Ranching for Sylvia Part 48

He picked up the knife. Grant rose, and they set off, leading the horse, which moved slowly and painfully. It had grown dark and the trail was rough, but the farmer plodded homeward, stopping a few moments now and then. The path, however, grew smoother when they had left the sandy ridges behind, and by and by the lights of the homestead commenced to twinkle on the vast shadowy plain. Soon after they reached it, George rode away, mounted on a fresh horse, in search of Constable Flett.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE CLIMAX

George was tired and sleepy when he reached the settlement early in the morning, and found Flett at Hardie's house. It transpired from their conversation that there had been a disturbance at the Sachem on the return of a party which had driven out to the sale, and one man, who accused a companion of depriving him of a bargain, had attacked and badly injured him with a decanter. Flett, being sent for, had arrested the fellow, and afterward called upon the clergyman for information about his antecedents and character. He listened with close attention while George told his tale; and then examined the knife he produced.

"This is about the limit!" he exclaimed. "You wouldn't have persuaded me that the thing was possible when I was first sent into the district.

It isn't what one expects in the wheat-belt, and it certainly has to be stopped."

"Of course," said George, with some impatience. "But wouldn't it be wiser to consider the ways and means? At present the fellows are no doubt pushing on for the frontier with two valuable teams and a wad of stolen bills."

Flett smiled at him indulgently.

"This isn't a job that can be put through in a hurry. If they're heading for the boundary--and I guess they are--they'll be in Dakota or Montana long before any of the boys I'll wire to could come up with them. Our authority doesn't hold on American soil."

"Is that to be the end of it?"

"Why, no," Flett answered dryly. "As I guess you have heard, they have had trouble of this kind in Alberta for a while; and most every time the boys were able to send back any American mavericks and beef-cattle that were run into Canada. As the result of it, our chiefs at Regina are pretty good friends with the sheriffs and deputies on the other side. They're generally willing to help us where they can."

"Then you shouldn't have much difficulty in trailing your men. Suppose a fellow turned up with four exceptionally good horses and offered them to an American farmer or dealer, wouldn't it arouse suspicion?"

"It might," said Flett, with a meaning smile. "But the thing's not so simple as it looks. We all know that Canadian steers and horses have been run off and disposed of across the frontier; and now and then a few from that side have disappeared in Canada. This points to there being a way of getting rid of them; some mean white on a lonely holding will take them at half-value, and pa.s.s them along. What we have to do is to send a man over quietly to investigate, and get the sheriffs and deputies to keep their eyes open. I'm going to beg the Regina people to let me be that man."

"You may as well understand that it isn't the return of the horses Grant wants so much as the conviction of the men who waylaid him."

"Then," said Flett, pointedly, "he must be mighty mad."

Hardie joined in George's laugh; but the constable went on:

"I believe we're going to get them; but it will take time--all summer, perhaps. I've known our boys lay hands on a man they wanted, eighteen months afterward."

"In one way, I don't think that's much to their credit," the clergyman remarked.

Taking up the knife George had handed him, Flett pointed to some initials scratched on the bone haft.

"Kind of foolish thing for the fellow to put his name on his tools; but I don't know anybody those letters might stand for. Now you describe him as clearly as you can, while I put it down."

George did as he was bidden, and added: "There were two more--one of them looked like Langside--and I believe a fourth man, though I may be mistaken in this. They were moving about pretty rapidly and the light was bad."

Flett got up.

"I'll have word sent along to Regina, and then try to locate their trail until instructions come. I want to get about it right away, but there's this blamed fellow who knocked out his partner at the Sachem, and it will take me most of a day's ride before I can hand him on to Davies. It's a charge that n.o.body's going to worry about, and it's a pity he couldn't have escaped. Still, that's the kind of thing that can't happen too often."

He went out and George turned to Hardie.

"How does the matter strike you?"

"I've an idea that Flett was right in saying it was the limit. There was a certain romance about these disturbances when they began; they were a novelty in this part of Canada. People took them lightly, glad of something amusing or exciting to talk about. It was through popular indifference that the gang first gained a footing, but by degrees it became evident that they couldn't be dislodged without a vigorous effort. People shrank from making it; and, with Beamish backing them, the fellows got steadily bolder and better organized. All the time, however, they were really at the mercy of the general body of orderly citizens. Now they have gone too far; this last affair can't be tolerated. Instead of apathy, there'll be an outbreak of indignation; and I expect the people who might have stopped the thing at the beginning will denounce the police."

George nodded.

"That's my idea. What's our part?"

"I think it's to a.s.sist in the reaction. Your story's a striking one.

We had better get it into a newspaper as soon as possible. I suppose it would be correct to say that Grant was cruelly beaten?"

"His face is blue from jaw to temple. They knocked him nearly senseless with the b.u.t.t of a whip, while he was lying, helpless, on the ground."

"And your horse was badly wounded?"

"I wish it weren't true; there's a gash about eight inches long. If it will a.s.sist the cause, you can say the stab was meant for me."

"Well," said Hardie, "I think it will make a moving tale. I'm afraid, however, I'll have to lay some stress upon the single-handed rescue."

George looked dubious.

"I'd rather you left that out."

"We must impress the matter on people's thoughts, make it command attention; a little diplomacy is allowable now and then," said Hardie, smiling. "Since you don't mind getting yourself into trouble, I don't see why you should object to being held up to admiration, and it's in an excellent cause. Now, however, I'll order breakfast for you, and then you had better get some sleep."

During the afternoon, George set off for home, and he was plowing for the summer fallow a week later when Flora Grant rode up to him.

"I suppose you have got your mail and have seen what the _Sentinel_ says about you?" she asked mischievously.

George looked uncomfortable, but he laughed.

"Yes," he confessed. "It seemed to afford Edgar some amus.e.m.e.nt."

"Who's responsible for that flattering column? It doesn't read like the work of the regular staff."

"I'm afraid that I am, to some extent, though Hardie's the actual culprit. The fact is, he thought the course was necessary."

"Well, I suspected something of the kind; so did my father. It was a wise move, and I think it will have its effect."

George made no comment and she sat silent a moment or two while he watched her with appreciation. She was well-mounted on a beautiful, carefully-groomed horse; the simple skirt and bodice of pale gray emphasized the pure tinting of her face and hands and the warm glow of her hair, in which the fierce sunshine forced up strong coppery gleams.

Her lips formed a patch of crimson, there was a red band on her wide Stetson hat, and her eyes shone a deep blue as she looked down at George, who stood in the sandy furrow leaning against the heavy plow.

He was dressed in old overalls that had faded with dust and sun to the indefinite color of the soil, but they displayed the fine lines of a firmly knit and muscular figure. His face was deeply bronzed, but a glow of sanguine red shone through its duskier coloring. Behind them both ran a broad sweep of stubble, steeped in strong ochre, relieved by brighter lemon hues where the light blazed on it.

"Though I couldn't resist the temptation to tease you, I quite agree with the _Sentinel_," she resumed. "It really was a very gallant rescue, and I suppose you know I recognize my debt to you. I was a little too startled to speak about it when you brought my father home, and you went away so fast."

"The fellows were afraid of being identified; they bolted as soon as they saw me."

"One didn't," Flora pointed out. "A knife-thrust, like the one you avoided, or a pistol-shot would have obviated any risk they ran. But of course you hate to be thanked."

"No," George replied impulsively; "not by you."