppose. The bills were mostly in fives and +tens--Standard Bank--I remember." + +They climbed up onto the track to determine whether the foot-prints +turned east or west; but further quest here proved useless, on account of +its being a snow-beaten section-hand trail. + +Slavin balked again, swore in fluent and horrible fashion. For a space +he remained in brooding thought, then he turned abruptly to his +companions. + +"Come on," he jerked out savagely, "let's get back." + +In silence they retraced their steps and eventually reached their horses. +Here the sergeant issued curt orders to his men. + +"'Tis onlikely th' shtiff can have got very far away--in th' toime Mr. +Gully tells us," he said, "an' he cannot shtay out in th' opin for long +this weather. Get yu're harses over th' ice, bhoys, an' make th' thrack. +Ye'll find an' openin' in th' fence somewheres. Thin shplit, an' hug th' +line--west, yu', Yorkey--as far as Coalmore--yu', Ridmond--back tu Cow +Run. Yez know fwhat tu du. Pass up nothin'--culverts, bridges, +section-huts--anywhere's th' shtiff may be hidin'. If yez du not dhrop +onto um betune thim tu places--shtay fwhere yez are an' search all +freights. 'Phone th' agent at Davidsburg if yez want tu get me. I'm +away from there now--to wire east an' west. Thin--I'm goin' tu ride +freight awhile, up an' down th' thrack. I can get Clem Wilson tu luk +afther T an' B. We must get this man, bhoys." + +"Look here, Sergeant," broke in Gully good-naturedly, "as this is partly +on my account I feel it's up to me to try and do what little I can do to +help you in this case. There's not much doing at the ranch just now, so, +if you've no objection, I'll put Silver along with your team and come +with you. As you say--we've simply got to get this fellow, somehow." + +"Thank ye, Mr. Gully," responded Slavin gratefully, "betune th' bunch av +us we shud nail th' shtiff all right." + +"Should!" agreed the magistrate, enigmatically, "'stiff's' the word for +him." He glanced up at the lowering sky. "Hullo! It's beginning to +snow again--you found those tracks just in time, Sergeant." + + +Six days elapsed. Six days of fruitless, monotonous work. The evening +of the seventh found the trio disconsolately reunited in their +detachment. Their quest had failed. Slavin, not sparing himself, had +worked Yorke and Redmond to the limits of their endurance, and they, +fully realizing the importance of their objective, had responded loyally. + +Gully, apparently betraying a keen interest in the case, had gone out of +his way to assist them--both on the railroad and in scouring the +country-side. They were absolutely and utterly played out, and their +nerves were jangled and snappy. No possible hiding-place had been +overlooked--yet the hobo--Dick Drinkwater--the one man who undoubtedly +held the key to the mysterious murder of Larry Blake--had disappeared as +completely as if the earth had swallowed him up. + +The horses cared for, and supper over, Yorke and Redmond lay back on +their cots and _blague'd_ each other wearily anent their mutual ill-luck. +Slavin, critically conning over a lengthy crime-report on the case that +he had prepared for headquarters, flung his composition on the table and +leant back dejectedly in his chair. + +"Hoboes?" quoth he, darkly, and tongue-clucked in dismal fashion. "Eyah! +I just fancy I can hear th' ould man dishcoursin' tu Kilbride av th' +merry, int'restin' ways an' habits av th' genus--hobo--whin he get's this +report av mine. . . . Like he did wan day whin he was doin' show-man +round th' cells wid a bunch av ould geezers av 'humanytaruns.' I mind I +was Actin' Provo' in charge av th' Gyard-room at th1 toime." + +He sighed deeply, folded up the report and thrust it into an official +envelope. "Well, bhoys," he concluded, "we have done all that men +can'--for th' toime bein' anyways." + +Yorke laughed somewhat mirthlessly and gazed dreamily up at his pictures. +"Sure have," he agreed languidly; "from now on, though, I guess we'll +just have to take a leaf out of Micawber's book--'wait for something to +turn up,' eh, Reddy, my old son?" + +There was no answer. That young worthy, utterly exhausted, had drifted +into the arms of Morpheus. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + _A jest's prosperity lies in the ear + Of him that hears it, never in the tongue + Of him that makes it._ + SHAKESPEARE. + + +Number Six, from the East, drew up at the small platform of Davidsburg +and presently steamed slowly on its way westward, minus three passengers. + +"Well, bhoys," said Sergeant Slavin to his henchmen, "here we are---back +tu th' land av our dhreams wanst more. Glory be! But I'm glad tu be +quit av that warrm, shtinkin' courthroom. Denis Ryan--th' ould rapparee, +he wint afther us harrd--in that last case. Eyah! But I thrimmed um in +th' finals. Wan Oirishman cannot put ut over another wan." + +He softly rubbed his huge hands together. "Five years! That'll tache +Mishter Joe Lawrence tu go shtickin' his brand on other people's cattle! +But--blarney me sowl! Ryan sure is a bad man tu run up agin when he's +actin' for th' defence." + +The trio had just returned from a Supreme Court sitting where they had +been handling their various cases. It was a gloriously sunny day in +June. A wet spring, succeeded by a spell of hot weather, had transformed +the range into a rolling expanse of green, over which meandered bunches +of horses and cattle, their sleek hides and well-rounded bodies +proclaiming abundant assimilation of nourishing pasture. + +To men who for the past week had of necessity been confined within the +stifling atmosphere of a crowded court-room, their present surroundings +appealed as especially restful and exhilarating. During their absence +their horses had been enjoying the luxury of a turn-out in the fenced +pasture at the rear of the detachment, where there was good feed and a +spring. + +The murder of Larry Blake the previous winter still remained a baffling +mystery. Locally it had proved, as such occurrences usually do, merely a +proverbial nine days wonder. Long since, in the stress and interest of +current events, it had faded more or less from the minds of all men, +excepting the Mounted Police, who, though saying little concerning it, +still kept keenly on the alert for any possible clue. Equally mystifying +was the uncanny disappearance of the hobo--Drinkwater. So far that +individual had succeeded in eluding apprehension, although minute +descriptions of him had been circulated broadcast to police agencies +throughout Canada and the United States. + +"Eyah!" Sergeant Slavin was wont to remark sagely: "'Tis an ould saying +bhoys--'Murdher will out'--we'll sure dhrop onto it sooner or lather, an' +thin belike we'll get th' surprise av our lives--for I firmly believe, as +Kilbride said--'t'will prove tu be some lokil man who had a grudge agin' +pore Larry for somethin' or another. So--just kape on quietly +watchin'--an' listh'nin, an' we'll nail that fella yet." + +Just now that worthy was surveying his subordinates with a care-free +smile of bonhomie. "Guess we'll dhrop inta th' shtore on our way up" +suggested he, "see'f there's any mail, an' have a yarn wid ould MacDavid." + +Half way up the long, winding, graded trail that led to the detachment, +the trio turned into another trail which traversed it at this point. +Following this for some few hundred yards westward they reached the +substantial abode of Morley MacDavid, who was, as his name suggested, the +hamlet's oldest settler and its original founder. + +His habitation--combining store, post-office, and ranch-house--was a +commodious frame dwelling, unpretentious in appearance but not wanting in +evidences of prosperity. Its rear presented the usual aspect of a ranch, +with huge, well-built barns and corrals. Although it was summer, many +wide stacks of hay and green oats, apparently left over from the previous +season, suggested that he was a cautious man with an eye to stock-feeding +during the winter months. To neglect of the precaution of putting up +sufficient feed to tide over the severe weather might be attributed most +of the annual ranching failures in the West. The MacDavid establishment +bore a well-ordered aspect, unlike many of the unthrifty, ramshackle +ranches, of his neighbours. The fencing was of the best, and there were +no signs of decay or dilapidation in any of the buildings. Dwarf pines +were planted about and a Morning Glory vine over-ran the house, giving +the place an air of restful domesticity. As they entered the store the +trio noticed a saddle-horse tied to the hitching-rail outside. + +They were greeted jovially by MacDavid himself. Lounging behind his +store-counter, with his back up against a slung pack of coyote skins, he +was listening in somewhat bored fashion to a talkative individual +opposite. He evidently hailed their arrival as a welcome diversion. In +personality, Morley MacDavid was an admirable type of the western +pioneer. A tall, slimly-built, but wiry, active man of fifty, or +thereabouts, with grizzled hair and moustache. Burnt out and totally +ruined three successive times in the past by the depredations of +marauding Indians, the fierce, indomitable energy of the broken man had +asserted itself and enabled him finally to triumph over all his +mischances. Aided in the struggle by his devoted wife, who throughout +the years had bravely faced all dangers and hardships with him, he had +eventually accumulated a hard-won fortune. In addition to the patronage +that he received from the local ranches, he conducted an extensive +business trading with the Indians from the big Reserve in the vicinity. +A man of essentially simple habits, through sentiment or ingrained +thriftiness, he disdained to abandon the routine and the scenes of his +former active life, although his bank-balance and his holdings in land +and stock probably exceeded that of many a more imposing city magnate. + +The newcomers, disposing themselves comfortably upon various sacked +commodities, proceeded to smoke and casually inspect the voluble +stranger. He was a tallish, well-built man nearing middle-age, with a +gray moustache, a thin beak of a nose, and a bleached-blue eyes. He was +dressed in an old tweed suit, obviously of English cut, a pair of +high-heeled, spurred riding-boots and a cowboy hat. Vouchsafing a brief +nod to the visitors he continued his conversation with MacDavid. + +"Ya-as," he was drawling, "one of the most extraordinary shots you ever +heard of, Morley! I was between the devil and the deep sea--properly. +There was the bear--rushing me at the double and there was the cougar +perched growling up on the rock behind me. I made one jump sideways and +let the bear have it--slap through the brain, and . . . that same shot, +sir, ricocheted up the face of the rock and killed the cougar--just as he +was in the act of springing! By George, y'know, it was one of the +swiftest things that ever happened!" + +A tense silence succeeded the conclusion of this thrilling narrative. + +MacDavid re-lit his pipe and puffed thoughtfully awhile. "Eyah," he +remarked reminiscently, "feller does run up against some swift +propositions now an' again. I mind one time I was headin' home from +Kananaskis, an' a bear jumped me from behind a fallen log. The lever of +me rifle jammed so, all I could do was to beat it--in a hurry--an' I sure +did hit th' high spots, you bet! It was in th' early spring an' th' snow +still lay pretty deep, but--I'd got a twenty yards start of that bear, +an' I finally beat him to it an' made my get-away." + +The stranger whistled incredulously. "Wha-a-tt!" he almost shouted, +"D'ye mean to tell me that bear got within twenty yards of you and +couldn't catch you? Why, man! It's incredible!" + +"Fact," replied MacDavid calmly, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, "It +was this way: It was near th' edge of th' bush where th' bear first +jumped me, an'--just as we hit th' open ground--one o' them warm Chinook +winds sprung up behind us, travellin' east. . . . + +"Man!" He paused impressively. "The way that wind started in to melt th' +snow was a corker--just like lard in a fryin'-pan. But--I just managed +to keep ahead of it an' while I had a good, hard surface of snow to run +on, the bear--why he was sloppin around in th' slush in my wake--couldn't +get a firm foothold, I guess. . . ." + +His keen blue orbs stared full into the bleached ones of his vis-a-vis. + +"I figure that there Chinook an' me an' th' bear must have been all +travellin' 'bout th' same line of speed--kind of swift. After a mile or +two of it, th' bear--he got fed up an' quit cold," he ended gravely. +"Why--what's your hurry, Fred?" + +But that individual, feebly raising both arms with a sort of hopeless +gesture, suddenly grabbed up his mail and beat a hasty retreat to his +horse. + +The hoof-beats died away and MacDavid turned to the grinning policemen. +"Fred Storey," he said, in answer to their looks of silent enquiry. +"Runs th' R.U. Ranch, out south here. Not a bad head, but"--he sighed +deeply--"he's such an ungodly liar. I can't resist gettin' back at him +now an' again--just for luck. He's up here on a visit--stayin' with th' +Sawyers." + +"H-mm!" ejaculated Yorke, "seems to me I've got a hazy recollection of +meeting up with that fellow before--somewhere. In a hotel in High River, +I think it was. Beggar was yarning about Cuba, I remember." + +"Bet it was hazy all right," was Redmond's sarcastic rejoiner, "like most +of your bar-room recollections, Yorkey." He gave vent to a snorting +chuckle. "That 'D'you know? Ya! ya!' accent of his reminds me of that +curate in 'The Private Secretary.' I saw it played to Toronto, once." + +At this juncture the door opened, and a trio of Indians padded softly +into the store with gaily-beaded, moccasined feet. Two elderly bucks and +a young squaw. The latter flashed a shy, roguish grin at the white men, +and then with the customary effacement of Indian women withdrew to the +rear of the store. Squatting down, all huddled-up in her blanket, she +peered at them with the incurious, but all-seeing stare of her tribe. +George got an impression of beady black eyes and a brown, rounded, +child-like face framed in a dazzling yellow kerchief. + +The two bucks, with a momentary gleam of welcome wrinkling their +ruthless, impassive features, exchanged a salutation with MacDavid in +guttural Cree, which language the latter spoke fluently. They were +clothed in the customary fashion of their tribe--with a sort of +blanket-capote garment reaching below the knee, their lower limbs swathed +in strips of blanket, wound puttee-wise. Battered old felt hats +comprised their head-gear, below which escaped two plaited pig-tails of +coarse, mane-like, black hair, the latter parted at the nape of the neck +and dangling forward down their broad chests. + +Slavin and Yorke hailed them familiarly. The elder buck rejoiced in the +sonorous title of "Minne-tronk-ske-wan," but divers convictions for +insobriety under the Indian Liquor Act, and the facetious tongue of +Yorke, had contorted this into the somewhat opprobrious nickname of "Many +Drunks." His companion was known as "Sun Dog." + +They now proceeded to shake hands all around. "How! Many Drunks!" +shouted Yorke. Pointing to Redmond, he added "oweski skemoganish" (new +policeman). With a ferocious grin, intended for an ingratiating smile of +welcome, Many Drunks advanced upon George, with outstretched hand. In a +rapid aside Yorke said: "Listen, Reddy, to what he says, he only knows +six or seven words of English, but he's as proud as Punch of 'em--always +likes to get 'em off on a stranger. Don't laugh!" + +Within a pace of Redmond that gentleman halted. "How!" he grunted, and, +pausing impressively drew himself up and tapped his inflated chest, +"Minne-tronk-ske-wan! . . . great man!--me--" + +And then Redmond nearly choked, as Many Drunks, with intense gravity, +proudly conferred upon himself the most objectionable title that exists +in four words of the English language--rounding that same off with a +majestic "Wah! wah!" + +Turning, George beheld himself the target of covert grins from the +others, who evidently were familiar with Many Drunks' linguistic +attainments. Sun Dog merely uttered "How! Shemoganish." He did not +profess ability to rise to the occasion like his companion. + +Yorke, who was evidently in one of his reckless, rollicking moods, +proceeded to make certain teasing overtures to Many Drunks. His +knowledge of Cree being nearly as limited as that worthy's knowledge of +English, he enlisted the aid of MacDavid as interpreter. The dialogue +that ensued was something as follows: + +"Tell him I'm fed up with the Force and am thinking seriously of going to +live on the reserve--_monial nayanok-a-weget_--turn 'squaw-man'--'take +the blanket.'" + +MacDavid translated swiftly, received the answer, and turned to Yorke. +"He says '_Aie-ha_! (yes) You make good squaw-man.'" + +"Ask him--if I do--if he'll _muskkatonamwat_ (trade) me the young lady +over in the corner there, for two bottles of _skutiawpwe_ (whiskey)." + +"He says '_Nemoyah_!' (no)--if he does that, you'll turn around and +_kojipyhok_ (arrest) him for having liquor in his possession." + +"Tell him--_Nemoyah_! I won't." + +"He says _Aie-hat ekwece_! (Yes, all right) you can have her. Says +she's his brother's wife's niece. But he says you must give him the two +bottles of _skutiawpwe_ first, though." + +The object of these frivolous negotiations had meanwhile covered her head +with the blanket, from the folds of which issued shrill giggles. Sun +Dog, who had been listening intently with hand scooped to ear (he was +somewhat deaf), now precipitated himself into the discussion. Violently +thrusting his elder companion aside he commenced to harangue MacDavid in +an excited voice and with vehement gestures of disapprobation of the +whole proceedings. The trader translated swiftly: + +"He says _Nemoyah_!--not to give the bottles to Many Drunks, as when he +gets full of _skutiawpwe_ he raises hell on th' reserve, an' there's no +livin' with him. Says he beats up his squaw an' starts in to scalp th' +dogs an' chickens." + +"Shtop ut!" bawled Slavin, "d'ju hear, Yorkey? . . . shtoolin' th' +nitchie on tu commit a felony an' th' like, thataways!" He sniffed +disgustedly. "_Skutiawpwe_ an' squaws! . . . blarney me sowl! but ye've a +quare idea av a josh. 'Tis a credit y'are tu th' Ould Counthry, an' no +error. I do not wondher ye left ut." + +"Sh-sh!" said that gentleman soothingly, "coarsely put, Burke! coarsely +put! . . . Say Wine and Women, guv'nor! Wine and Women! If you were in +India, Burke, they'd make you Bazaar-Sergeant--put you in charge of the +morals of the regiment. Both items are all right--always providing you +don't get a lady like Misthress Lee for a chaser. How'd you like to be +in Nick's shoes? What 'shteps' would you take?" + +Slavin stared at his tormentor, blankly, a moment. "Shteps?" he +ejaculated sharply, "fwhat shteps?" . . . He leant back with a fervent +sigh and softly rubbed his huge hands together. "Long wans, avick! . . . +eyah, d----d long wans, begorrah!" + +Many Drunks now realizing that he was merely the victim of a joke, +scowled in turn upon Yorke. Muttering something to MacDavid he backed up +against the wall and, squatting down, proceeded philosophically to fill +his pipe. + +"What's that he said?" queried Yorke of the interpreter, "I couldn't +catch it." + +The latter grinned. "He says--of all the white men he's ever met in his +time, Stamixotokon[1] and my self are the only ones he's ever known to +tell th' truth." + +"It's my belief the beggar'd flirt with Mrs. Lee, himself, if he only got +the chance" said Redmond laconically, "d'you recollect that day he picked +her parcel up for her--how nice she was to him?" + +"Eyah," said Slavin darkly, "I remimber ut! That man"--he darted an +accusing finger at Yorke--"wud thry tu come th' Don Jewan wid anything +wid a shkirrt on--from coast to coast. _Flirrt_? Yeh're tellin' th' +trute, bhoy, yeh're tellin' th' trute! He'd a-made a good undhershtudy +for ould Nobby Guy, down Regina." + +He settled himself comfortably and lit his pipe. "Eyah, th' good ould +days, th' good ould days!" he resumed reminiscently, between puffs, "Hark +now till I tell ye th' tale av ould Nobby!" + +"Is that the man they used to Josh about, down Regina?" enquired Redmond. +"Used to say 'I'm a man of few words'?" + +Slavin nodded affirmatively. "That's him, Sarjint in charrge av th' town +station he was--years back. This is--whin I was Corp'ril at +headquarthers. A foine big roosther av a man was Nobby, wid a mighty +pleasant way wid um--'specially wid th' ladies. Wan night--blarney me +sowl! Will I iver forghet ut? Nobby 'phones up th' Gyard-room +reporthin' th' Iroquois Hotel on fire, an' requestin' th' O.C. for a +shquad av men tu help fight ut, an' kape th' crowd back. So down we +wint, a bunch av us. It sure was a bad fire all right. No lives was +lost, but th' whole shebang was burnt tu th' ground. Kapin' th' crowd +back was our hardest job. Du fwhat we cud, we cud not make some av th' +silly fules kape back clear av th' danger-zone--wimmin an' all, bedad! + +"By and by, a section av the wall tumbles an' quite a bunch av people got +badly hurt--Nobby amongst thim. We dhragged thim out as quick as we cud +an' laid them forninst th' wall av a buildin' near-by--awaithin' some +stretcher-bearers. Nobby'd got his leg bruk, but he seemed chipper +enough an' chewed th' rag wid us awhile. Next tu him was a +wumman--cryin' something pitiful--she'd got her leg bruk, tu. Nobby +rised him up on his elbow an' lukked at her. + +"Now, 'tis powerful dhry wurrk, bhoys, fightin' fire, an' may be +Nobby--well, I cannot account for ut otherwise--him havin' th' nerve' tu +du' fwhat he did--onless p'raps 't'was just th' natch'ril +tindher-hearthedness av th' man--thryin' for tu comfort her. Afther that +wan luk tho', Nobby he 'comes tu th' halt,' so tu shpake, an' 'marks +time' awhile considherin'--for becod, she was a harrd-lukkin ould +case--long beyant mark av mouth. + +"Presintly, sez he: 'I'm a man av few wurrds!--'tis of then I have kissed +a _young_ wumman!'--an' he thwirls th' big buck moustache av um very +slow--'fwhy shud I not kiss an ould wan? . . .'--_an' he did_. . . . + +"That's how th' man's throuble shtarted. Brought ut all on umsilf. +Course at th' toime, fwhy! she slapped th' face av um an' called um all +manner av harrd names--but, all th' same! she must have liked ut, for +while they was convalescin' she was everlashtingly sendhin Nobby notes +an' flowers an' such like. But for all that Nobby wud have no thruck wid +her, for all she was a widder, well fixed--wid a house av her own an' +lashuns av money. Whin they was both out av hospital she was afther urn +again, an' du fwhat he cud he cud not shake that wumman. + +"Th' ind av ut was, Nobby reports sick, an' th' reg'minthal docthor, ould +'Knockemorf' Probyn, gives um th' wance over. He luks over some papers +an' sez he: 'A change an' a rist is fwhat yu' need, Sarjint Guy. There's +a dhraft leavin' next week for Herschell Island[2]--I think I will mark +yu up fur ut.' + +"'_Herschell Island_?' sez pore Nobby, an' wid that he let's out a howl. + +"'Tut, tut!' sez ould Knockemorf, who was wise tu th' man's throuble. +'Tis safer off there'll yu'll be, man, than here, I'm thinkin'.' + +"He was shtandin' by th' Gyard-room gate that day-week whin th' dhraft +marched out on their way tu enthrain--Nobby amongst thim. 'Good-bye, +Docthor!' he calls out, tears in th' eyes av um, ''Tis sendhin me tu me +grave y'are, God forgive yez!' + +"'Nonsince!' shouts Knockemorf. 'Say yeh prayers an' kape yeh bowils +opin, me man, an' ye will take no harrm!' + +"Some sind-off! well!--time wint on, an' wan day I gets a letther from me +ould friend, Ginger Johnson, who was stationed there tu, tellin' me all +th' news. Nobby, sez he, was doin' fine, fat as a hog, an' happy as a +coon in a melun patch. Wan day, sez he, a buck av th' name av Wampy +Jones comes a runnin' inta th' Post, wid th' face av a ghost an' th' hair +av um shtickin shtraight up. Said a Polar bear'd popped out forninst a +hummock an' chased um--like tu th' tale av Morley, here. Nobby, sez +Johnson, on'y grins at th' man, an' sez he: 'That's nothin'!' An' thin +he shtarts in tellin' thim all 'bout this widder at Regina." + + +[1] Note by Author--The late Colonel Macleod, who for many years was +Commissioner of the R.N.W.M. Police. He was greatly respected and +trusted by all the Indian tribes. + +[2] Note by Author--This island is in the Arctic Circle. The most +northerly post of the R.N.W.M. Police. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + Methought I heard a voice cry, + "Macbeth shall sleep no more!" + MACBETH + + +The sergeant's story evoked a general laugh from his hearers. He arose +and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. "Come on, bhoys!" said he. +"Let's beat ut. Morley here's a respectable married man--we've bin +demoralisin' him an' his store long enough, I'm thinkin'." + +Pocketing his packet of mail he and his subordinates stepped to the door, +MacDavid casually following them outside. Tethered to the hitching-post, +they noticed, were the team of scare-crow cayuses belonging to Sun Dog +and Many Drunks. + +"Poor beggars look as if a turn-out on the range wouldn't do them any +harm," remarked Redmond. + +The thud of hoof-beats suddenly fell upon their ears and, turning, they +beheld Gully on his gray horse loping past them, about twenty yards +distant. Apparently in a hurry, he merely waved to them and rode on, +heading in the direction of his ranch. And then occurred a startling, +sinister incident which no man there who witnessed it ever forgot. + +Suddenly, with the vicious instinct of Indian curs, three dogs which had +been sprawling in the shade of the dilapidated wagon-box sprang forward +simultaneously in a silent, savage dash at the horse's heels. The +nervous animal gave a violent jump, nearly unseating its rider, who +pitched forward onto the saddlehorn. + +They heard his angry, startled oath, and saw him jerk his steed up and +whirl about, then, quick as conjuring, came a darting movement of his +right hand between the lapels of his coat and a pistol-barrel gleamed in +the sun. + +The curs, by this time, were flying back to the shelter of the wagon-box, +but ere they reached it--crack! crack! crack! three shots rang out in +quick succession, and three lumps of quivering canine flesh sprawled +grotesquely on the prairie. + +The startled spectators stared aghast. Startled--for, though all of them +there were more or less trained shots, such swift, deadly gunmanship as +this was utterly beyond their imaginations. Gully had made no pretence +at aiming. With a snapping action of his wrist he had seemed to +literally fling the shots at the retreating dogs. It was the practised +whirl and flip of the finished gun-man. + +No less astounding was the uncanny legerdemain displayed in drawing from +and replacing the weapon in its place of concealment. The Indians, +attracted from the store by the sounds of shooting, began gabbling and +gesticulating affrightedly, but when MacDavid spoke to them sharply in +Cree they retreated inside again. + +Some distance away, glaring at the dead dogs, the justice sat in his +saddle, and from beneath his huge moustache he spat a volley of most +un-magisterial oaths, delivered in a snarling, nasal tone foreign to the +ears of his listeners. A minute or so he remained thus, then his baleful +eyes met the steady, meaning stare of the motionless quartette and his +face changed to a blank, irresolute expression. He made a motion of +urging his horse forward, then, checking it abruptly, he wheeled about, +loping away in his original direction. + +The trader was the first one to find his voice. "Well, my God!" he +ejaculated. "Did you ever see th' like o' that?" + +His companions remained curiously silent. "Gully!" he continued, with +vibrating voice, "whoever'd a-thought that that drawlin' English dude +could shoot like that? . . . Fred Storey should have been here. . . ." +Still getting no response to his remarks he glanced up wonderingly. The +three policemen were staring strangely at each other, and something in +their expression startled him. + +"Eh! Why! What's up?" he queried sharply. + +Then Slavin spoke grimly. "Let's go luk at thim dogs," was all he +vouchsafed. + +They stepped forward and inspected the carcasses critically. "Fifty +yards away, if he was a foot!" said Redmond, "and he dropped them in one! +two! three! . . ." + +"Slap through the head, too!" muttered Yorke. "Burke!"--he added +suddenly. Slavin met his eye with a steady, meaning stare; then, at +something he read in his subordinate's face, the sergeant's deep-set orbs +dilated strangely and he swung on his heel. + +"Aye!" he ejaculated with an oath "I was forghettin' thim--come bhoys! +let's go luk for thim. Shpread out, or we may miss the place." + +"Empty shells," explained Yorke to the others, "automatic ejection--you +remember, Reddy! We may find them." + +Keeping a short distance apart, they sauntered forward, trying to recall +the spot Gully had shot from. For awhile, with bent heads, they circled +slowly about each other, carefully scrutinizing the short turf. +Presently the trader uttered a low exclamation. "Here's th' place!" he +said, pointing downwards. The others joined him and they all gazed at +the cluster of deeply-indented hoof-marks, indicating where the horse had +propped and whirled about. + +"Aha!" said Redmond, suddenly. + +"Got ut?" queried Slavin. + +For answer George dropped a small discharged shell into the other's +outstretched palm. The sergeant made swift examination. A shocking +blasphemy escaped him, and for an instant he jerked back his arm as if to +fling the article away, then, recovering himself with an effort, he +handed it to Yorke, who peered in turn. + +The latter made a wry face. "Hell!" he ejaculated disgustedly, "it's a +'Savage' this--thirty-two at that!" He lowered his voice. "The other +was a thirty-eight Luger--what?" + +"Time an' agin," Slavin was declaiming in impotent rage and with upraised +fist,--"Time an' ag'in--have we shtruck a lead on this blasted case--on'y +tu find ut peter out agin. . . . Oh! how long, O Lord? how long? . . ." + +MacDavid stopped in turn. "Here's th' other two, Sarjint," he said. +Slavin dropped the shells into his pocket and for a space he remained in +deep thought. Then he turned to the trader. + +"Morley," he said quietly, "yu're not a talker, I know, +but--anyways! . . . I ask ye now . . . ye'll oblige me by shpakin' av +this tu no man--yet awhiles. . . . I have me raysons--onnershtand?" + +The eyes of the two men met, and question and answer were silently +exchanged in that one significant look. + +MacDavid nodded brief acquiescence to the others request. "Aye!" he +replied reflectively, "I think I do--now. . . ." + +The sergeant turned to his men. "Come on, bhoy!" he said. "Let's beat +ut home. I'm gettin' hungry." + +They bid the trader adieu, and trudged away in the direction of the +detachment. They had covered some quarter of a mile in silence when +Slavin, who was in the lead, suddenly halted and whirled on his +subordinates with a mirthless laugh. + +"Windy Moran, begod!" he burst out, "mind fwhat he said that day 'bout +Gully an' that dep'ty sheriff bizness? . . . not so----'Windy' afther +all, I'm thinkin', eh?" + +For some few seconds they stared at him, aghast. They had forgotten +Moran. + +"Say, Burke, though?" ejaculated Yorke incredulously. "Good God! somehow +the thing seems impossible . . . not the 'sheriff' business so much . . . +the other--Gully!--a J.P.--a man of his class and standing! . . . Why! +whatever motive--" + +"He may have two guns," broke in Redmond. + +"Eyah," agreed Slavin, grimly, "he may. . . . A Luger's a mighty +diff'runt kind av a gun tu other authomatics . . . an' th' man that shot +Larry Blake ain't likely tu be fule enough tu risk packin' ut around--for +a chance tu thrip um up some day." + +For awhile the trio cogitated in silence; each man striving desperately +to arrive at some logical solution to the extraordinary problem that now +faced them. + +"Bhoys!" said Slavin presently, "there's no doubt there is . . . +somethin' damnably wrong 'bout all this. But, all th' same, fact +remains, ye cannot shtart in makin' th' Force a laughin' stock by +charrgin' a man av Gully's position wid murdher--widout mighty shtrong +evidence tu back ut. An' sizin' things up--fwhat have we got, afther +all, . . . right now . . . tu shwear out a warrant on? . . . Nothin', +really, 'cept that he's shown us he's a bad man wid a gun! A damned bad +break that was, tho', an' I'll bet he's sorry for that same, tu. Mind +how he kept on thravellin', widout comin' back tu shpake wid us?" + +He shook his head slowly, in sinister fashion, and stared at their +troubled faces in turn. "See here; luk," he resumed solemnly, with +lowered voice, "honest tu God, in me own mind I du believe he is th' man +that done ut." He paused--"but provin' ut's a diff'runt matther. We +must foller this up an' get some shtronger evidence yet--behfure we make +th' break." + +Suddenly he uttered a hollow chuckle. "Kilbride!" he ejaculated. "Mind +his josh that day--'bout it might be me, or Gully?--an how Gully laughed, +tu, wid th' hand of um like this?" + +Napoleonic fashion he thrust his huge fist between the buttons of his +stable-jacket. + +"Yes, by gad!" said Yorke reflectively. "I sure do, now. And I'll bet +he had his right hand on his gun, too! Force of habit, I guess, if he's +an ex-deputy-sheriff. From what little he's dropped he's sure knocked +around some, I know. Hard to say where, and what the beggar hasn't been +in his time. This accounts for him being so blooming close about the +Western States. It's always struck me as being queer, that, because, +say, look at the slick way he rides and ropes! He's never picked that up +in five years over on this Side--and that's all he claims he's been in +Canada." + +"Besides" chimed in Redmond, eagerly, "that yarn of his about that hobo +swiping his dough, Sergeant! 'Frame-up,' p'raps, . . . gave it to him +and told him to beat it? . . ." + +"Aw, rot!" said Yorke, disgustedly. He sniffed, with his peculiar +mannerism, "that's dime-novel stuff, Red. D'ye think he'd be fool enough +to risk that, with the chances of the fellow being picked up any minute +and squealing on him?" He was silent a moment. "Rum thing, though," he +murmured, "the way that hobo did beat us to it." + +"'Some lokil man,' sez Kilbride," remarked Slavin musingly. "Just th' +last one ye'd think av suspectin'. An' Gully, begod, sittin' right +there! . . . talk 'bout nerve! . . ." + +"But, good heavens!" burst out Yorke. "Whoever would have suspected +him?" He laughed a trifle bitterly. "It's all very well for us to turn +round now and say 'what fools we've been,' and all that. If we'd have +been the smart, 'never-make-a-mistake' Alecks, like we're depicted in +books, why, of course we'd have 'deducted' this right-away, I suppose? +Oh, Ichabod! Ichabod! An Englishman, too, by gad! I'll forswear my +nationality." + +"Whatever could he have on Larry, though?" was Redmond's bewildered +query. "Say, that sure was a hell of a trick of his--using Windy's +horse--while the two of them were scrapping--trying to frame it up on +him!" + +"Eyah," soliliquised the sergeant sagely. "'Twill all come out in th' +wash. Whin cliver, edjucated knockabouts like Gully du go bad; begob, +they make th' very wurrst kind av criminals. They kin pass things off +wid th' high hand an' kape their nerve betther'n th' roughnecks--ivry +toime. + +"Think av that terribul murdherer, Deeming--an' thim tu +docthors--Pritchard an' Palmer, colludge men, all av thim. An' not on'y +men, but wimmin, tu. 'Member Mrs. Maybrick? All movin' in th' hoighth +av society!" + +He was silent a moment, then his face fell. "I must take a run inta th' +Post an' see th' O.C. 'bout this," he resumed. "Tis an exthornary case. +There's just a possibility we may be all wrong--jumphin' at conclusions +tu much. Th' ould man! . . . I think I can see th' face av um. He'll +shling his pen across th' Ord'ly-room. 'Damn th' man! Damn th' man!' +he'll cry. 'Go you now an' apprehend um on suspicion thin! Fwhy shud I +kape a dog an' du me own barkin'?' An' thin he'll think betther av ut an' +chunt 'Poppycock, all poppycock! . . . As you were, Sarjint'--an' thin +he'll call in Kilbride. Eh! fwhat yez laughin' at, yeh fules?" he +queried irritably. + +In spite of the gravity of the situation, the expression on their +superior's cadaverous face just then--its droll mixture of apprehension +and perplexity was more than Yorke and Redmond could stand. Awhile they +rocked up against each other--a trifle hysterically; it was the reaction +to nerves worked up to a pitch of intense excitement. + +"Yez gigglin' idjuts!" growled Slavin. "Come on, let's get home! No use +us shtandin here longer--gassin' like a bunch av ould washer-wimmin full +av gin an' throuble." + +In silence they trudged on to the detachment. "'Ome, sweet 'ome! be it +never so 'umble!" quoth Yorke, as they reached their destination, "Hullo! +who's this coming along?" Shading his eyes with his hand he gazed down +the trail. "Looks like Doctor Cox and Lanky." + +The trio stared at the approaching buckboard which contained two +occupants. "Sure is," said Redmond, "out to some case west of here, I +suppose." + +They hailed the physician cheerily, as presently he drew up to the +detachment. "Fwhere away, Docthor?" queried Slavin. "Will ye not shtop +an' take dinner wid us, yu' an' Lanky? 'Tis rarely we see yez in these +parts now." + +"Eh, sorry!" remarked that gentleman, climbing out of the rig and +stretching his cramped limbs, "got to get on to Horton's, though. One of +their children's sick. Thanks, all the same, Sergeant." Glancing round +at his teamster he continued in lowered tones, "There's a little matter +I'd like to speak to you fellows about." + +"Sure!" agreed Slavin, quickly. "Come inside thin, Docthor." + +The party entered the detachment and, seating themselves, gazed +enquiringly at their visitor. For a space he surveyed them reflectively, +a perturbed expression upon his usually genial countenance. His first +words startled them. + +"It's about your J.P., Mr. Gully," he began. "This incident, mind, is +closed absolutely--as far as he and I are concerned; but, under the +circumstances, which to say the least struck me as being mighty peculiar, +I--well! . . . I don't think it's any breach of medical etiquette on my +part telling you about it. + +"For some time past now I've been treating Gully for insomnia. Man first +came to me seemingly on the verge of a nervous breakdown through it. + +"I prescribed him some pretty strong opiates--strong as I dare--and for a +time he seemed to get relief. But a couple of days ago he came around +and--my God! . . . Say! if I hadn't known him for a man who drinks very +little I'd have sworn he was in the D.T.'s." + +The doctor's rotund figure stiffened slightly in his seat, and his genial +face hardened to a degree that was in itself a revelation to his +audience. Without any semblance of bravado he continued quietly, "I hope +I possess as much physical pluck as most men--I guess you fellows aren't +aware of it, but many years back I too wore the Queen's uniform--Surgeon +in the Navy. I served in that Alexandria affair, under Charlie Beresford. + +"Well, as I was saying, . . . Gully came into my surgery that day, +raving like a madman. He's a big, powerful devil, as you know. I'll +confess I was a bit dubious about him--watched him pretty close for a few +minutes, for he acted as if he might start running amok. 'I can't +sleep!' he kept yelling at me, 'I can't sleep, I tell you! . . . That +dope you're giving me's no good. . . . Christ Almighty! give me a shot +of cocaine, Cox, or morphine, and get me a supply of the stuff and a +needle, will you? I'll pay you any amount!' + +"Naturally, I refused, I'm not the man to go laying myself open to +anything like that. Well! Good God! The next minute the man came for +me like a lunatic--clutching out at me with those great hands of his and +with the most murderous expression on his face you can imagine. I backed +away to the medicine cabinet and caught hold of a pestle and told him I'd +brain him with it if he touched me. I threatened I'd lay an information +against him for assault, and that seemed to quiet him down. He began to +expostulate then, and eventually broke down and apologised to me--in the +most abject fashion. Begged me to overlook his loss of control, and all +that. Of course I let up on him then. A local scandal between two men +in our position wouldn't do at all. I gave him a d----d good calling +down, though, and finally advised him to go away somewhere for a complete +rest and change. But he wouldn't agree to that--seemed worried over his +ranch. Said he'd worked up a pretty good outfit and couldn't think of +leaving his stock in somebody else's hands at this time of the +year--couldn't afford it in fact. Anyway--that's his look-out. But, as +a matter of fact, if that man doesn't take my advice, why . . . he's +going to collapse. I know the symptoms only too well. That's the curse +of men living alone on these homesteads--brooding, and worrying their +heads off. It seems to get them all eventually in--" + +Breaking off abruptly he glanced at his watch. "Getting late!" he +ejaculated, jumping up, "I must be getting on to that case." + +"Docthor!" said Slavin, reflectively, "'tis a shtrange story ye've been +tellin' us. Ye'll be comin' back this way, I suppose--lather in th' day?" + +The physician nodded. + +"I'd like fur ye tu dhrop in agin, thin," continued the sergeant slowly, +"if ye have toime? There's a little matther I wud like tu dishcuss wid +yu'--'tis 'bout that same man." + +Doctor Cox glanced sharply at the speaker's earnest, sombre face. A +certain sinister earnestness underlay the simple words, and it startled +him. + +"Very good, Sergeant!" he agreed, "I'll call in on my way back. Well! +good-by, all of you, for the time being!" + +They followed him outside and watched the rig depart on its journey +westward. It was Redmond who broke the long silence. + +"Well, sacred Billy! What do you know about that?" he ejaculated tensely. + +And the trio turned and looked upon each other strangely, their faces +registering mutual wonderment and conviction. + +"Sleep?" murmured Yorke, "No, by gum! . . . no more could Macbeth, with +King Duncan and Banquo on his chest o' nights! . . . Well, that settles +it!" + +But Slavin made a gesture of dissent. "As you were, bhoys!" was his +sober mandate. "Sleeplishness's no actual proof . . . but it's a +pointer. Th' iron's getthin' warrm--eyah! d----d warrm! . . . but we +cannot shtrike yet." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + But a truce to this strain; for my soul it is sad, + To think that a heart in humanity clad + Should make, like the brutes, such a desolate end, + And depart from the light without leaving a friend. + Bear soft his bones over the stones! + Though a pauper, he's one whom his Maker yet owns! + "THE PAUPER'S DRIVE." + + +They ate dinner more or less in silence. Slavin had relapsed into one of +his fits of morose taciturnity. At the conclusion of the meal, Yorke and +Redmond drew a bench outside, and for awhile sat in the sun, smoking. + +"He's got 'Charley-on-his-back' properly to-day," remarked the +sophisticated Yorke, with a sidelong jerk of his head, "old beggar's best +left alone, begad! when he' get's those fits on him." He sniffed the +fresh air and gazed longingly out over the sunlit, peaceful landscape, +flooded with a warm, sleepy, golden haze of summer. "Lord! but it's a +peach of a day" he continued, "say, gossip mine, did you think to get +that fishing-tackle at Martin's this morning?" + +George nodded affirmatively. Yorke rose and stepped indoors. "Say, +Burke," he said persuasively, "there's not much doing this +afternoon--how's chances for me and Reddy going down to the Bend for a +bit? The water looks pretty good just now. You'll want to have a lone +chin with the Doctor, anyway, no use us sticking around." + +The sergeant, engrossed in a crime-report, acceded gruffly to the +request. "Run thim harses in first, tho'!" he flung after his +subordinate, "an' du not yu' men get tu far away down-shtream, in case I +might want yez." + +"That's 'Jake,'" was Redmond's comment, a moment later, "no use trying +fly-fishing to-day, though, Yorkey--too bright. We'd better fish deep. +Here, you get the rods all fixed up, and catch some grasshoppers, and +I'll chase out in the pasture and run the horses in." + +Some half an hour later found them trudging down the long slope below the +detachment that led to the nearest point of the Bow River. Here the +river described a sharp bend southward for some distance, ere resuming +its easterly course. Arriving thither, they fished for awhile in +blissful content; their minds for the time-being devoid of aught save the +sport of Old Izaak. Picking likely spots for deep casts, they meandered +slowly down-stream, keeping about twenty yards apart. At intervals, +their piscatorial efforts were rewarded with success. Four fine +"two-pounders" of the "Cut-Throat" species had fallen to Yorke's +rod--three to Redmond's. Then, for a time the fish ceased to bite. + +"Here!" said Yorke suddenly. "I'm getting fed up with this! I can't get +a touch. There's a big hole farther down, just up above Gully's place. +Let's try it! He and I pulled some good 'uns out of there, last year." + +Eventually they reached their objective. At this point the force of the +current had gradually, with the years, scooped out a large, semicircular +portion of the shelving bank. Also, a spit of gravel-bar, jutting far +out into the water, had stranded a small boom of logs and drift-wood; the +whole constituting a veritable breakwater that only a charge of dynamite +could have shifted. In the shelter of this and the hollowed-out bank, a +huge, slow eddy of water had formed, apparently of great depth. + +As Yorke had advertised it--it did look like a likely kind of a hole for +big trout. "You wouldn't think it," said he now, "but there's twenty +feet of water in that pot hole." He put down his rod and slowly began to +fill his pipe. "You can have first shot at it, Red," he remarked, "I'll +be the unselfish big brother. You ought to land a good 'un out of there. +Aha! what'd I tell you?" + +Redmond's gut "leader" had barely sunk below the surface when he felt the +thrilling, jarring strike of an unmistakably heavy fish. The tried, +splendid "green-heart" rod he was using described a pulsating arc under +the strain. He turned to Yorke gleefully. "By gum! old thing, I've sure +got one this time," he said, "bet you he's ten pound if he's an ounce. +Hope the line'll hold!" + +Simultaneously they uttered an excited exclamation, as a huge, silvery +body darted to the surface, threshed the water for the fraction of a +second, and then dived. + +"Look out!" cried Yorke. "Give him line, Red, give him line! Play him +careful now, or you'll lose him!" + +The reel screeched, as Redmond let the fish run. Then--without +warning--the line slacked and the rod straightened. George, giving vent +to a dismayed oath, reeled in until the line tautened again, and the +point of the rod dipped. + +"What's up?" queried Yorke, "he's still on, isn't he?" + +"Yes," growled Redmond miserably, "feels as if I'm snagged though. He's +there right enough--I can feel him jumping. Damnation! That's the worst +of stringing three hooks on your leader. One of 'em's snagged on +something below, I guess. Here! hold the rod a minute, Yorkey!" + +The latter complied. George unbuttoned and threw off his stable-jacket +and began taking off his boots. Yorke contemplated his comrade's actions +in speechless amazement. "Why, what the devil?--" he began-- + +"I'm not going to lose that fish," mumbled Redmond sulkily, as he threw +off his clothes, "I'll get him by gum! if I have to dive to the depths of +Hell." + +"Say, now! don't be a fool!" cried Yorke, "that water's like ice, man! +You'll get cramped, and then the two of us'll drown. We-ll, of all the +idiots!--" + +George, by this time stripped to the buff, crept gingerly to the edge of +the shelving bank. In his right hand he grasped--opened--a small +pen-knife. "Aw, quit it!" he retorted rudely, "I'll only be under a +minute--hold the line taut--straight up and down, Yorkey, so's I can see +where to dive." + +He drew a deep breath, and then, with the poise of a practised swimmer, +dived--cutting the water with barely a splash. For the space of a +half-minute Yorke stared apprehensively at the swirling eddy, beneath +which the other had vanished. The line still remained taut. Then he +gave a gasp of relief, as Redmond's head re-appeared, and that young +gentleman swam to the side. Extending a hand, the senior constable +lugged his comrade to terra firma. + +"That's good!" he ejaculated fervently. "D----n the fish, anyway! I +guess you couldn't make--" He broke off abruptly, and remained staring +at the dripping George with startled eyes. The latter's face registered +unutterable horror, and he shook as with the ague. Speech seemed beyond +him. He could only mouth and point back to the gloomy depths whence he +had just emerged. + +"Here!" cried Yorke, with an oath, "whatever is the matter, Reddy? Man! +you look as if you'd seen a ghost!" + +Then his own face blanched, as the shivering George bubbled incoherently, +"B-b-body! b-b-body! My God, Yorkey! th-there's a s-s-stiff d-down +th-there! Ugh! I d-d-dived right onto it!" + +For a brief space they remained staring at each other; then, a strange +light of understanding broke over Yorke's face, and he made a snatch at +Redmond's clothes. "Come!" he jerked out briskly. "Get 'em on quick, +Red, else you'll catch your death of cold--never mind about drying +yourself--you can change when you get back." + +In shivering silence his comrade commenced to struggle into his +underclothes and "fatigue-slacks." Yorke snapped the line and reeled in +the slack. "Stiff!" he kept ejaculating "stiff! Yes, by gad! and I can +make a pretty good guess who that stiff is! . . . Burke'll have all the +evidence he wants--now. You beat it, Reddy, as soon as you're fit and +get him. A run'll warm you up. The grappling-irons are back of the +stable. And say! tell him to bring a good long rope. Lord, I hope +Doctor Cox hasn't left yet. I'll stay here, Reddy. Hurry up!" + + +An hour or so later, a morbidly expectant group gathered on the +river-bank. Redmond, luckily, had reached the detachment just prior to +the coroner's departure, and that gentleman now comprised one of a party. +Slavin had hitched his team to a cotton-wood clump nearby, and was now +busily rigging the double set of three-pronged grappling-irons. When all +was ready, he motioned to his companions to stand back, and then, with a +preliminary whirl or two, flung the irons into the pool, some distance +ahead of the spot indicated by Redmond. + +Slowly and ponderously he began the dragging recover, with the muscular +skill of a man long inured to the gruesome business. His first effort +was unsuccessful--weeds and refuse were all he salvaged. He tried again, +with the same result. Cast after cast proved futile. After the last +failure he turned and glowered morosely upon Redmond. + +"'Tis either dhrunk or dhramin' ye must be, bhoy! There's nothin' there. +I've a good mind," he added slowly "a d----d good mind tu shove ye undher +arrest for makin' a friv'lus report tu yeh superior!" + +Yorke now came to his comrade's rescue. "By gum, Burke," he flashed out +"if you'd seen his mug when he came up out of that hole you wouldn't have +thought there was anything frivolous about it, I can tell you!" + +Poor George voiced a vehement protest, in self defense. "Good God, +Sergeant!" he expostulated, "d'you think I'd come to you with a yarn like +that? I tell you it is there. Have another try. Sling farther over to +the right here!" + +Grumblingly, the latter complied, and began the slow recover. Suddenly, +the rope checked. Slavin strained a moment, then he turned around to the +expectant group. "Got ut'" he announced grimly. "I can tell by th' feel +av ut. Tail on tu th' rope there, all av yez! Now! Yeo! Heave ho!" + +Like a tug of war team they all bowed their backs and strained with all +their might; but their efforts proved futile. "Vast heavin!" said +Slavin, breathing heavily. "'Tis shtuck somehow--I will have tu get th' +team an' double-trees. Get a log off'n that breakwater, bhoys, so's th' +rope will not cut inta th' edge av th' bank." + +He crossed over to the horses. "Now!" said he, some minutes later, as he +backed up the team and made all fast to the double-trees. "Yu', Reddy, +an' Lanky, guide th' rope over th' log. Yu', Yorkey, get th' feel av ut, +an' give me th' wurrd. I du not want to break ut." + +Yorke leant over the edge of the bank, loosely feeling the rope. "All +right!" he announced. + +Slavin, edging his team cautiously forward, and taking the strain to +avoid a violent jerk, clucked to them. With a scramble, and a steady +heave of their powerful hind-quarters, they started. + +With bated breath the watchers gazed at the rope--creeping foot by foot +out of the discoloured water. + +"Keep a-going!" Yorke shouted to Slavin. "It's coming up, all right!" + +It came. Arising slowly and sullenly out of the depths they beheld a +horrible, dripping, shapeless something that eventually resolved itself +into a human body--clothed in torn rags and matted with river-refuse. + +Then, to the salvagers, came the most astounding and sinister revelation +of all. Startled oaths burst from them as they beheld now what had +retarded their first pull. Bound tightly to the body with rusted wire +was a huge, hand-squared block of stone. The sergeant's last and +successful cast had resulted in two prongs of the grappling-irons +catching in the enveloping wire. + +Slowly and cautiously the whole hideous bulk was finally drawn up the +shelving bank and over the log and onto dry ground. Yorke shouted, and +Slavin, checking the horses, detached the rope from the double-trees. +Handing the lines over to Lanky Jones he joined the others, who were +critically examining their gruesome catch. To their surprise, although +the features were unrecognisable, the corpse was not so decomposed as +they had first imagined, the ice-cold water having preserved it to a +certain extent. Still firmly hooked to the rags of clothing--a +ludicrously grim joke--was the huge jumping, gasping trout which Redmond +had struck and lost. + +Suddenly Yorke uttered a low exclamation. "Burke! Burke!" he said +tensely, "there you are! . . . Look at the right hand'" + +The eyes of all were centered on the grimy, stiffened, clawlike fist. +They saw that two of the fingers were missing. An exultant oath burst +from Slavin. "By G----!" he said, with grim conviction, "it's him all +right!--that pore hobo shtiff--Dick Drinkwater. Eyah! fwhat's in a name? +Fwhat's in a name?" He pointed to the grinning jaws. "Luk at th' gold +teeth av um, tu!" he added. + +The coroner was examining the almost fleshless skull. He gave a cry of +anger and dismay. "Good God!" he gasped. "Look here, all of you! . . . +This man's been shot through the head, too!" He indicated the small, +circular orifice in the occiput, and its egress below the left eye. + +"Only an exceedingly powerful, high-pressure weapon could have done +that," he continued significantly, "both holes are alike--bullet hasn't +'mushroomed' at all." + +"Eyah!" Slavin agreed wearily. "We know fwhat kind av a gun did ut. And +luk here!" he added savagely, pointing to the bare feet, "here's another +of Mr. Man's little jokes--no boots. If they'd have been lift on they'd +have shtuck tighter'n glue--in that water. Reddy was 'bout right, +Yorkey! Gully, d----n him! did frame us that day. Must have used thim +himsilf tu make thim thracks wid--early in th' mornin'--behfure he met up +wid us on th' thrail. Oh, blarney my sowl! Yes! Had us chasin' for a +whole silly week, all for--" + +He broke off abruptly, choking with rage. For awhile, in silence, the +party gazed at the pitiful, hideous monstrosity that had once been a man. +Then the ever-practical Redmond proceeded, with the aid of a large +pebble, to burst, strand by strand, the wire which bound the stone to the +body. + +"That stone, too!" said the doctor darkly. "Sergeant, in view of what +you've been telling me, there seems something very, very terrible about +all this. I suppose there's absolutely no doubt in your mind now, who--?" + +The Irishman jerked out a great oath. "Doubt!" echoed he grimly, "doubt! +So little doubt, Docthor," added he hoarsely, "that we go get 'um this +very night." + +"Alas, poor Yorick!" said Yorke sadly. "Say, Burke!" he continued in an +awe-struck voice "this is like a leaf out of O'Brien's book, with a +vengeance. You remember him, that cold-blooded devil who Pennycuik +nailed up in the Yukon--used to shoot 'em and shove their bodies under +the ice?" + +Slavin nodded gloomily. "At Tagish, ye mane? Yeah! I 'member ut. +Penny sure did some good wurrk on that case." + +Redmond had by this time completed his gruesome task. "There's lots of +these blocks lying around Gully's," he remarked, "I've seen 'em. Place's +got a stone foundation. Look at the notches he's chipped in this one--to +keep the wire from slipping!" + +"Eyah!" said Slavin, with grimly-unconscious humour, "Exhibit B. We must +hang on to ut, heavy as it us--an' th' wire, tu! Well, people, we'd +betther shove this pore shtiff on the buckboard, an' beat ut." He turned +to the doctor's laconic factotum. "Come on, Lanky!" he said briskly. +"Let's go hitch up." + +Presently, when all was ready, Slavin took the lines and the coroner +climbed up beside him. The rest of the party followed on foot. A +sombre, strange little procession it looked, as it moved slowly westward +into the dusky blaze of a blood-red sunset. In the hearts of the +policemen grim resolve was not unmixed with certain well-founded +forebodings, as they fully realized what a sinister, dangerous mission +lay ahead of them that night. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + 'Twas then--like tiger close beset + At every pass with toil and net, + 'Counter'd, where'er he turns his glare, + By clashing arms and torches' flare, + Who meditates, with furious bound, + To burst on hunter, horse, and hound,-- + 'Twas then that Bertram's soul arose, + Prompting to rush upon his foes. + SCOTT + + +The old detachment clock struck nine wheezy notes. Yorke and Redmond, +seated at a table busily engaged in cleaning their service revolvers, +glanced up at each other sombrely. + +"Getting near time," muttered the former, "the moon should be up soon +now. Lanky," he continued, addressing that individual who was sitting +nearby, "what are you and the Doctor going to do? Going back to Cow Run +tonight, or what?" + +"Don't think it," replied the teamster laconically. He glanced towards +the open door and assumed a listening attitude. "Th' Sarjint an' him's +out there now--chewin' th' rag 'bout it--hark to 'em!" + +Ceasing their cleaning operations for a space, the two constables +listened intently to the raised voices without. "No! no! no!" came +Slavin's soft brogue, in tones of vehement protest to something the +coroner had said, "I tell yu' 'tis not right, Docthor, that yu' shud run +such risk! Wid us 'tis diff'runt--takin' th' chances av life an' +death--just ord'nary course av juty. . . ." + +"Oh, tut! tut! nonsense, Sergeant," was the physician's brisk response. +"You forget. I've taken those same chances before, too, and, by Jove! I +can take 'em again! All things considered," he added significantly, +"seems to me--er--perhaps just as well I should be on hand." + +Yorke and Redmond exchanged rueful grins. "The old sport!" quoth the +latter admiringly. "Damme, but I must say the Doc's game!" + +"It's the old 'ex-service spirit'," said Yorke quietly, "rum thing! +Always seems to crop out, somehow, when there's real trouble on hand." + +Nonchalantly puffing a huge cigar, the object of their remarks presently +strolled back into the room, followed by the sergeant. "Behould th' +'last coort av appeal,' Docthor," began Slavin majestically. With a +whimsical grin he indicated his subordinates. "Bhoys," he explained, +"contrairy tu my wishes, th' Docthor insists on comin' wid us this night. +Now fwhat yez know 'bout that?" + +"Tried to shake me!" supplemented that gentleman tersely, waving his +cigar at the last speaker. "What's this court's ruling?" + +A stern smile flitted over Yorke's high-bred features. "Appeal +sustained," he announced decisively, "eh, Reddy?" + +For answer, his comrade arose and silently wrung the doctor's hand; then, +without show of emotion, he resumed his seat and likewise his cleaning +operations. Yorke, as silently, duplicated his comrade's actions. The +ex-Naval surgeon said nothing; but his eyes glistened strangely as he +dropped into an easy chair and proceeded to envelope himself in a cloud +of smoke, + +Suddenly the nasal voice of the teamster, Lanky Jones, made itself heard. +"How 'bout me?" he drawled, "ain't I in on this, too? I kin look after +th' hawsses, anyways, fur yeh!" + +"Arrah thin! hark tu um?" said Slavin, in mock despair. "Docthor, 'tis a +bad example ye're setting All right, thin, Lanky, ye shall come, an' ye +wish ut. An' as man tu man--I thank ye! We will all go a 'moonlightin' +tugither. Eyah!" he resumed reminiscently, "many's th' toime I mind me +ould father--God rist him!--tellin' th' tales av thim days, whin times +was harrd in Oireland, an' rints wint up an' th' pore was dhriven +well-nigh desprit. How him an' his blood-cousin, Tim Moriarty, lay wan +night for an' ould rapparee av a landlord, who'd evicted pore Tim out av +house an' home. Tim had an' ould blundherbuss, all loaded up wid bits av +nales an' screws an' such-like, wid a terribul big charrge av powther +behint ut. Four solid hours did they wait for um--forninst a hedge on +th' road he had tu come home by, from Ballymeen Fair. + +"By an' by they hears um a-comin . . . a-hollerin' an' laughin' tu +umsilf, an' roarin' an' singin' 'Th' Jug av Potheen.' Full av ut, tu, by +token av th' voice av um. Tim makes all ready wid th' blundherbuss. All +av a suddint tho', th' tchune shtops, an' tho' they waits for um for +quite a toime, he niver shows up. By an' by they gets fed up wid lyin' +belly-down in th' soakin' rain. 'H-mm! mighty quare!' sez me father, 'I +wonder fwhat's happened tu th' pore ould ginthleman?' 'Let us go luk for +um?' sez Tim, wid blood in his oi, ''tis may be he's on'y shtoppin' tu +take another dhrink out av th' jug.' + +"So, up th' road they goes a piece, till they comes tu a bog at th' side +av ut. An' there they finds um--head-first shtuck in th' bog--just th' +tu feet av um shtickin' out an' which boots Tim sez he can swear tu. +'Begorrah!' sez me father, 'that accounts for th' tchune shtoppin' so +suddint! Let us luk for th' jug?' Well, they hunts around for th' jug +awhile, but all they finds is his ould caubeen. So they shtuck that on +wan of his feet, an' Tim, he pins th' warrant av evictmint tu ut, +currsin' somethin' fierce th' whiles bekase he was done out av getthin' a +shot at the 'ould rapparee wid th' blundherbuss." + +Slavin shook his head slowly at the conclusion of the story. "Eyah!" he +said wistfully, "many's th' toime have I heard me father tell that same +tale. They must have been shtirrin' times, thim!" In characteristic +fashion his mood suddenly changed. His face hardened, as with upraised +hand he silenced the burst of laughter he had provoked from his hearers. +"Ginthlemen!" he resumed quietly, "we're none av us cowards here, but--no +need tu remind yu'--fwhat sort av a man we are goin' up against this +night." + +Unconsciously he drew himself up, with an air of simple, rugged dignity +that well became his grim visage and powerful frame. In that hour of +impending danger the brave, true, kindly heart of the man stood +revealed--a personality which endeared him to Yorke and Redmond beyond +any ties of friendship they had known. + +Slowly he repeated, "we are none av us cowards here, but--remimber Larry +Blake, an' that pore hobo shtiff back in th' shed there. An' remimber +thim dogs this mornin'. We du not want tu undherrate um. We du not want +tu cop ut like did Wilde, whin he wint tu arrest Charcoal; or Colebrook, +whin he tackled Almighty Voice. Maybe he'll just come a-yawnin' tu th' +dhure, wid th' dhrawlin' English spache av um, sayin' 'Well, bhoys, an' +fwhat's doin'?' An' yet again--may be he's all nerves afther th' bad +break he made in front av us this mornin'--expectin' us--eyah!--waithin', +watchin' belike, wid his gun in his fisht. Luk at th' way he acted +afther his gun play--leery as hell. . . ." + +"Yes!" said Yorke thoughtfully, "egad! there was something darned queer +in the way he acted, all right. Guess we'd better take carbines along, +eh, Burke? . . . in case we get let in for a man hunt. For all we know, +he may have beat it already. Another thing--he may start in bucking us +about not having a warrant--just to gain time?" + +Slavin met the other's suggestion with a grim nod of acquiescence. +"Shure! we'll take thim," he said, "but"--his jaw set ruthlessly--"if I +wanst get my grub-hooks on um . . . why! 'tis all up!--carbines, or no +carbines--warrant or no warrant. Section thirty av th' Code covers th' +warrant bizness--in a case like this, anyways. Come on, thin, bhoys, +saddle up! An' Lanky!--yu give me a hand wid th' team! we must be +getthin'!" + +Presently all was in readiness, and the small, well-armed party left the +detachment under the light of a brilliant three-quarter moon. Slavin led +in the police buckboard, with the doctor seated beside him, and Lanky +Jones crouched behind them. Yorke and Redmond rode in the rear, with +their carbines slung at the saddle-horn. It was a hazardous mission they +were bound on, as they all fully realized now, knowing the terribly +ruthless character of the man they sought to apprehend. + +Descending the grade which led to the bend of the river they swung due +east at a smart pace, following the winding Lower Trail. This last road +ran past Gully's ranch, which lay some three miles distant. As they +neared their objective the sergeant slackened his team down to a walking +pace. + +Suddenly Redmond tongue-clucked to himself in absent fashion. The sound +of it roused Yorke out of the sombre reverie into which he had fallen. + +"What's up, Red?" queried he waggishly, in a low voice, "dreaming you're +taking that dive again, or what?" + +"No!" muttered George abstractly in the same key. "I was thinking what a +rum, unfathomable old beggar Slavin is. Fancy him springing that comical +old yarn at such a time as this?" + +"Ah!" murmured his comrade reflectively. "When you come to know Burke as +well as I do you'll find he's generally got some motive for these little +things--blarney and all. You laughed, didn't you? Guess we all of us +gave the giddy 'ha! ha'.' Felt quite chipper after it, too, the bunch of +us . . . well then?" + +"Sh-sh!" came the sergeant's back-flung, guarded growl, "quit your gab +there! We're gettin' nigh, bhoys--here's th' brush forninst his +place . . . must go mighty quiet an' careful now." + +Looming up dark and forbidding ahead of them they beheld the all-familiar +sight of the huge, shadowy thicket of pine and Balm o' Gilead clumps that +fringed the west end of Gully's ranch. Entering its gloomy depths, they +felt their way slowly and cautiously along the stump-dotted trail. At +intervals, from somewhere overhead, came the weird, depressing hoot of a +long-eared owl, and, seemingly close at hand, the shrill, mocking +"ki-yip-yapping" of coyotes echoed sharply in the stillness of the night. +Stray patches of moonlight began to filter upon the party once more as +they gradually neared the end of the rough-hewn avenue; the thick growth +of pine giving place to scattered cotton-wood clumps. + +Arriving at the verge of the timber the party halted. There, some two +hundred yards distant, upon a patch of open ground partially encircled by +dense, willow-scrub, lay a ghostly-shadowed cluster of ranch buildings. +The living habitation itself stood upon a slightly raised knoll, hard +upon the river-bank. To their nostrils the night air brought the strong, +not unpleasant scent of cattle, drifting up from the numerous recumbent +bovine forms which dotted the ground all around the ranch. + +Awhile the party gazed speculatively at the habitation of him--the +undoubted perpetrator of the deadly deeds--for whom they had sought so +long. The peaceful aspect of their moonlit surroundings suddenly smote +the minds of all with a strange sense of unreality, as full realization +of the sinister import of their errand came home to them. In uncanny +telepathy with their disturbed feelings sounded the owl's derisive +hooting, and the persistent mocking raillery of the coyotes. + +It was Slavin who broke the long, tense silence. "Damn that 'Dismal +Jimmy' owl!" he ejaculated testily, in a low tone--"an' thim +ki-oots! . . . beggars all seem to be givin' us th' ha! ha! as if they +knew. P'raps he has beat ut on us afther all? . . . 'Tis harrd tu +say--we cannot shpot a glim from this side--winders all face east. Now! +luk a-here, all av yez!" He turned to his companions with a grim, +determined face, his deep-set eyes glittering ominously in the light of +the moon. "Lets get things cut-an'-dhried behfure we shtart in," he +whispered. "Whin he knows th' jig's up--that's if he is in--he may act +like a man av sinse, an' agree tu come peaceable--but--" and Slavin shook +his head slowly--"if he refuses . . . fwhy? . . . 't'wud be straight +suicide tu attimpt tu rush um. There's on'y wan dhure. Hidin' in th' +dark there, wid that Luger gun av his coverin' ut, we'd shtand no show at +all. He'd put th' whole bunch av us out av business--in as many shots, +behfure a man av us got a chance tu put fut inside. Now, let's see!" he +murmured reflectively. "Fwhat is th' lay av th' shack agin? There's--" + +"The door and two of the windows face east," interpolated Yorke, +softly--"living-room and kitchen--one window to the south--that's his +bed-room." + +"Eyah! that's ut," whispered the sergeant, "now thin--Lanky--du yu' shtay +right here wid th' harses. Kape yu're head--even if ye du hear shootin'. +Du not shtir from here onless ye get ordhers from wan av us." Turning to +the others he continued in a sibilant hiss, "Yu, Reddy, shlip along th' +edge av th' brush here, an' over th' river-bank onto th' shingle. Kape +well down an' thread careful ontil ye come forninst th' back winder. +Thin pop yu're head up circumshpict an' cover ut wid yu're carbine. Use +good judgmint tho'; none av us want tu shtart in shootin' onless we're +forced tu ut. Ondher th' circumstances 'tis best we thry an' catch um +alive." + +For a moment Slavin stared after Redmond's crouching form, as his +subordinate disappeared in the gloom, "Thrust no harm comes tu th' lad," +he muttered irresolutely, "quick as a flash is th' bhoy wid his head, +eyah! but he's inclined tu be over rash at toimes." + +"Oh, he's all right," hissed Yorke reassuringly, "don't you get worrying +over him making any bad breaks, Burke. He's as fly as they make 'em." + +Presently the sergeant faced round with a dreary sigh. "Come on thin, +Docthor," he murmured heavily, "wid me an' Yorke." + +Making a wide detour they circled the ranch and wormed their way +cautiously through the dense scrub on its eastern side. Suddenly, with a +warning gesture to his companions, the sergeant halted. They had reached +the verge of the scrub and the front of the ranch-house faced +them--barely twenty yards distant. They could discern a faint light +glimmering around the lower edge of one of the windows. + +"He is in!" whispered Slavin exultantly. "Blinds down though. 'Tis a +quare custom av his. Come on thin, Yorkey, me bould second-in-command! +In a mighty few short minuts we shall know"--his jaw dropped--"fwhat we +shall know! . . . Arrah thin, Docthor!"--he silenced a violent protest +from that adventurous gentleman, who made as though to accompany +them--"if ye wud help us in best fashion--shtay right here, an' mark +fwhat comes off. If we shud happen tu get ut in th' neck . . . just yu' +beat ut back tu Lanky! Ye know fwhat tu du--thin. I'll lave me carbine +here awhile." + +He stepped clear of the brush and, revolver in hand, advanced softly upon +the low, one-story, log-built dwelling. Yorke followed a few steps in +his rear, with his carbine held in readiness at the "port-arms." + +Reaching the door, the sergeant rapped upon it sharply. There was no +response from within, but--the light vanished on the instant. Yorke +stepped warily to the side and covered the door with his weapon. A few +tense moments passed, and then Slavin rapped again. Heavy footfalls now +sounded, approaching the door from the inside, halted, and then, through +the panels came Gully's hollow, booming bass: "Who's there?" + +"Shlavin of th' Mounted Police, Gully. Opin up! we wud shpake wid ye." + +"What do you want? What's your business at this hour of the night?" + +"Fwhat do we want?"--the sergeant uttered mirthless chuckle--"fwhy 'tis +yu' we want, Gully--for murdher! Come off th' perch, man, th' jig's up! +There's a bunch av us here--we've got yu're shack covered properly--wid +carbines--north, east, south, an' west--ye can pull nothin' off. Come +now! will ye pitch up an' act reasonable? 'Tis no manner av use ye +shtartin' in tu buck th' Force. Juty's juty--ye know that." + +"Have you got a warrant, Sergeant?" + +"Eyah!" came Slavin's sinister growl. "We've bin fishin', Gully, up in +th' big pool beyant. _Well_ ye must know that pool. Fwhat we caught +there is our warrant. Opin up now, will ye? else we bust yu're dhure in!" + +"Slavin--Sergeant! You and Yorke whom I've known all this time--good +fellows"--the deep, imploring tones faltered slightly--"do not push me to +it, man! You and your men go away and leave me in peace this night. +Christ knows! I don't want to do it but--if you persist in forcing an +entrance in here without a warrant--why! I'll pull on your crowd till +there's not a man left." + +"Gully!" the sergeant's voice shook with passion at the other's threat, +"ye bloody murdherin' dog! Ye dhirty back-av-th'-head gun-artist! +Thryin' for tu come th' 'good-feller' over us av th' Mounted! There's +on'y wan answer tu that, an' ye know ut. Now, will ye opin up this +dhure, or I'll bust her down!" + +And, as if to enforce his command, Slavin set his huge shoulder against +the door and gave a heave which caused the stout wood to crack ominously. + +"Look out, Burke!" cried Yorke suddenly. His right arm shot out and +jerked the maddened Irishman violently towards him. His hasty action was +only just in time. + +Bang! bang! Two muffled shots detonated within, and white splinters flew +from a spot in the door covered a moment before by the sergeant's broad +breast. With a startled oath Slavin flung up his gun, as if to fire +back; but Yorke clutched his arm and arrested the action. + +"No, no, Burke!" he hissed warningly, "no use doing that! You bet he's +not there now. Lying 'doggo' behind the logs, most likely. You'd only +blow a hole in the door that he could pick us off through after. We're +proper marks in the moonlight here! Let's back up, and keep the front +covered." + +Slavin, balked of his prey, rumbled in his throat awhile, like some huge +bear; then, adopting Yorke's suggestion, he slowly backed up with the +latter to the sheltering brush, where they rejoined the expectant, +anxious doctor. + +"Hit, either of you?" he enquired tersely. + +Yorke replied in the negative. "Mighty close shave for Burke here, +though" he added, "lucky I heard Gully cocking that blasted Luger of +his." He uttered a suppressed chuckle, "Burke's always one to go +cautioning others, and then lose his temper and expose himself." + +For some few minutes they canvassed the situation in tense whispers, +lying prone in the brush with their carbines covering their objective. + +"Sh-sh!" hissed the doctor suddenly. "Hark!" + +With all their faculties on the stretch, they held their breaths and +listened intently. In the stillness they heard the unmistakable noise as +of a window being cautiously lifted. The sound came from the southern +end of the building. + +Then they heard Redmond's voice ring out sharply from the bank: "No use, +Gully! I've got you covered! You can't make it from there! You'd +better give in, man." + +There was an instant's silence, then--crack! came the crisp report of the +Luger. It was answered by the deep, reverberating bang! of a carbine, +and the crash of splintered glass and woodwork was followed by a boyish +laugh. + +"Told you Reddy was there with the goods!" remarked Yorke, triumphantly, +to his superior, "don't suppose he got him though--Gully's too fly--he'd +duck into shelter the instant he'd fired. I'll bet he's doing some tall +thinking just now. Beggar's between the devil and the deep +sea--properly. He'll chuck up the sponge just now, you'll see." + +"Eyah!" agreed Slavin, with an oath, "he's up against it. But Reddy down +there--I du not like th' idea av th' bhoy bein' all alone. Yorkey, yu' +shlink thru' th' brush an' down th' bank an' kape um company awhile. Th' +Docthor an' me'll kape th' front here covered." + +A few minutes later, Yorke, after first challenging Redmond cautiously, +crept up beside his comrade below the sheltering river-bank. + +"Did you get him?" he queried in a tense whisper. + +"No, I don't think so," muttered Redmond disconsolately, "but--he d----d +near got me--look!" + +He exhibited his Stetson hat. A clean bullet perforation showed in the +pinched-up top. "I could have got him--easy," he added, "when he first +opened the window. Wish I had, now--but you know what Burke said--about +getting him alive--I only loosed off after he'd thrown down on me. I was +scared for you and Burke, though! I could see you both backing up--after +he'd shot through the door." + +Bang! A dull, muffled report detonated within the building. The ominous +echoes gradually died away, and the stillness of the night settled over +all once more. + +The crouching policemen stared at each other strangely. "Hear that?" +ejaculated Redmond, with a startled oath, "By G----d! he's shot himself! +must have--it sounded muffled. . . . All over! I'll bet his brains--" + +He broke off short and, shoving the barrel of his carbine over the edge +of the bank, he commenced to clamber up. "Wait a second! . . . Good +God, Red! don't do that!" snarled Yorke warningly. "He's as cunning as +a blasted _lobo_. May be it's only a tr--" + +The entreaty died in his throat. Crack! A spurt of flame shot from the +opened window, and Redmond, with a gasping exclamation of rage and pain, +toppled backwards onto the shingle, his carbine clattering down beside +him. Fearful of relaxing his vigilance even at this crisis, the maddened +Yorke flung up his weapon and sent shot after shot crashing through the +open casement. All could hear the smashing, rending sounds of havoc his +bullets were creating within. + +"Doctor!" he shouted. "Oh, Doctor! Come on round quick!" In a hoarse +aside he spat out feverishly, "Red! Red! my old son! . . . hit bad? +Where'd you get it?" + +"Shoulder! Oh-h!" gasped poor Redmond, moaning and rolling on the +shingle in his agony, "Oh, Christ, it hurts!" + +There came a crashing in the undergrowth on their right, and presently a +crouching form came creeping rapidly towards them under cover of the +sheltering bank. In a terse aside Yorke acquainted the doctor with the +details of his comrade's mischance, keeping a wary eye meanwhile on the +window. The ex-naval surgeon wasted no time in unnecessary question or +comment, but with the grim composure of an old campaigner swiftly +proceeded to render first aid to the wounded man. + +"Right shoulder--low down!" he presently vouch-safed to the anxious +Yorke. "Trust it's missed the lung! . . . can't tell yet! . . . I must +get him away the best way I can. No! . . . don't move, Yorke! You keep +on your mark! I can pack him I think. I'll get him to the buckboard +somehow. This is going to be a long siege, I'm thinking. You'll be +getting reinforcements later. Slavin told me to send for them." + +Bang! crash! The crisp sounds of splintering woodwork on the east side +of the shack denoted the fact of their quarry apparently attempting a +second escape from the front entrance. Unaided, the doctor cleverly +executed the professional fire-fighter's trick of raising, balancing on +the back, and carrying an unconscious human body. With an overwhelming +feeling of relief, not unmixed with admiration, at the other's gameness, +Yorke watched him stagger away in the gloom, bearing poor George upon his +bowed shoulders. + +His momentary lack of vigilance proved well-nigh his own undoing, also. +Crack! spat the Luger again from the window. His hat whirled from his +head, but he kept his presence of mind. It was not the first time by +many that Yorke had been under fire. Ducking down on the instant, he +moved swiftly three paces to his right, and then, finger on trigger, he +suddenly jerked upright and sent two more shots crashing through the +aperture. + +"Mark-er!" he called out mockingly. "Signal a miss, mark-er! Ding-dong! +You'll get tired of it before we do, Gully! You'd better give up the +ghost, man!" + +His grim sarcasm failing to draw further fire from his desperate +opponent, the senior constable reloaded wearily and settled down to what +promised to be a long, danger-fraught vigil. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + He "went out," poor Gus, at the break o' day--- + Oh!--his kindly ways, and his cheery face! + But . . . the Lord gave, and hath taken away, + Hark! sounds "The Last Post," Requiescat in Pace! + "THE LAST POST" + + +Slowly the night dragged through for the two grim, haggard sentinels. +Thrice during their vigil had their desperate quarry exercised his +marksmanship upon them with his deadly Luger. Seemingly only by a +miracle did they escape each time. The sergeant had his hat perforated +in similar fashion to his companions. Yorke had a shoulder-strap torn +from his stable-jacket. Adroitly shifting their positions each time he +fired, they greeted his shots with such withering blasts of carbine fire +that they finally silenced their enemy's battery. Throughout he had +remained as mute as a trapped wolf. Only an occasional cough indicated +that so far, apparently, he was unharmed and, like them, still grimly on +the alert. + +Relief came to the two besiegers with the first streaks of dawn. Dr. +Cox, with almost superhuman efforts, had somehow managed to reach Lanky +Jones and the buckboard with the wounded Redmond. Swiftly conveying the +latter back to the detachment, the physician had immediately got in touch +with the night-operator at the station, and also MacDavid. + +And now, guided by that old pioneer, Inspector Kilbride arrived upon the +scene with an armed party from the Post. They had been rushed up by a +special train, which had been flagged by MacDavid at the nearest +objective point to Gully's ranch. + +Swiftly and warily they skirmished towards their objective. Half of the +party, under a sergeant, crept along below the sheltering river bank +where they soon joined the wearied, but still vigilant, Yorke. The rest, +under the inspector, making a wide detour of the ranch, gained the brush +on its eastern side. Among this last party were Hardy, McSporran and +McCullough. In extended order they glided through the thick scrub and, +reaching its fringe, flung themselves prone with their carbines held in +readiness. + +The inspector gradually wormed himself up beside Slavin who, in a few +tense whispers, acquainted his superior with all details of the +situation. Full well, both men realized what a perilous spot it was, for +all concerned, on the eastern front of the shack. Straining their eyes +in the gray, ghostly gloom they could just discern an open casement. +Apparently it was from this well-sheltered embrasure that Gully had +previously attempted to pick off Slavin. With the coming of daylight +their position would be absolutely untenable in the face of further fire +from the enemy. On the other hand, if they retreated further into the +scrub they would lose sight of their objective altogether. + +So much Kilbride intimated to the sergeant as they held whispered +consultation. Also, he imparted reassuring news anent Redmond. The +latter's injury, though serious, was not a mortal hurt, according to a +report from MacDavid, who had left the doctor watching his patient +closely at the detachment. + +Suddenly, a few paces to the right of where they lay, came the sound of +one of the party stealthily clearing his throat. Poor fellow! his +momentary lack of caution proved to be his death warrant. + +Crack! A spurt of flame leapt from the velvety-black square of casement. +The horrid, unforgetable cry of a man wounded unto death echoed the shot, +and the startled besiegers could hear their comrade threshing around +amongst the dead leaves in his agony. + +"Steady, men! steady now! don't expose yourselves!" yelled the inspector. +"Fire at that window, while I get to this man!--keep me covered!" + +His commands were eagerly obeyed. Sheltered by the roaring burst of +carbine fire he wriggled sideways in feverish haste and eventually gained +the stricken man. The latter's convulsive threshing of limbs had ceased +and an instant's examination convinced the inspector that Gully's random +shot had been fatal. + +For awhile the besiegers poured in brisk volleys upon the door and +windows, until the inspector gave the command to "Cease Fire!" +Suddenly--mockingly--hard upon the last shot, the echoes of which had +barely died away, came again the vicious, whip-like crack of the Luger; +this time from the southern end of the shack. The long-drawn, +nerve-shattering scream of the first casualty was duplicated, and a +carbine volley crashed from the river bank. + +Then up from the attacking party swelled an exceeding bitter, angry cry; +the grim, deadly exasperation of men goaded to the point of recklessly +attempting ruthless reprisal upon their hidden enemy. With a total +disregard of personal safety many of them sprang up out of cover, as if +to charge upon their hated objective. + +"As you were! Back, men! back!" rang out the deep, imperious voice of +Kilbride. The stern command checked the onrush of maddened men. "D'you +hear me?" he thundered, "Take cover again immediately--everyone. . . . +I'll give the word when to rush him, and that's not yet." + +It said much for the discipline of the Force that his commands were +obeyed, albeit in somewhat mutinous fashion. The inspector turned to +Slavin with fell eyes. "Christ!" he said, "there's two men gone! I +won't chance any more lives in this fashion! I'll give him ten minutes +to surrender and if he don't give up the ghost then . . . . I'll do what +an emergency like this calls for--what I came prepared to do, if +necessary. Sergeant! take charge of this side until further orders; I'm +going down the bank to the other party awhile." + +He stole away through the brush and presently they all heard his +stentorian tones ring out from the river bank. "Gully! oh, Gully! It's +Inspector Kilbride speaking. I'll give you ten minutes to come out and +give yourself up. If you don't--well! . . . I've got a charge of +dynamite here . . . and a fuse, and I'll blow you and your shack to hell, +my man. It's up to you--now!" + +There was no response to the inspector's ultimatum. Amidst dead silence +the prescribed time slowly passed. Fifteen minutes--then, a gasping +murmur of excitement arose from those on the eastern front, as in the +rapidly whitening dawn they saw Kilbride suddenly reappear around the +northern and blank end of the building. For some few moments they +watched his actions in awe-struck, breathless silence as, with bent back, +he busied himself with his dangerous task. + +Presently he straightened up. "Now! Look out, everybody!" he bawled. +He struck a match and applied it to something that immediately began to +splutter, and then he retreated a safe distance northward. All eyes were +glued, as if fascinated, to the deadly, sputtering fuse. Soon came the +dull, muffled roar of an explosion. The walls of the building sagged +outwards, the roof caved in, and the whole structure seemed to collapse +like a pack of cards, amid a cloud of dust. + +For some few seconds the party gazed fearfully at the work of +destruction; then a loud cheer went up, and with one accord all dashed +forward, filled with eager, morbid curiosity as to what they might find +buried beneath the ruins. + +Suddenly, midway between the brush and their objective they checked their +onrush and halted, staring in speechless amazement. Pushing his way up, +apparently from some hole beneath a pile of debris, appeared the figure +of a huge man. + +In their excitement the attackers had overlooked the possibility of a +cellar existing below the stone foundation of the dwelling. At this +juncture the party from the river bank was rapidly approaching the ruins +from its western side. The posse was in a dilemma. Neither party dare +fire at its quarry between them for fear of hitting each other. + +Gully apparently either did not realize the situation or did not care. +With face convulsed with passion, beyond all semblance to a human being, +he crouched and rushed the party on the eastern side of his wrecked home, +firing as he came. Badly hit, several of his assailants were speedily +_hor de combat_, among them, Hardy and McCullough. The whole incident +happened in quicker time than it takes to relate. + +Then, from out the startled crowd there sprang a man. It was Slavin. +His hour had come. There was something appalling in the spectacle of the +two gigantic men rushing thus upon each other. Suddenly, Gully tripped +over a log and fell headlong, his deadly gun flying from his grasp. With +a sort of uncanny, cat-like agility he scrambled to his feet and strove +to recover his weapon. He was a fraction of a second too late. A kick +from Slavin sent it whirling several yards away, and the next moment the +opponents were upon each other. + +At the first onslaught the issue of the combat seemed doubtful. The +ex-sheriff was no wrestler like Slavin, but he speedily demonstrated that +he was a boxer, as well as a gun-man. Cleverly eluding the grasp of his +powerful assailant for the moment, twice he rocked Slavin's head back +with fearful left and right swings to the jaw. With a bestial rumbling +in his throat, the sergeant countered with a pile-driving punch to the +other's heart; then, ducking his head to avoid further punishment, he +grappled with the murderer. Roaring inarticulately in their Berserker +rage, the pair bore a closer resemblance to a bear and a gorilla than men. + +Once in that terrible grip, however, Gully, big and powerful man though +he was, had not the slightest chance with a wrestler of Slavin's ability. +Shifting rapidly from one cruel hold to another the huge Irishman +presently whirled his antagonist up over his hip and sent him crashing to +the ground, face downwards. Then, kneeling upon the neck of his +struggling and blaspheming victim, he held him down until handcuffs +finally imprisoned the enormous wrists, and leg-irons the ankles. + +The grim, long-protracted duel was over at last. But at lamentable cost. +Two men killed outright, and five badly wounded had been the deadly toll +exacted by Gully in his last, desperate stand. + +The rays of the early morning shone upon a strange and solemn scene. +Gully, guarded by two constables, was seated upon the stone foundation +that marked the site of his wrecked dwelling. Head in hands, sunk in a +sort of stupor, his attitude portrayed that of a man from whom all +earthly hope had fled. Some distance away lay the wounded men, being +roughly, but sympathetically attended to by their comrades. All were +awaiting now the arrival of the coroner, and also the means of +transportation which the inspector had ordered MacDavid to requisition +for them. + +Presently came those who reverently bore the dead upon +hastily-constructed stretchers. Silently Inspector Kilbride indicated a +spot near the fringe of brush; and there, side by side, they laid them +down, covering the bodies with a blanket dragged from the debris of the +shattered dwelling. + +Bare-headed, the rest of the party gathered around their officer. Long +and sadly Kilbride gazed down upon the still forms outlined under their +covering. Twice he essayed to speak, but each time his voice failed him. + +"Men!" he said at last huskily, as if to himself. "Men! is this what I +have brought you into? . . . Is this--" + +He choked, and was silent awhile; then; "Oh!" cried he suddenly, "God +knows! . . . under the circumstances I used the best judgment I--" + +But Slavin broke in and laid a tremulous hand on his superior's shoulder. +"No! no! Sorr! . . . hush! for th' love av Christ! . . . Ye must not--" +the soft Hibernian brogue sank to a gentle hush--"niver fear . . . for +thim that's died doin' their juty! . . . 'Tis th' Peace, Sorr--th' Peace +everlastin' . . . for Hornsby an' Wade. They were good men. . . ." + +Yorke bent down and, drawing back a fold of the blanket, exposed two +still white faces. In the centre of Hornsby's forehead all beheld +Gully's terrible sign-manual. Wade had been shot through the throat. + +"Hornsby!" gasped Yorke brokenly, "poor old Gus Hornsby!" . . . He +turned a tired, drawn face up to Slavin's. "He was with us in the Yukon, +Burke. Remember how we used to rag him when he first came to us as a +cheechaco buck? But the poor beggar never used to get sore over it . . . +always seemed sort of . . . patient . . . and happy . . . no matter how +we joshed him. . . ." + +Gently he replaced the blanket, stared stupidly a moment at the grim, +haggard face of his sergeant, then he burst out crying and wandered away +from the sad scene. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + That very night, while gentle sleep + The people's eyelids kiss'd, + Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn, + Through the cold and heavy mist; + And Eugene Aram walk'd between, + With gyves upon his wrist. + "THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM" + + +Slowly the memorable June day had drawn to a close, and now darkness had +set in and the moon shone brightly down upon the old detachment of +Davidsburg. It had been a strenuous day for Inspector Kilbride and his +subordinates, as many details of the eventful case had to be arranged ere +they could leave with their prisoner on the night's train for the Post. + +The inspector's first care, naturally, had been the slow and careful +conveyance of the wounded men (Redmond included)--and the dead--down to +the special train which still awaited them on the Davidsburg siding. The +bulk of the party departed with them, the officer retaining Slavin, +Yorke, and McSporran. A coroner's inquest, held that afternoon upon the +remains of the unfortunate hobo, Drinkwater, had resulted in a verdict of +"wilful murder" being returned against Ruthven Gully. Two days later, at +the Post, similar verdicts were rendered in the cases of poor Hornsby and +Wade. + +Throughout the day Gully had remained in a sort of sullen, brooding +stupor. But now, with the coming of night, he seemed to grow +restless--pacing within the narrow confines of his cell like unto a +trapped wolf, his leg-shackles clanking at every turn. Seated outside +the barred door, McSporran maintained a close and vigilant guard. It +wanted four hours yet until train time and inside the living-room the +inspector, Slavin, and Yorke were beguiling the interval in low-voiced +conversation. + +"Strange thing, Sergeant," remarked Kilbride musingly, "I can't place him +now, but I'll swear I've seen this man, Gully, before; somewhere back of +beyond, I guess. I've been in some queer holes and corners on this globe +in my time--long before I ever took on the Force. Seems he has, too, +from what you and Yorke have told me. D----d strange! . . . I've got a +fairly good memory for faces but--" + +He broke off and looked enquiringly at McSporran, who had silently +entered just then. "What is it, McSporran?" + +"Gully, Sirr!" responded the constable, saluting. "He wad wish tu speak +wi' ye, Sirr." + +The inspector's face hardened, and his steely eyes glittered strangely as +he heard the news. For a brief space he remained, chin in hand, in deep +thought; then rising, he sauntered slowly over to the prisoner's cell. + +"What is it you want, Gully?" he said quietly. + +"Kilbride--Inspector!" came the great rumbling bass through the bars. +"If you keep me cooped up in this pen much longer . . . I tell +you! . . . you'll have me slinging loose in the head--altogether!" He +uttered a mirthless, wolf-like bark of a laugh. "My ears are keener than +your memory--I heard you speaking just now. Listen!--" a curiously +wistful note crept into his deep tones, for the inspector had made an +angry, impatient gesture--"Listen, Kilbride! . . . I'm gone up--I know +it--therefore, if I sing my 'swan song' now or later, it can matter +little one way or the other; and I would rather sing it to you and Slavin +and Yorke there than to anyone else. Before I am through, you all +may--shall we say--p'raps judge me a trifle less harshly than you do now. +Regard this as . . . practically the last request of a man who is as good +as dying . . . that--I be allowed to sit amongst you once more . . . and +talk, and talk, and ta--" + +His voice broke, and he left the sentence unfinished. For some few +seconds the inspector remained motionless, with bent head, just +looking--and looking--in deep, reflective silence at the doomed man who +importuned him. + +"Am I to understand that you wish to make a statement, Gully?" he said, +in even, passionless tones. "Remember!--you've been charged and warned, +man--whatever you say'll be used in evidence against you at your trial." + +The other, hesitating a moment, swallowed nervously in his agitation. + +"Yes," he said huskily, "I know--but that's all right! . . . As I said +before--it can make little or no difference . . . in my case. . . ." + +Turning, Kilbride silently motioned to McSporran to unlock the cell-door. + +The huge manacled prisoner emerged, and shuffled awkwardly towards the +inner room, closely attended by his armed escort. + +Slavin and Yorke, seated together at one end of the table, arose as Gully +entered. Standing curiously still, as if carved in stone, their bitter +eyes alone betraying their emotions, silently they gazed at the huge, +gaunt, unkempt figure that came shambling towards them. + +Gully halted and stared long and fixedly at the relentless faces of the +two men whose grim, dogged vigilance had led to his undoing. Over his +blood-streaked, haggard face there swept the peculiar ruthless smile +which they knew so well; and he raised his manacled hands in a semblance +of a salute. + +"_Morituri te salufant_!" he muttered in his harsh, growling bass--the +speech nevertheless of an educated man. + +"Eh, fwhat?" queried Slavin vaguely. The classical allusion was lost on +him, but Kilbride and Yorke exchanged a grim, meaning smile as they +recalled the ancient formula of the Roman arena. McSporran pushed +forward a chair, into which Gully dropped heavily. Chin cupped in hands, +and elbows resting on knees he remained for a space in an attitude of +profound thought. The inspector, resuming his chair at the table, +motioned his subordinates to be seated, and reached forward for some +writing materials. + +"All right, now, Gully!" he began, in a hard, metallic tone. "What is it +you wish to say?" All waited expectantly. + +Apparently with an effort Gully roused himself out of the deep reverie +into which be had sunk, and for a space he gazed with blood-shot eyes +into the calm, stern face of his questioner. Then, with a sort of dreamy +sighing ejaculation, he roused himself and, leaning back in his chair, +began the following remarkable story. He spoke in a recklessly earnest +manner and with a sort of deadly composure that startled and impressed +his hearers in no little degree. + +"Listen, Inspector," he said. "A good deal of the story I'm going to +tell you has no bearing on the--the--the--case in hand. There's no use +in you taking all this down. I understand procedure"--he smiled +wanly--"therefore, with your permission I'll go ahead, and you can +construct a brief statement on your own lines afterwards, which I will +sign." + +Kilbride bowed his head in assent to the other's request. + +"The name I bear now," began the prisoner,--"'Ruthven Gully'--is my real +name, though knocking around the world like I've been since I was a kid +of sixteen, and the many queer propositions I've been up against in my +time, why--I've found it expedient to use various aliases. + +"For instance"--he eyed the inspector keenly--"I wasn't known as 'Gully' +that time Cronje nailed us all at Doornkop, Kilbride, in +'ninety-six. . . ." + +Kilbride uttered a startled oath. Shaken out of his habitual stern +composure he stared at the man before him in sheer amazement. "Good +God!" he cried, "The 'Jameson Raid!' . . . Now I know you, +man!--you're--you're--wait a bit! I've got it on the tip of my +tongue--Mor--Mor--Mordaunt, by gad! . . . that's what you called yourself +then. Ever since I sat with you on that case I've been turning it over +in my head where in ever I'd fore-gathered with you before. It was your +moustache which fooled me--you were clean-shaven then. . . Well, +Well! . . ." + +He was silent awhile, overcome by the discovery. "Aye!" he resumed in an +altered voice, "I've got good cause to remember you, Mor--Gully, I mean. +You certainly saved my life that day . . . when we were lying in that +_donga_ together. I was hit pretty bad, and you stood 'em off. You were +a wonderful shot, I recollect. I saw you flop out six Doppers--one after +the other." + +He turned to Slavin. "Sergeant!" he said quietly, "You'd better leave +the leg-irons on, but remove his handcuffs--for the time-being, +anyway. . . ." He addressed himself to the prisoner with a sort of sad +sternness. "It's little I can do for you now, Gully . . . but I can do +that, at least. . . ." + +Slavin complied with his officer's request. Gully's huge chest heaved +once, and he bowed his head in silent acknowledgment of Kilbride's act of +leniency. + +"All right! go ahead, Gully!" said the latter. + +The prisoner took up his tale anew. "As I was saying--I left the Old +Country when I was sixteen. No need to drag in family troubles, +but . . . that's why. . . . Well! I hit for the States. Montana for a +start off, and it sure was a tough state in 'seventy-four, I can tell +you. That's where I first learned to handle a gun. I knocked around +between there and Wyoming and Arizona for about nine years, and during +that time I guess I tackled nearly every kind of job under the sun, but I +punched and rode for range outfits mostly. + +"Then I was struck with a fancy to see the South, and I drifted to +Virginia. I'd been there about two years, working as an overseer on a +tobacco plantation, when I got a letter from our family's solicitor +recalling me home. My eldest brother had died, and the estate had passed +on to me. Where, Inspector?--why, it was at Castle Brompton, a quiet +little country town in Worcestershire. + +"Well! I'd had a pretty rough training--living the life of a roustabout +for so many years, and I guess I kind of ran amuck when I struck home. I +played ducks and drakes with the estate, and the end of it was . . . I +got heavily involved in debt. There seemed nothing for it but to +up-anchor, and to sea again in my shirt. So, my fancy next took me to +Shanghai, where I obtained a poorly-paid Civil Service job--in the +Customs. I stuck that for about a year, and then I pulled +out--disgusted. The next place I landed up in was, if anything, +worse--the Gold Coast. From there I drifted to the Belgian Congo. I was +there for nearly two years doing--well! perhaps it's best for me not to +enter into details--we'll call it 'rubber.' It's a cruel country +that--one that a man doesn't exactly stay in for his health, anyway; for +a bad dose of fever nearly fixed me. It made me fed up with the climate +and--the life. So I pulled out of it and went down country to the +Transvaal. That's how I came to get mixed up in 'The Raid,' Inspector. +I was in Jo'burg at the time it was framed up, so I threw in my lot with +the rest of you. + +"Suddenly I had an overwhelming desire to go back to the States and the +range life again. I was properly fed up with Africa. So--back I went +there--to Montana again. I punched for one or two cow-outfits awhile, +and then came a time when a deputation of citizens came and put it up to +me if I'd take on the office of Deputy-Sheriff for ---- County, where I +happened to be working. I suppose the fact of my being a little more +handy with a gun than most had impressed some of them. Things were +running wild there just then, and for awhile I tell you, I was up against +a rather dirty proposition. I and my guns certainly worked overtime for +a stretch, till I got matters more or less ship-shape. I had the backing +of the best people in the community luckily, and eventually I won out. + +"Then--when the inevitable reaction set in with the peaceable times that +followed, somehow I managed to get in bad with some of them. They had no +more use for me or my guns. I was like a fish out of water. I decided +to pull out, for a strange hankering to see England and my old home again +came over me. So I resigned my office and headed back to the Old +Country. . . ." + +At this point in his narrative, Gully dropped his head in his hands and +rocked wearily awhile ere continuing haltingly: "It was the mistake of my +life--ever going back--to a civilized country. For a time I strove to +conduct myself as a law-abiding British citizen--to conform to the new +order of things, but--I had been amongst the rough stuff too long. I was +out of my sphere entirely. + +"One day, in a hotel at Leeds, I got into a violent quarrel with a +man--fellow of the name of Hammond. It was over a woman. He insulted +me--in front of a crowd of men at that--and finally he struck me. +Hitherto I'd taken no back-down from any man living, and I guess I forgot +myself then and kind of ran amuck--fancied I was back in Montana again. +Consequence was--I threw down on him in front of this crowd and shot him +dead. + +"Of course I was arrested and charged with murder in the first degree; +but as it was adduced at my trial that I'd received a certain amount of +provocation, I was sent down for fifteen years. I'd done little over six +months of my time in Barmsworth Prison when I and two of my fellow +convicts framed up a scheme to escape. It takes too long to go into +details how we worked it. I made my get-away, though I had to abolish a +poor devil of a warder in doing so. The other two lost out. One got +shot and the other was caught some days later--as I read in the papers. + +"Well! I managed to reach the States again, and eventually came over +this side of the line. As I had been convicted and sentenced under the +alias which I had adopted while in England--my real name never coming +out--I resumed my name of Gully again when I settled down here. My +relatives, what few I possess, have never known of my conviction and +imprisonment. All the time I was in England on my second trip I was +clean-shaven, but on returning to the States I let my moustache grow once +more. As you said, Kilbride--it is a very effectual disguise. Will one +of you give me a drink, please? My mouth's pretty dry with all this +talking." + +Yorke got up and brought him a glass of water, and he drank it down with +a murmur of thanks. + +"Now!" he said, continuing his narrative: "I'm coming to the worst part +of all. You'll all wonder I've not gone mad--brooding; but I've got to +go through with it. When I settled down here I honestly did struggle +hard to live down my past and start afresh with a clean sheet. I +borrowed some money from an old ex-sheriff friend of mine in +Montana--which loan, by the way, I have paid all back--every cent--and +bought"--he gazed gloomily at Kilbride--"what was my home. But +somehow . . . Fate seems to have dogged me and tripped me up in the end. +Until last January everything was going well with me. As Slavin and +Yorke here can testify . . . I was conducting myself fairly and squarely +with all men. + +"Then--one day Yorke brought that Blake and Moran case up in front of me. +Both of these men I'd met before, but they didn't recognize me again--not +absolutely. I usually contrived to keep pretty clear of them for reasons +which will appear obvious later. I'm coming to that. Moran I recognised +as a former Montana tough who used to hang around Havre--bronco-buster, +cow-puncher, and tin-horn by turns. Many a time I've caught him sizing +me up, in Cow Run and elsewhere--mighty hard, too, but he never seemed to +be sure of me. Once he did chance a feeler, but I just twirled my +moustache, a la Lord Tomnoddy, and bluffed him to a finish. + +"Larry Blake"--a ruthless gleam flickered momentarily in Gully's +deep-set, shadowy eyes--"Larry Blake, I recognized as the son of the +Governor of Barmsworth Prison--old Gavin Blake. Sometimes this young +fellow used to come around with his father, when the old gentleman was +making his daily tour of inspection. I well remember the first time I +saw him--young Larry. I was chipping stone in the quarry, amongst a +gang, with a ball and chain on. I'd been in about two months then. The +Governor was showing some visitors around, and his son was with him. +They were staring at us like people do at wild animals in a show. I was +pointed out to them, and my recent crime mentioned. I remember young +Blake eying me with especial interest. He came out to Canada and hit +these parts about two years after I'd located here. + +"Well! now and again when we'd run across each other I'd find him looking +at me in a queer, vague fashion, too; but I felt safe enough with him; +like I did with Moran--until this case came up. After it was over, he +and I happened to be alone, and, in a round-about way, he began asking me +questions. He did it so clumsily, though, that my suspicions were +aroused at once. Of course I bluffed him--or thought I had--easily for +the moment, but one day I happened to be in the Post Office getting my +mail when, amongst a bunch of letters on the counter I saw one addressed +to 'Gavin Blake, Esq., Governor of Barmsworth Prison, England.' Old +Kelly, the postmaster, having his back to me at the time, fumbling around +the pigeon-holes, I promptly annexed this letter and slipped it into my +pocket. + +"When I opened it up my suspicions were verified. Young Blake wrote to +his father that he'd come across a man whom he could almost swear to as +being one of the three convicts who'd broken out of Barmsworth some years +back. He asked what steps he'd better take in the case--if the original +warrant issued for me could be forwarded to the Mounted Police, and so +on. He said his intentions were to try and gain further evidence, and in +the meantime to confide in no one about his suspicions until he received +definite instructions what steps to take. + +"I guess the devil must have got a good grip on me again after I'd read +that letter. It seemed no use trying to redeem the past with outsiders +like young Blake making it their business to butt in and lay one by the +heels. Anyway, like Satan at prayers, I didn't feel like being coolly +sacrificed when my years of honest effort were drawing near their reward +in the shape of a fairly prosperous ranch--just at the whim of a lazy, +profligate young busy-body. + +"From that hour Larry Blake was practically--'gone up.' I'd deliberately +made up my mind to put him out of business on the first convenient +opportunity that presented itself. That opportunity came on the night he +was fighting with Moran in the hotel. I thought I could kill two birds +with one stone. I'll admit it was a devilish idea, but I was desperate. +Of course things didn't shape out as I'd planned--Moran's alibi for +instance, or that hobo, Drinkwater. + +"I know to you it will only appear sheer nonsense on my part ever to +start in attempting to justify my--my abolishment of him. But this--what +I am going to tell you--is the absolute truth of what happened. In the +first place--when he spotted me bringing Moran's horse into the stable +that night--although I was mad and man-handled the poor devil at the +time--I felt fairly easy in my mind later, thinking he would drift out of +town next day, after the manner of his kind. But when he was brought up +in front of me afterwards, I realized the serious predicament I was in." + +He turned to Slavin. "Sergeant!" he went on: "I'll admit I was feeling +pretty queer when you were examining that man--especially about the +smelling of drink business. I'd slipped him a snort of whiskey after +you'd gone down to Doctor Cox's to get those papers signed. I told him +to keep his mouth shut if he was questioned about any horse or man--and +that I'd get him off if he obeyed my instructions. Of course he didn't +know what all this was for. He had no opportunity of knowing--never did +know, though I fancy he thought it was a case of horse-stealing. Anyway, +my promises and the drink made him my ally at once. Only human nature +for him to side with me against the Police. As you know, Sergeant, you +can get more definite results from that class of man by a drink bribe +than by all the threats and promises in the world. + +"My original intention in taking him out to my place was to slip him +twenty dollars or so, and head him adrift westward, and so out of things. +But after we got home and I put the proposition up to him, the beggar +began to assert himself and get bold and saucy--tried to blackmail me for +an unheard of amount--threatening he'd go and tell you everything if I +didn't come across, and all that. Finally I lost my temper with him and +gave him a good slap across the face. He happened to be outside the +house bucking wood at the time, and, when I hit him, he came for me with +the axe. I only jumped back just in time, as he struck. I threw down on +him and put him out of business right-away then, realizing I was up +against it." + +Gully halted for a space and leaned his head in his hands. "God!" he +muttered presently, "what nights I've had! I've killed many men in my +time, but those two--I hated framing up all that business on you fellows +next day--those tracks and the bill-folder, and all that useless chasing +for a week, but it seemed to me to be the only plausible bluff I could +run on you, under the circumstances. Now, are there any more things you +don't understand? Any questions you'd like to ask me?" + +"Yes!" queried Slavin. "How did you get to Calgary that night--after +you'd missed the nine-thirty eastbound. Jump a freight, or what? You +were seen to get on the train. . . ." + +"I know that," said Gully slowly, "I did it for a blind. I walked +through the coaches and slipped out again at the far end of the +platform--in the dark. No! I didn't jump a freight, Sergeant. I was +tempted to; but on second thoughts the idea made me feel kind of uneasy. +Perhaps you'll be dubious of this, but, as a fact, I took a +'tie-pass'--walked it all the way to Calgary on the track. I was about +done when I made Shagnappi Point, beating my passage through all that +snow. I bought a new pair of cow-puncher's boots while I was in town. +You remember I was wearing them when I returned. I had the overshoes +wrapped up as a parcel and packed them back to the ranch and burnt +them--and Drinkwater's boots." + +"How about that Savage automatic?" said Yorke, "the one you shot those +dogs with yesterday? We've got your Luger, but where's the Savage gun?" + +"Oh, yes!" replied Gully wearily, "of course I had two guns. I never +used to pack the Luger around--afterwards, well! . . . for obvious +reasons. You'll probably find the Savage in the cellar at my +place--that's if it isn't buried, like I nearly was." + +There was a long silence, broken only by the scratch, scratch, of the +inspector's pen, as he rapidly indited a formal statement for the +prisoner to sign. Once during its composition he halted for a brief +space and, leaning back in his chair, gazed long with a sort of dreary +sternness at the huge, unkempt figure before him. + +"Gully," he said slowly, "whatever in God's name put it into your head to +stand off the Police in the way you did? Shooting those two poor chaps +and nearly putting the kibosh on five others! Whatever did you hope to +gain by it? You must have known it was absolutely impossible for you to +make your get-away from us. Why, man! we had you cornered like a wolf in +a trap. It was worse than silly and useless and cruel for you to act in +the way you did!" + +"Oh, my God! I don't know!" moaned Gully, rocking despondently with his +head in his hands. "I must have gone clean mad for the time +being. . . ." He gazed gloomily at Slavin and Yorke, muttering half to +himself: "What little things do trip a man up in the end! The best laid +schemes o' mice and men! But for my shooting those cursed dogs yesterday +you'd never, never have suspected me. The whole thing would just have +been filed and forgotten in time--would just have remained one of those +unfathomable mysteries. Directly after I'd thrown down on those curs I +realized what a d----d bad break I'd made--what my momentary loss of +temper was going to cost me. I could tell by the way you all looked at +me what was in your minds. . . ." + +"Yes, but how about that fishing expedition of ours, Gully?" said Yorke. +"You seem to have forgotten that." And he related the story of Redmond's +dive. + +"Ah!" retorted Gully, bitterly. "And yet you might have got snagged a +hundred times there and only just cursed and snapped your line and reeled +in, thinking it was a log or something. . . . Well, as I was saying, I +realized the jig was up after that dog business, and directly I got home +I began making preparations for my get-away last night. If you'd all +only have come half an hour later than you did--That's what made me so +mad--just another half hour later, mind you, and I would have been +away--en route for the Coast by the night train." + +Presently Kilbride threw aside his pen and straightened up. "Now, +listen, Gully!" he said. And he read out the confession that he had +composed from the main facts of the prisoner's remarkable statement. + +"Yes!" muttered Gully thoughtfully, as the inspector finished. "Yes, +that will do, Kilbride. Give me the pen, please, and I will sign +it. . . ." + +He proceeded to affix his signature, continuing with a sort of deadly +composure: "I have endorsed and executed many death-warrants in my +time--in my capacity of Deputy-Sheriff--I little thought that some day I +might be called upon to sign my own . . . which this document virtually +is. . . ." + +He reared himself up to his huge, gaunt height, and with a sweeping +glance at his captors added: "Nothing remains for me now I imagine, but +to shake hands with--Radcliffe.[1] . . ." + +And his dreadful voice died away like a single grim note of a great, +deep-toned bell, tolled perchance in some prison-yard. + + +"_Eshcorrt_! Get ready!" boomed out Sergeant Slavin's harsh command. +The party was on the station platform. Yorke and McSporran fell in +briskly on either side of their heavily-manacled prisoner, and stood +watching the distant lights of the oncoming east-bound train as it +rounded the Davidsburg bend. + +One last despairing glance Gully cast about him at the all familiar +surroundings, then he raised his fettered hands on high and lifted up his +great voice: + +"I have striven! I have striven!--and now!--Oh! there is no God! Bear +witness there is no God! No God! . . ." he cried to the heavens. + +The wild, harsh, dreadful blasphemy rang far and wide out into the night, +floating over the nearby river and finally dying away a ghastly murmur up +among the timber-lined spurs of Crag Canon. + +And a huge, gaunt lobo wolf, lying at the crest of the draw, flung up his +gray head and howled back his awful note--seemingly in echo: "There is +no God! no God!" + + +[1] Note by Author--Canada's official executioner at this period. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + "Feel my pulse, sir, if you want to, + but it ain't much use to try--" + "Never say that," said the Surgeon, + as he smothered down a sigh: + "Chuck a brace, for it won't do, man, + for a soldier to say die!" + "What you say don't make no diffrunce, Doctor, + an'--you wouldn't lie. . . ." + "THE OLD SERGEANT" + + +"Git there! Come a-Haw-r-r, then! Whoa!" With a flourish, Constable +Miles Sloan, the Regimental Teamster, swung the leaders of his splendid +four-in-hand and pulled up at the front entrance of the Holy Cross +Hospital. Slewing around on his high box-seat he addressed himself to +the drag's occupants, Slavin and Yorke. + +"I don't know whether they will let you see him, or not," he remarked +doubtfully, "he's a pretty sick man." + +"We will chance ut, anyway," mumbled Slavin, as he and Yorke climbed out +of the rig. "Ye'd best wait awhile, Miles! We shan't be long." + +Quietly--very quietly, Sister Marthe opened the door of room Number +Fifty-six, and with list-slippered noiselessness stepped out into the +corridor. + +"Oh, Mon Dieu!" she ejaculated, startled at the sudden apparition of two +scarlet-coated figures standing motionless outside the door, "Oh, +m'sieurs, 'ow you fright me!" and the expressive eyes under the white +coif and the shoulders and supple hands of the French-Canadian +Nursing-Sister made great play. + +Yorke saluted her with grave courtesy. "Sister," he said anxiously, "how +is Constable Redmond doing? Can we see him?" + +She glanced irresolutely a moment at the handsome, imploring countenance +of the speaker, and then her gaze flickered to his huge companion. The +silent, wistful appeal she read in the latter's grim, cadaverous face +decided her. + +"_Eheu_!" she said softly, "'e is a ver' seeck man . . . but come then, +m'sieurs, if you wish it!" + +Cautiously they tip-toed into the room behind her. + +Yes! They decided, he was a "seeck" man all right! So sick that he +could not raise his flushed, hollow-cheeked young face from the pillow to +salute his comrades with his customary impious bonhomie. Now, gabbling +away to himself in the throes of delirium, ever his feverish eyes stared +beyond the hospital-walls westwards to Davidsburg. + +With his brow contracted with an expression of vague worry, he was living +over and over again the memorable night in which he had gotten his wound. + +"Slavin!--Yorkey!" he kept repeating, in tones of such yearning entreaty +that moved those individuals more than they cared to show. Yes, they +were both of them there, standing by the side of his cot; but the poor +sufferer's unseeing eyes betrayed no recognition. + +The deep sorrow that oppressed Slavin and Yorke just then those worthies +rarely--if ever--alluded to afterwards. Passing the love of women is the +unspoken, indefinable spirit of true comradeship that exists between some +men. + +For one brief, soul-baring moment the comrades stared at each other, +their self-conscious faces reflecting mutually their inmost feelings; +then Yorke turned to Sister Marthe. + +"What does the Doctor say?" he whispered anxiously. + +The nurse was about to make answer when the door was softly opened and +that gentleman entered the room, accompanied by Captain Bargrave and +Inspector Kilbride. + +Involuntarily, from long habit of discipline, Slavin and Yorke, stiffened +to "attention" in the presence of their superiors, until, with a kindly, +yet withal slightly imperious gesture, the O.C. mutely signified them +to relax their formal attitude. The Regimental Surgeon, Dr. Sampson, a +tall, gray-moustached, pleasant-faced man, nodded to them familiarly and +proceeded to make minute examination of his patient's wound. From time +to time he questioned and issued low-voiced instructions to Sister +Marthe. Perfectly motionless, the grave-eyed quartette of policemen +stood grouped around the cot, silently awaiting the physician's verdict. + +Throughout, poor Redmond had continued to toss and rave incessantly. +Much of his babbling was incoherent and fragmentary--breaking off short +in the middle of a sentence or dying away in a mumbling, indistinct +murmur. At intervals though, his voice rang out with startling clearness. + +"Ah-a-a! Here he is!" he cried out suddenly, "Gully!"--all eyes were +centred on the flushed, unquiet face and restless hands. There seemed a +curious, morbid fascination in watching the workings of that +sub-conscious mind. "No use, Gully! You can't make it from there!"--the +twitching hands made a motion as of levelling a carbine--"No use, man! +I've got you covered. . . . You' better give in! . . ." + +He paused for a space, panting feverishly, then his eyes became wilder +and his speech more rapid. + +"No! no! Gully!" he gasped out imploringly, "it's Yorkey, I tell you--oh, +don't pick off Yorkey! . . . Drink? . . ."--the unnaturally bright eyes +stared unseeingly at the motionless figure of the O.C., standing at the +foot of the cot--"Not so much--now--since--looking after him. . . . Not +a bad chap. . . . We fought once. . . . Yes, Sir! . . . had--hell of a +fight! . . . Pax? . . . sure!--bless you!--buried ruddy hatchet--auld +lang syne--Slavin. . . . St. Agnes' Eve! . . . How he sings--! Oh, +shut up, Yorkey!--Sings, I tell you--! Hark! . . . that's him singin' +now--Listen! . . . What? . . . it's Stevenson's 'Requiem'. . . . Burke! +Burke! . . . the ----'s always singin' that . . . goes--" + +And the weak, fretful voice shrilled up in a quavering falsetto-- + + "_Under the wide--and--starry sky + Dig--the grave, and--let me--lie; + Glad did I--live, and--gladly die, + And I laid--me down with--a w----_" + +The shaky, pitiful tones died away in vague, incoherent mumblings. + +Yorke uttered a queer choking sound in his throat, and turned his face +away from the little group. Slavin, in silent comprehending sympathy, +laid a huge hand on the other's shoulder to steady him. In customary +British fashion, the O.C. and the Inspector strove to mask their emotions +under an exaggerated grimness of mien, only their eyes betraying their +feelings. The former, toying with his sweeping, fair moustache in +agitated fashion, gazed drearily around the sick-room till his stern, yet +kindly old eyes finally came to rest upon a framed scriptural quotation +which was hanging on the wall above the head of the cot. + +In corpulent, garish, black, red and gold German text the inscription ran: + + _At even, when the sun was set, + The sick, O Lord, around Thee lay; + Oh in what divers pains they met! + Oh in what joy they went away!_ + +Abstractedly, the old soldier read and re-read the verse till his eyes +ached, and he was forced to lower them and meet the tell-tale ones of +Kilbride. + +The Doctor, with a final satisfied scrutiny of his patient's wound, which +he had laid bare, bade the nurse dress it afresh, then, beckoning to the +others, he withdrew from the room, followed by the O.C. and his +subordinates. The Doctor's first words reassured them in no little +degree. + +"Oh, I've good hopes of him," he said. "He seems to be doing all right. +He'll pull around--that is, unless any unforeseen complications set in. +It's that journey down here yesterday that's upset him. Absolutely +necessary under the circumstances, of course, but--terribly hard on a man +in his condition. I think it'll be best for nobody to visit him--for +awhile anyway . . . must be kept as quiet as possible. Well! let's have +a look at the others!" + +The remaining wounded men occupied a large, semi-private ward lower down +the corridor. Of these last Hardy's case was by far the most serious. +He had been shot through the body; the high-pressure Luger bullet luckily +missing any vital organ. McCullough had been drilled through the calf of +his left leg, Davis through the arm, and Belt had had the knuckles +stripped from his right hand. All of them were resting quietly, though +weak from loss of blood and the train journey, + +The O.C. and Kilbride remained for a short time in the ward, manifesting +much kindly sympathy for the injured men, then, deeming that perhaps the +party was retarding the nurses' ministrations, the O.C. withdrew, +beckoning his subordinates to follow him. + +Slavin and Yorke walked slowly down the hospital steps and climbed into +the Police drag again. Sloan gathered up his lines and swung around on +his high seat. + +"Hullo!" he remarked sleepily. "Here you are again, eh? Begun to think +you were both in there for keeps! Well, did you see him?" + +"Yes!" answered Yorke tonelessly, avoiding the teamster's eyes, "We've +seen him. Home, James!" + + +Firm, measured footsteps sounded in the hospital corridor and halted with +a jingle of spurs outside the door of room Number Fifty-six. + +"Come aboard!" came the clear, boyish voice of its occupant, in response +to a knuckle-tattoo on the panel, and the visitors, Slavin and Yorke, +entered. + +Redmond, sitting up in bed, comfortably propped with pillows, threw aside +the magazine he had been reading and greeted the new-comers jovially and +with a light in his eyes which did the hearts of those worthies good to +see. + +A month's careful nursing and absolute quiet had transformed their +wounded comrade into a somewhat different being from the delirious +patient they had beheld when last they stood in that room. Allowing for +a slight emaciation and the inevitable hospital pallor, he appeared to be +well on the road to convalescence. + +"Sit at ease!" he said, with a fair semblance of his old grin. "Smoke up +if you want to, they don't kick about it here. I've tried it but it +tastes rotten as yet. Well! What's doin' in L?" (He referred to the +Division.) + +"Hell, yu' mane," corrected Slavin grimly, as he and Yorke proceeded to +divest themselves of their side-arms and unbutton their tunics. "Not +much doin' now, but--later, p'raps. . . ." + +"Just got back from Supreme Court," explained Yorke. "Gully! . . . He's +to be 'bumped off' this day-month. . . ." + +There came a long, tense silence. + +"G---d!" broke out Yorke suddenly, arousing Redmond out of the deep +reverie into which he had sunk on receipt of the news--"the look on that +Eugene Aram face of his when the jury filed in and threw the book at him! +I can't forget it somehow." + +"Well! yeh want tu thin!" remarked Slavin bluntly. "Quit ut! . . . d'ju +hear? . . . 'Tis no sort av talk, that, for a sick room. . . ." + +And hereafter they all avoided the sinister subject. + +Presently McCullough came limping in on his crutches, and ere long that +wily individual succeeded with his customary ingenuity in inveigling the +company into a facetious barrack-room argument. Later they commenced +relating racy stories. + +Slavin's deep-set eyes began to twinkle and glow, as he unburdened +himself of a lengthy narrative concerning a furlough he had spent in his +native land many years back, in which Ballymeen Races, a disreputable +"welshing" bookmaker, himself, a jug of whiskey and a blackthorn stick +were all hopelessly mixed in one grand Hibernian tangle. + +"Beat ut, he did, over hedge an' bog an' ditch, wid all our money, th' +dhirrty dog. But I cud run tu, in thim days, an' whin I caught up I +shure did play a tchune on th' nob av um!" concluded the sergeant +thoughtfully. In pursuance of his daily round of the wards, Dr. Sampson +presently came swinging in amongst them and saluted the party with his +usual breezy bonhomie. A universal favourite with the members of the +Force his entry was acclaimed with delight. They promptly bade him sit +down and contribute--a la Boccaccio--to their impromptu Decameron, which +request he (sad to relate) complied with. + +Amid the roar of laughter that greeted the Doctor's last bon mot, that +gentleman looked ruefully at his watch and prepared to depart. + +"Twenty past twelve!" he ejaculated, "and I've got four more patients to +see yet. . . ! Behold the retarding influences of bad company!" + +"Say, Doctor," enquired Yorke, "how's Hardy doing? Is he bucking up at +all? He was pretty down in the mouth last time I saw him." + +The Doctor's genial countenance clouded slightly. "Well, no!" he said, +gravely, "he's not doing well at all. I've been rather worried over him +lately. The man's relapsed into a curious state of inertia--seems +incapable of being roused. Organically he's nothing to fear now; I'll +stake my professional reputation on that. But when a man gets down like +he is now, why, the mind often reacts on the body with serious results. +If he was in a tropical climate he'd snuff out like a candle. That's all +that's retarding his otherwise certain recovery now--if we could only----" + +Here, McCullough, who had been an interested listener broke in. "Rouse +him, Doctor?" he queried, "you say he wants rousing? . . . Is that +all? . . . All right then! . . . I know him better than you do--I'll +bet you I'll rouse him!" he concluded a trifle brutally. + +And he swung off on his crutches and presently levered himself into the +ward where Hardy lay. + +In actual bodily recovery the latter's physical condition fully equalled +Redmond's, but the brooding, listless demeanor of the patient confirmed +only too well the Doctor's diagnosis. Now, sunk in the coma of utter +dejection, Hardy was lying back on his pillows like a man weary of life. + +Sometime earlier, in response to his earnest solicitations, he had been +allowed to have his beloved parrot in hospital with him. All day long +the disreputable-looking bird gabbled away contentedly as it climbed +around in its cage, which had been placed on a small table alongside the +cot. + +McCullough's first move was to resort to the never-failing expedient of +arousing the parrot's ire by puffing tobacco-smoke into its cage. +Mechanically the outraged bird responded with a shocking blast of +invective, winking rapidly its white parchment-lidded eyes and swinging +excitedly to and fro on its perch. + +Hardy admonished the joker--lethargically, but with a certain degree of +malevolence in his weary tones. + +"Aw, chack it, Mac!" he drawled. "W'y carn't yer let th' bleedin' bird +alone? Yer know 'e don't like that bein' done t'im. Jes' 'awk t'im +tellin' yer as much!" + +McCullough turned on his crutches and leered awhile upon the speaker with +a sort of mournful triumph, than he lifted up his voice in a very fair +imitation of Hardy's own unmusical wail---- + + "Old soldiers never die, never die, never die, + Old soldiers never die--they simply fade aw-ay." + +"I don't think!" he concluded _sotto voce_ to Davis, as that individual, +sitting down on the next cot began preparing his wounded arm for the +ministrations of Sister Marthe who had just entered the ward. + +"No use!" McCullough rambled on. "I tell yu' th' man's as good as 'gone +up.' Harry. . . . Well! I'll have old Kissiwasti when he pegs out +anyway. I won't half smoke-dry th' old beggar then! I'll teach him to +swear. . . !" + +"Eh! . . . 'Ere, wot abaht it?" + +The cockney's voice held no trace of lethargy now. The sharply-uttered, +vindictive query was matched by the blazing eyes which were regarding the +farrier-corporal with undisguised hostility. + +"Wot abaht wot?" mimicked McCullough, though his heart smote him for the +cold-blooded evasion. + +"Wot abaht wot you sed abaht me. . . ?" + +"Well, wot abaht it. . . ?" + +Speechless with rage, for a moment Hardy gazed into the other's +nonchalant mask-like visage, then, with a gesture of maniacal impotence, +he raised his clenched fists high above his head. + +Sister Marthe now judged it high time to intervene. During the enactment +of this little tableau she had stood looking on in mute bewilderment. +Despite her imperfect knowledge of English, and especially the +vernacular, she had a shrewd intuition of what had passed between the two +men. + +Seizing McCullough by the arm, despite his protestations of injured +innocence, she gently, but firmly, escorted him out of the ward. + +"Vas! vas!--Now you go, M'sieu McCullough! . . . out of ze ward +right-away! . . . Vat you say--vat you do--I do not know, but you 'ave +excite 'im 'orrible! . . . Oh, _pardonnez-moi_, Docteur!" she +ejaculated, as she bumped into that gentleman in the corridor. + +"Hullo!" said the latter inquiringly, as he remarked the little nurse's +flushed, angry face. "What's up, Sister Marthe?" + +For answer, that irate lady pointed accusingly to McCullough. That +worthy, his questionable experiment accomplished, was retreating up the +corridor as fast as his crutches could carry him. + +"First, Docteur," began the nurse indignantly, "'e blow smoke in ze eye +of ze parrot, then 'e turn roun' to _pauvre_ M'sieu 'Ardy an' 'e +sing--oh, I 'ave not ze English, but 'e _blague_ 'im so-- + + "_Vieux soldats ne meurent! jamais! jamais! jamais! + Vieux soldats ne meurent jamais!--ils simplement passent!_" + +"An' M'sieu 'Ardy 'e say: 'Vat about?' an' then 'e raise 'is two 'ands e +Ciel--so! an' 'e tell Le Bon Dieu all about it. Oh, 'ow 'e pray! +Ecoutez! Docteur! you can 'ear 'im now! . . ." + +And awhile Doctor Sampson listened, a grim smile lurking around the +corners of his firm mouth, as he leaned against the open door of the ward. + +"Praying, Sister?" he ejaculated. "It's the queerest kind of praying +I've ever heard. But is it him--or is it the parrot?" + +Two days later he remarked to the O.C. and Kilbride: "I'm glad to be able +to report a decided improvement in that man Hardy's condition. His pulse +is stronger, his appetite is increasing and--he's beginning to grouse. +That old ruffian of a farrier-corporal, McCullough, was right, begad!--he +knew the man better than I did. As a general rule I'm inclined to be +rather sceptical of such drastic experiments, but in certain cases, er--" + +"Something of the sort might be beneficial if applied to young Redmond, +too," remarked the O.C., testily. "He's down in the dumps now; though to +give him his due . . . he tries hard not to show it whenever I happen to +be in the hospital. Dudley, my Orderly-room sergeant, is leaving next +month--time-expired--so I thought I was conferring a great favour on the +boy by promising him the step-up--good staff appointment--give him a +chance to recuperate thoroughly. But no!--my young gentleman courteously +declines my munificent offer. Nothing must serve him but he must go back +to me Irish 'ginthleman' and that d----d dissipated scamp of a Yorke." + +"It's the spirit of comradeship," remarked Kilbride quietly. "If I might +suggest, Sir, . . . I think it would be better if you do decide to let +him go back there. They pull well together and do good work, those +three." + + +"'Ullo, Reddy!" called out Constable Hardy, as he directed his wobbly +steps towards the bench on the hospital balcony where George was seated, +"'ow long 'ave you bin up 'ere? Th' O.C. an' Kilbride was round jes' +now. You didn't see 'em, eh?" + +"No," answered Redmond listlessly. And thereupon he relapsed into moody +silence. + +"Wy, wot's up?" enquired Hardy presently, scanning the other's downcast +countenance. "Wot's th' matter wiv you, son? . . . you don't look +'appy! . . ." + +"You bet I'm not, either!" burst out George suddenly. "The Old Man's +offered me Dudley's job, but I don't want a staff job. I want to go back +to Davidsburg. Who cares to be stuck around the Post?" + +"Me for one!" retorted the old soldier grinning, "Jes' now, anyway. +Listen, son! Th' Old Man 'e sez to me: ''Ardy!' 'e sez, 'you've bin 'it +pretty bad and I find you deserve a softer class of dewty than goin' back +t' prisoner's escort. I think I'll recommend you for Provo'-Sorjint, in +charge o' th' Guard-room, w'en you're able t' return t' dewty,' 'e sez." + +With an effort Redmond roused himself to the point of congratulating the +Cockney upon his prospective promotion. He had no desire to act as a wet +blanket on such an auspicious occasion as this, his own troubles +notwithstanding. + +"That ain't all," continued Hardy, with a gloating chuckle. "Th' Old +Man, 'e sez 'Belt's bein' invalided, McCullough's gettin' 'is third +stripe, an' Dyvis is goin' dahn t' th' Corp'ril's Class at Regina, but +that there young Redmond worries me! I don't know wot t' do abaht 'im,' +'e sez--jes' like that--sorter kind-like--not a bit like th' O.C. o' a +Division torkin' t' a buck private. + +"'Beg yer pardon, Sir!' I sez, 'but if you let 'im go back t' Dyvidsburg +I fink 'e'll be quite contented. Seems like 'e wants t' be wiv Sorjint +Slavin an' Constable Yorke agin.' + +"'Fink so?' sez 'e, pullin' 'is oweld moustache, 'I sure do, Sir,' I sez. +'So be it, then!' 'e sez, turnin' t' Kilbride, but th' Inspector 'e sez +nothin':--'e on'y larfs. An' then they went away." + +Redmond, giving vent to a delighted oath, came out of his sulks on the +instant. + +"Hardy!" he cried, "you're a gentleman! . . ." + +"Nay!" was the other's disclaimer. "A dranken oweld soweljer, son . . . +that's all." + +But Redmond heard him not. With elbows resting upon the balcony-rail he +was looking beyond the Elbow Bridge, beyond Shagnappi Point--westwards to +Davidsburg, his face registering the supreme content of a man who had +just attained his heart's desire. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED*** + + +******* This file should be named 15940.txt or 15940.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/9/4/15940 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +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. 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