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32X

/;)' THE SAME AVrilOR

THE DEVIL'S PLAYGROUND

A STORY Cj^ the WILD NORTH-WEST

Crown 8-'iJ, ClolJi, 6>.

A few brief Extracts from the earliest Reviews.

'J'he Liicrary ll'<>)/(/.--"]t possesses the reality of a tale spoken fiuii! liie life.
. . . The final ijat:i--tii)])he is worked up with ^real iiathos and ener;;y. llie pcii)ile
are all pleasant to meet, and there is a breath ol fresh air through the book refrcsliinj;
to the inhabitant of towns."

77ie IV/ii/cliaii Rc7<icu<. — " We cuni^ratulate the author on his descriptive ii.iwer
and force (;f iriiat,'er\- and iiiiagin.-itiun. . . . Artistically delineated. . . . lv\n:llent
and graphic iiictiire>."

'I'lw Pundi-c Advertiser. — "A novel of notable merit, . . . The scenes arc real-
istically iiainted. . . . 'I'his fascinating novel. . . . lieautifully natural. We lay it
aside with unusual satisfaction, so strong is its interest and so ir.arked its powers. '

The Daily CJtronicle. — '"His descri))lii)n of the hii/zard is so vivid aiul graphic
that it makes one shiver and turn up one's coat collar even as one reads by the lire-
side."

'I'lic Glnsk:,ov< Hernhi. — "Thoroughly acceptable. . . . Mr. Mackie has very
skilfully made use of certain diabolic aspects of n.'iturc in the Wild West as a back-
ground to the luuuan passion with w liich he deals.'

Weekly Times and J'.cho.—" Powerfully written story."

The Sun. — " A most readable story. . . . The characters are very cleverly sketched
and contrasted ; . . . tin; story is one that once begun you cannot leave unfniished.'

The Star, — " By no means a commonplace novel. The characters and the incidents
described are as much out of the usual run as is the title of the book."

(i/nsfi>:o ll'eek/y Citizen. — " It keeps the reader interested from the first page to
the last."

The S/ieaker. — " A delightful story . . . holding the reader breathless from page
to page. '

The Daily A'eivs. — "A charming variation on the familiar theme . . . admirably
described."

IV'orld. — " Handles his fire and his blizzard with a picturesque vigour."

Aberdeen Free Press. — " A. fresh, original, and vigorous writer. . . . The volume
should take its place among the best books of what appears to be an unusually prolific
season. It is vigorously written, and the plot is out of the beaten track . . . should
become deservedly popular.''

The Toronto Mail. — "Described with vividness and truth. . . . All admirably
and truthfully drawn."

The Morning Post. — " Vivid pictures . . . graphic description . . . and a variety
of startling incident. • . . To these attractions must be added those of a well-conceived
plot, and some remarkably good character sketches."

The Daily Telegraph. — "There is both originality and vigour in the develop
nients which arise in the course of the narrative . . . the graphic portrayal of the
natural conditions of Canadian life."

London : T. FISHER UNWIN,

Sinners Twain

^ Eomance of

THE GREAT LONE LAND

JOHN MACKIE

AUTHOR OK "THE DKVIL's PLAYGROUND "

SECOXD EDITION

f
■I

T. FISHER UNWIN

PATERXOSTER SQUARE

'MDCCCXCV

15^992

'<5S>'

owej^/<^ j;

^992

CONTENTS.

CHAP.

I. THE C.IRL AND THK SM icJcr.KR

II. A NORTH-WEST MOUNTKU POLICE PARTY

III. "A CAD OF THE FIRST \VA 1 KR ! " .

IV. "WIIJ, VOU DO AS I WANT VOU ? "

V. HER MANV MOODS • . , . .
VI. HIS DEAD SELF . . .

\TI. AN UNCONSCIOUS PRECEPrOR

VIII. "AX UNCOMMONLY HADLY FROZEN EAR"

IX. WIIAI' A GIRL WILL DO • . . .

X. A 'IERRIi',LE TIME . . , ,
XL "GET ON HER TRAIL, I'lEkRE'"

XII. A PURSL-IT, A CAPTURE, AND A SURPRISE

Xlil. THE PULMAN AND THE SNOW CLAD PRAIRIE

XIV. IN WHICH THE PRECOCIOUS PRIVATE GETS EVEN

WITH J'HE SERGEANL AND THE SCOUT

XV. A UNIQUE ORDERLY-ROOM SCENE
-XVI. SOME LIVES FROM THE RANKS

XVII. OVERHEARD V.Y THE OLD CROW

PACK

26 ,,

98
112
120
138

179

191
205
22 1

^33

She

som

thc(

ticiil

fill

sum

tend

chcc

sout

froir

the j

from

mita

warr

havi:

SINNERS TWAIN,

CIIAITKR I.

THE CilkL AND TIIK SM L'fJd.KF'l.

She was a prairie flower, truly, although there were
some who would have called her a rare exotic. For
the climate of the Canadian Xorth-Wcst is not par-
ticularly conducive to female loveliness : it is health-
ful but tr\-inL^ : the sun's dry passionate kiss in
summer, and the Ice-kini^^'s breath in winter, have a
tendency to rou^c;hen and rob the fairest and softest
cheek of its bloom. But then, perhaps, on this the
south-western slope of the Cypress Hills, just across
from the Sweet Grass Mills in Montana, and towards
the foot-hills of the Rockies, a little more immunity
from such ravages is granted. For here, on the illi-
mitable stretches of coullee-scarred prairie, the soft
warm winds from the Pacific Ocean find their wa\-,
having wandered through the passes of the Rock\-

SINNERS TWAIN.

Mountains, to temper the chill breath of the frozen
North. There is no mystery about these Chinook
winds ; they come from sleeping southern seas where
perpetual summer reigns ; no wonder before their
breath the snow melts like macric. But still the
Red man, in this quarter of the Great Lone Land,
regards them with a superstitious awe. However, it is
only because their influence possibly kept Marie St.
T^enis' complexion — which was as pure and velvety
as the skin of a peach — from withering, that these
Chinook winds are mentioned at all.

She leant against the doorway of the long, ram-
bling log house, with its sod roof, ornamented by in-
numerable elk antlers, and watched her faiher as he
converted a wand of willow into a hoop on which he
meant to stretch the skin of a beaver. 15ut before
we describe the daughter — an excusable tendency —
it would be as well to say a few words about the
father — age before beauty is only justice. He was a
widower, middle-aged, of good ph}-sique, and with a
pleasing expression on his face ; his long hair was,
perhaps, prematurely grc}', and his skin was tanned
b}^ the sun and wind until it was brown as a berry.
His figure was not an unpicturesque one, suggesting,
as it did, that of the old French trapper or voyageur.
He wore an unplucked beaver cap, a buckskin shirt
flowered and fringed, and a pair of high-heeled
cowboy boots of the orthodox pattern. He was
a typical old-timer ; he was hunter, trapper, and

THE GIRL .^ » THE SMUGGLER.

le frozen
Chinook
as where
ore their
still the
le Land,
ever, it is
Jarie St.
1 velvety
lat these

ng, ram-
d by in-
ter as he
which he
it before
idcncy —
bout the
le was a
I with a
air was,
tanned
a berry,
igcsting,
oyafjcur.
vin shirt
h -heeled
He was
:)cr, and

rancher. In fact, like most men in that country
where a picturesque past is fast vanishing, he was
an}'thing that would enable him to earn a few dollars,
and here, perhaps, lay the mischief. For, mark ! these
were the days of Prohibition (only in '92 it ceased
to c-xist) in the Territories, and rumour had it that
Gabriel St. Denis was not above running a cargo of
liquor from across the lines into Canada on an odd
occasion. It was a paying, if a wrong, thing to do ;
besides, there was an indisputable sentiment amongst
many that there was no disgrace in so doing ; indeed,
Gabriel was continually telling himself that what
might be a crime need not necessarily be a sin. The
anti-Prohibitionists said that the laws prohibiting
liquor in the country were made for a time when
there were ten Indians to ever\- white man ; but now
that state of affairs was reversed. Why, they said,
should the white population be saddled with a law
that was meant for Indians, who were now in a
minority? Gabriel did not smuggle liquor for In-
dians, nor }'et retail it. Neither did he introduce
into Her Majesty's Dominion what was often felici-
tously termed "forty-rod," "coffin-varnish," or "tangle-
foot," but s(juntl, wholesome r\-e whiskey. The
countrv^ was crving out against the abuses that the
law engendered ; the Mounted Police, and the very
judges of the land, found it difficult to reconcile their
real sentiments regarding Prohibition, and what was
to them their evident straight course of duty. It

SIXXERS TWAIN.

was wonderful, however, how clastic the interpreta-
tion of the law had become — gutta-percha or india-
rubber was nowhere compared to it. Tiiere is a case
on record when the judge on the bench, while trying
a whiskey-smuggling case, said : " I have known the
accused for a very long time now, and he is a very
decent fellow ; he is not responsible for what his
servants do ; therefore I dismiss the case," or words
to that effect. Then there was an adjournment for
refreshments — of a prohibited nature — in which all
parties interested participated, the judge, the accused,
and the 'Mounted Police themselves. They were all
jolly good fellows, especially the accused. But let us
get back to an infinitely more interesting subject —
the girl.

Marie, as has been said, was watching her father as
he tied the ends of the long willow wand together.
The house was situated just on the edge of a thick
clump of cotton-wood trees, and just where the
coullee ran out into the prairie. It was well shel-
tered from the north, east, and west winds. A creek
flowed feebly past, and there was a large corral and
garden on either side. It was, altogether, a snug and
beautiful little spot. One could appreciate such a
haven when the blizzards were raging, or when, in
the deathly stillness of the long winter nights, the
thermometer registered from lO'-' to 30° below zero ;
when the snow-obliterated creek was a solid-channel
of ice, and when the intense coldness was a deadly,

THE GIRL AXI) TIIK SMUGGLER.

■)

■;

•:

palpable thine;— a thing that caui^ht one's breath
and froze it as it issued from the lijis.

Upon the girl's face there was a strangely ir Msy
look, while her eyes sceined to follow the course of
Many Berries Creek as, fringed and marked with a
straggling growth of tiecs, it zig-zagged and wan-
dered away over the far-stretching and sun-dried
prairie, until it was lost in the misty and uncertain
distance. Then her c\'es rested on the three peaks
of the Sweet Grass Mills that loomed up from their
opaline setting like volcanic islands surrounded by a
vaporous, shipless sea; and, figuratively, in this wild
region they were islands, for between them and
Gabriel St. Denis' house (only a year or two ago)
there was no human life, only, perhaps, a small band
of wandering Blood, Sioux or Piegan Indians on the
hunt, or some less innocent amusement.

She was a truly remarkable looking girl this
daughter of Gabriel's, for there never were two
people who could agree as to the colour of her eyes
or hair. Some said her eyes were hazel, some said
blue, and some said brown. The truth was, they
seemed to change colour with every mood that
showed on her mobile face. There was always a
limpid depth in them, which, with the fresh colour of
her face, and her red lips, indicated a healthful,
buoyant nature. Her hair was, indeed, of that colour
which Georgione and Titian gave to their Venetian
women, "brown in tTie shade, golden in the sun."

SINNERS TWAIN.

Her figure was finely moulded, and, perhaps, the
dead plainness and flowing lines of her neat dress
only showed it to a better advantage. Her shapely,
proud head was well poised upon that beautifully
rounded neck which sculptors love to create — for,
alas, it is so seldom found. But she was, perhaps, a
girl no longer, for she stood on the mystic threshold
of womanhood, and there was that inscrutable look
in her eyes as of one who listens. From her small
hands and feet, to her dimpled, resolute chin and low,
broad forehead, there was no tame or commonplace
feature. Had she lived in London, or Paris, or any
other great city, artists would have discovered her,
have made her famous, and worshipped her ; and
women would have paid her truer homage still, for
they would have said all manner of false and spiteful
things regarding her, and have heartily hated her.
But she was only " that girl of old St. Denis'," who
lived like a recluse some twenty miles distant from
his nearest neighbour on the prairie of the Canadian
North-West. She was an anomaly : like a golden
room in a wooden house. She ought to have been
without a heartache (how^ much after all does a man
know about that complex thing a woman's heart ?) ;
but, as it was, the girl dreamed her dreams, and w^ove
the romances of a coming w^omanhood amid w^iat
seemed such uncongenial surroundings for a bright
young life. Perhaps, that subtle spirit of solitude
which settles down over that great lone prairie land

THE GIRL AND THE SMUGGLER.

been

I man

art ?) ;

i wove

what

bright

oHtudc

e land

with the blood-red sunsets, had tinged her with
somewhat of that pensiveness which occasionally
seemed to haunt her face.

And now Gabriel spoke, in a somewhat embar-
rassed manner it must be confessed ; he did not look-
up at the pretty picture before him, but wound
another piece of string round the joint of the hoop —
a quite unnecessary thing to do — with an apparent
concentration of purpose that was utterly wasted.

*' Oh, by the wa}', little un', I was nigh forgettin' to
tell ye, that I'll be gwin away for a week or ten days
to Benton to git some necess'ries I can't git y'ere. I
s'pose, now, j-e won't mind bein' left alone for thet
time? You've got old Jeannctte, you know, and I'll
fetch \'ou a present from Benton — some of these ycre
books \'c can't git on this side without givin' ever so
much for "

" Oh, Dad ! '

It was almost like the cry of a wounded animal ;
but still she did not withdraw her eyes from the
vague, blue line of the uneven horizon : only, all at
once, the light had gone out of them, and there was
an apprehensive, piteous look there instead. She
had clasped her hands together in front of her in-
voluntarily, and then, as if ashamed at having been
betrayed even into this momentary expression of
feeling, she caught at and plucked nervously the
leaves of some creeping plant that clambered up the
doorwa}' of the house.' It could be easily seen that

SINNERS TWAIN.

jl!:

she felt ashamed and humih'ated by what she had to
say to her father. There was a momentary twitching
of her h'ps, then a droop about the corners of her
mouth ; but she recovered herself in another minute
with a visible effort, and continued —

" Dad, didn't you tell me tliat )'ou would not go
across there any more ? Cannot we live without
your having to go there ? Some day the Mounted
Police will be running acro.^s you as you come back,
and not only take your horses and waggons, but will
fine )'ou besides ever so many hundreds of dollars,
and then what will you have gained in the end?
Oh, Dad," and there was a world of entreaty and
self-deprecation in that soft voice of hers, " it is not
for me to preach to you, but if you only knew how
miserable this thing makes me I don't think you
would do it. Besides, how do you think — though I
don't care so much about myself after all — I can go
into Medicine Hat, and hold up my head, knowing
that ev^erybody is pointing to me and saying, * There

goes Marie St. Denis, the .' " But she only bit

her lips and left unfinished what she had begun.

" There's hardly a soul in the * Hat,' barring the
parsons," interrupted Gabriel, hotly, but somewhat
shamefacedly it must be confessed, ai.d without
lifting his head, " thinks any the worse of a man for
bein' in th' whiskey bizness. No one thinks any-
ihin' about it ; and the jedges ain't so very hard
upon a man for smugglin' now. I believe if there

THE GIRL AND THE SMUGGLER.

had to

itching

of her

minute

not go
without
lounted
le back,
but will
dollars,
le end ?
aty and
it is not
lew how
ink you
hough I
: can go
Knowing
There
only bit
un.

ring the
Dmewhat

without
man for
iks any-
sry hard

if there

was license in the country there'd be less hypocrisy
an' hard drinkin' — it's a foolish law — an injuist law."

" ]iut it's the law," she persisted, " and I can't bear
to see you break it. I am sure we can manage to
live without you doing this thing. My wants are
not many, and they can be made fewer. You need
not take me into Medicine Hat this winter ; and I
have lois of good clothes. You know I can make
lots of moiiey if you will let me. Look at all those
moccasins I have made, and sewed with silk and
bcadwork, and those beaver caps and mitts. There
arc shops in town would only be too glad to get
them, and I could work lots more. I am sure there
is no necessity for you to run any risks for my
sake."

And now there was a pleading, wistful look in her
eyes as she spoke ; there was entreaty in every
delicate feature of her face ; there was a suppressed
pathos in her soft and modulated voice.

As her name denoted, she was of French descent
on her father's side, but her mother had been a Scots-
woman. Perhaps it was to this fact that the girl
owed somewhat of her complex nature, that quick,
sympathetic turn of mind : the lively imagination
and light-heartedness of the French, alongside the
deep-rooted religious instincts and stable, thoughtful
nature of the Scotch. Though Gabriel could talk
French — and Marie, too, for the matter of that —
there was nothing in their speech that would have

SINNERS TWAIN.

led a stranger to suppose so. Gabriel's father, when
the former was a mere child, had left the French
settlements and pushed out West, and circumstances
having thrown the son nearly all his life amongst the
English-speaking population, he had contracted that
nondescript form of speech peculiar to the Western
man and the frontiersman.

Gabriel surreptitiously unloosed the double string
that converted the willow into a hoop, and made a
show of being annoyed as the ends flew asunder.
That he was uneasy, and fighting out a battle within
himself, there could be little doubt. He nerved him-
self, however, and laughed in a hard, brusque way,
very unlike his real self, as he replied —

" * Ough ! Ough ! ' as the Niche says, and what
nonsense is it talking about now, 'bout working
moccasin, fur caps, and mitts, just as if it were a
squaw or a breed, and hevin' to sell them, too. Now,
look 'e y'ere, Marie. I don't 'xactly know what I've
bin doin' to put sich notions in yere head ; I'm sure
you's alius had all the money you's iver wanted to.
In fact, I kin hardly iver git ye to tek any. Why,
my child, instead of bein' a beggar, as ye seem to
think, I've a matter of ten thousan' dollars laid by,
an' only want to mek a little more so's to help us
leave this played-out country — for since the buffalo's
gone I've no more use for it — an' then we'll strike the
trail an' go 'way down south into Uncle Sam's
country, and tek some nice farm where ye'll hev lots

THE GIRL AND THK SMUGGLER.

[jr, when
French
nstanccs
ngst the
:ted that
Western

le string
made a
asunder,
e within
ved him-
^ue way,

tnd what

working

were a

D. Now,

diat I've

I'm sure

inted to.

Why,

seem to

laid by,

help us

buffalo's

strike the

e Sam's

hev lots

o' comp'ny, and won't be boxed up yerc as )'c're now.
I've bin thinkin' of late it's hardly the spryest kin' o'
life for a young gal."

Poor man, it had hardly dawned upon him that she
was now no longer a "young gal." He loved her
with all the silent and conserved force of an un-
demonstrative nature, and, perhaps, love is slow to
observe change. And then, her mother having died
when she was but a child, a d Gabriel having wisely
sent her to the convent at Prince Albert, on the
Saskatchewan, to be educated, he had, doubtless, seen
too little of her. He was a good-hearted man, and
considering the nomadic, frontier life he had led as
trapper and buffalo hunter in the far West, since he
had left his old home in Ontario, and since the death
of his wife, was doubtless an exemplary man as com-
pared with most of his kind. When he had taken his
daughter from the convent of Prince Albert he had
honestly intended to do his duty by his child, and so
he had, according to his own lights. He had taken
her some forty miles south of the Canadian Pacific
Railway, to the south-western slope of the Cypress
Hills, into this lonely but beautiful country, and
started a ranche. But his progress in acquiring what
his heart was set upon, a sufficient sum of money to
take up a good improved farm in one of the settled
and sunny Southern States, was slow ; and then the
temptation to make money easily and quickly pre-
sented itself. It was by running cargoes of liquor

SINXKRS TWAIN.

into Canad.i from across the lines. In other words,
by smugj^ling. 1^'or a long time he resisted the
^'temptation ; but when he found how public senti-
ment ran, and that the law prohibiting liquor was
looked upon by many as an iniquitous one, he
regarded the project with less disfavour. *' He who
doubts is doomed " may apply to various phases of
moral philosophy. " It is all for Marie," he said to
himself; rather illogically, it must be confessed, and
to conciliate his by no means dormant moral sense.
And surely the girl was too young to associate any
very serious breach of morality with such proceed-
ings. His first few ventures were successful, and
paid him well. He began to think, with many in the
North-VVest, that thus to contravene the law was
neither a sin nor a crime. Then, later on, it became
not so much a matter of conscience with him as his
daughter's peace of mind. ; for, of course, he could not
expect to keep such a traffic roncealed from her ; but
up till now she had not seemed to take it so very
seriously. He had acquired wliat to many in that
country was wealth, but he wanted just another five
or six hundred dollars and then he would quit the
trade, and " strike the trail," as he termed it. There
was no other woman within twenty miles of them
save the old French half-breed, Jeannette, who
assisted in the household duties, and, truly, she was
a never-failing source of entertainment. For in the
long winter nights when King Frost held everything

THK GIRL AND THE SMUGGLKR.

words,
cd the
: scnti-
lor was
Dnc, he
Ic who
lascs of

said to
»ed, and
l1 sense,
ate any
proceed -
fill, and
y in the
law was

became
n as his
ould not
her ; but

so very

in that

>ther five

quit the

There

of them
:te, who

she was
Dr in the
/erything

in his deadly grip outside, and the stove hummed
with a cheery sound, many were the wontlcrful
legends and tales told of the days when the old
French voyageurs penetrated far into the heart of
the great Unknown with their canoes ; of the battles
with the Indians ; of the solemn councils ; of the im-
mense herds of buffalo that stretched from horizon
to horizon, and a hundred picturesque features of
the Great Lone Land now fast passing away.
Indeed, Marie was an exemplary daughter, and
never once complained of dulness. The height of
her dissipation was occasionally accompanying her
father into Medicine Hat, or " The Hat," as this
remarkable example in nomenclature was termed,
and to skate with the little crowd on the Saskat-
chewan of an afternoon, or to have a glimpse of those
wonderful cars, which stopped there for half an hour,
on that great world's highway, the Canadian Pacific
Railway, with their wonderfully assorted loads of
human beings. Her wants were few and simple ;
she was content when she saw her father attending to
his more legitimate duties, and looking happy and
contented.

Perhaps Gabriel was troubled with a consciousness
that he had not altogether done his duty by her.
Anyhow, he had never heard her express herself so
strongly as she did now.

" Why, Marie," he ventured at length, and without
looking up, " what has made ye become so perticklar

SINNERS TWAIN.

all of a sudtlin ? I rcmi'mbcrs the time when ye used
to lau^h when ye he'rd of the way we'll ^'ive the p'lice
the slip." Then he continued in a somewhat lower

[| not without a certain twinkh

tone,

*' And p'rhaps some o' th' p'lice themsel's 'er not so
very pcrticUlar as to whether they catch us or not —
surely that sergeant, who comes over now an' agen
from Willow Creek, has not bin putin' eny nonsense
into yer head ? "

To do the man justice, as has been said he only
looked upon her as a child, and did not dream for an
instant that what he said would have the slightest
significance for her. He was tying the end of the
hoop together again, and did not see her face as he
spoke. She had started slightly, and, indeed, her
face had paled for an instant before the warm blood
had mounted into it. Her lips had closed on each
other, and her eyes had looked fixedly away down
the creek bottom as if they were watching the
flight of a covey of prairie chickens. At length she
spoke.

" I hardly understand you, dad, when you talk
about some one putting nonsense into my head.
You forget the sergeant is a gentleman, and it was
not difficult to see that last time he was here he
meant well by you, for, you remember, he mentioned,
as if by accident, something about that extra patrol
along the boundary line which they had begun. It
wasn't difficult to see he felt miserably ill at ease

thct
so
an'
anc

Tllli GIRL AND TIIK SMUUliLKK.

ic only

for an

i^litcst

of the

: as h(

ed, her

1 blood

)n each

y down

ng the

gth she

ou talk
/ head.
1 it was
here he
ntioned,
a patrol
5un. It
at ease

lest wc shculd guess the motives that led him to
sneak of it. l'*or, of course, he meant it as a warning
to you, which few men would have done, otherwise he

wou

Id have told nou in a verv different fashio

As for the corruption — there is only one name for
it — you iiint at, I am sure he is above anything like
that."

And now that maidenly spirit of reserve, as she
.spoke, liad entirely left her ; she held her iiead
almost proudl}', and there was a fuller touch of colour
in her check. There was that air of nobility about
her that glorifies a beautiful woman when she is
championing the absent. Not thjil the ab.sent was
an}'thing to her : for loyalty in a noble-minded
woman is a comprehensive and catholic virtue.

" Yes, Marie," .said Gabriel, who still did not seem
to notice her aroused interest, " I dropped as to how
'c meant it. He's a chap as'll do his duty, an' I gives
him credit for thet same, and I'll give him a wide
berth. Hut there's Jcannette. Now I'se jist a goin*
to run th' hor.ses into th' c'ral, for it'll soon be dark.
I hope it won't snow afore I git back, but it's gettin'
late in the Fall. I must start to-morrow, honey. I
guess I'll be back in Icss'n ten days' time. I'll just
give ye a call on my way back to the Hat and sec
thet ye're all snug. The p'lice were yere on Monday,
so I don' s'pose they'll be back for 'nother fortnight,
an' by thet time I'll be yere agcn. Come, Marie,"
and, suddenly throwing away the hoop, he put his

SINNERS TWAIN.

arm round her and drew her into the house. Then
he reappeared with his bridle over his arm to fetch
the horses up. He had been anxious to put an end
to the conversation ; it was a much more unpleasant
one for him than he had cared to admit.

And now the profound and solemn stillness that
broods over that vast and lonely rolling prairie seemed
to deepen. The prairie chickens and other birds had
drunk at the feebly flowing creek, and had gone back
to the sheltering edge of the scrub for the night.
The great cinnamon bear which at this season of the
year leaves the sheltering pine forests, and wanders
down the coullce and creek bottoms to fossick out
roots, and feast on the luscious wild berries, rose from
his lair amid the thick, long grass and thicker under-
growth, and came boldly out on to the bare hillside
to have a look around. A keen black frost set in ;
one could hear the crackle of the growing covering of
ice on the beaver dam, and the more startling rending
of the dead cotton-v/ood trees up the coullee as Jack
Frost squeezed ♦hem in his icy grip. The stars
gleamed out more sharply and clearly in the dusk of
the heavens, and towards the Arctic circle the Aurora-
Borealis, that " Dance of the Spirits " as the Indians
call it, suddenly burst into life and light, its quivering
shafts of pearly and silvery fire darting from one side
to another, crossing and recrossing : creating a living
halo and glory around the throne of the great Ice-
king. Now the log house and other buildings

THE GIRL AND THE SMUGGLER. 25

showed black as jet against it. From the little
uncurtained windows poured mellow streams of
light into the cold, crisp air, and showed right
cheerily indeed. It was a cozy and pretty picture
truly, this tiny speck of civilisation in the lonely
wilderness, when these unwinking eyes of fire looked
out boldly into the gloom, as if rejoicing over the
fuller life within.

CHAPTER II.

A NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE TARTY,

Ten days after the conversation narrated in the
preceding chapter, and about a couple of miles or so
above St. Denis' ranche, up the coullee, four men are
grouped together under a peculiarly formed water -
worn cliff of yellow sandstone. Tiiey are seated in
what was once the bed of the creek. But that prince
of engineers, the beaver, had constructed a large dam
just above them, and diverted the course of the stream.
In Canada, beavers sometimes convert meadows into
lakes, swamp homesteads, change the course of all-
important creeks, and it is no uncommon sight to
see a bridge left high and dry, like some stranded
leviathan, rendered quite unnecessary by these arch
practical jokers.

The most important individual in the party referred
to, not only in his own eyes, but by virtue of rank,
was a commissioned officer of Mounted Police. His
eyes were dark, and his whole facial expression might
be summed up in three words — red, round, and vulgar.

A NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE PARTY. 27

"V.

in the
2s or so
ncn are

water -
jated in
: prince
nre dam
stream.
)vvs into

of all-
■light to
tranded
:se arch

referred
of rank,
ce. His
»n might
i vulgar.

Indeed, he enjoyed the sobriquet of " rudding-facc
Jamie," from the .supposed resemblance of the facial
features aforesaid to that popular but home!}' article
of diet. lie had at one time been a private holding
some subordinate " staff job" in the force, but, having
the necessary influence at his back, had secured a
commission. Those of his old chums in the force,
who had expected that when Jamie became an officer
he would at least have some consideration for his old
comrades, were grievously disappointed ; for, true to
the old adage regarding the putting of a beggar on
horseback, when he tasted power he rode rough-shod
over the unfortunates under him. Fortunateh', most
of his brother officers (the exception being those
drawn from his own substratum of society) were
gentlemen by birth and education, splendid all-round,
good-hearted fellows as one could wish to meet, so
they, providentially, kept such characters as Jamie in
check, and saved many a gently-nurtured youth from
a martyrdom of petty but galling annoyances. For
in the Mounted Police a few years ago, a very large
percentage of the men belonging to the rank and
file were gentlemen. Of course Jamie resented the
presence of gentlemen : they offered too great a
contrast to his own condition — a condition which not
even a gold crown on the collar of his serge, and
goodness knows how many yards of gold lace besides,
could ever ameliorate. This was where the shoe
pinched with Jamie. No wonder that the milk of

SINNERS TWAIN.

human kindness was somewhat soured in his com-
position. The three others present were a police
sergeant, a private, and a French quarter-breed scout
named Pierre, a short, stout, dark-eyed and pleasant-
looking individual upon the whole. He had a weak-
ness for saying what were meant to be funny things,
while at the same time his face bore a look of preter-
natural gravity. But just then the fact of Jamie
having only informed him that he would recommend
the Commissioner to discharge him on the completion
of the trip, had somewhat damped Pierre's natural
cheerfulness. The sergeant was a smart, dark, hand-
some-looking fellow, and like many more in his
position seemed born for better things. Even now
altliough his face was unshaven, although the stump
of an old briar pipe protruded from between his lips,
and his seedy old buffalo coat was buttoned up to his
chin, one could see at a glance that Harry Yorke was
a gentleman. The fourth man of the party seemed
rather a young individual to be a policeman. He was
the son of a younger son — some army officer with a
large family and limited means who was only too
glad to get one of his boys disposed of, even if it were
in the ranks of the North-West Mounted Police ; for
then the youth would be self-supporting and would
give no further trouble. As it was, Dick Townley,
like many more young men in a like position, found
the life was not exactly a bed of roses — when, for
instance, an officer like Jamie ordered him while in

A NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE PARTY. 29

the post to gather bones in a gunny-sack, round the
liarrack Square, which had been deposited there by
other people's dogs, or remove the refuse in the
spring from behind the officers' quarters, in close
proximity to an Indian who was ornamented with a
ball and chain attached to one leg. Doubtless, so far
as the Indian was concerned, the punishment was not
undeserved, for he had, probably, got six months for
appropriating another Indian's squaw, and breaking
the former's head when politely remonstrated with.
As for the unfortunate private — well, somebody had
to do the scavenger's work. It was not, perhaps, then
to be wondered at that his speech partook of a certain
cynical and sarcastic tone when the conversation
referred to his superior officer. Indeed, it might be
almost said to savour of disloyalty ; but then, in the
often circumscribed and lonely lii^ of the trooper,
there were things said, done, and tolerated, that
would not have been dreamt of under different
conditions. In the ranks of the Mounted Police,
partly on account of that subtle affinity of class,
and conscious necessity of mutual help and en-
couragement in a life which is to a certain extent
one of exile, there was a healthful spirit oi camaraderie,
the like of which, perhaps, does not exist in any
other force of the kind in the world. Between the
non-commissioned officers and privates there was a
mutual understanding^ and good feeling, that made
the duties of the former comparatively easy and

SINNERS TWAIN.

pleasant. Perhaps it was this spirit that made the
sergeant tolerant and take no notice of his junior's
many colloquial divergencies.

There were six saddle and pack horses, hard by, in
a little clump of bushes. Only a few bleached or
blackened leaves clung in a forlorn looking fashion,
like tattered signals of distress, to the great gaunt
trees and the dense undergrowth. On three sides
they were so hemmed in by trees that they could
hardly see the opposite bank of the coullee, although,
straight across, it could hardly be more than a couple
of hundred yards o»' so. It was bitterly cold, and the
party sat moodily, muffled up in their buffalo coats ;
their saddles and gear were lying about. They had
made a fire, over which they hung, and its effect was
cheerful enough despite the dispiriting social atmo-
sphere just then. The wood they burned was old, and
of such a nature that the little smoke from it could
hardly attract attention. And now the sky had
become overcast, and they knew that high above
heads, up on the " bench," or plateau, a light breeze
had sprung up. At last the scout spoke, the volatile
little man could contain himself no longer, even
although he had just as good as " got the sack."

'^ Parbleii !" he exclaimed. "It is not surprised I
should be if we were going to have just a leetle snow-
storm. Generally it is we have one before this time
of the year. A-ha, mon cher Richard, and how it is
you will love the entertainment of a snow blanket ? "

A NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE PARTY. 31

" Why, my well-beloved Sancho," answered the
vouthful private addressed, " that is a most delightful
contingency to contemplate. It reminds me of .1
legend somewhere, an Indian eda, a Grecian myth,
a Scandinavian saga, or something of that sort" —
here he glanced furtively at his superior officer — " or
is it taken from * The Pilgrim's Progress ' or * Robin-
son Crusoe'? No matter; but it is .^jout two small
children who, persecuted by a wicked uncle, were lost
in a great wood, and the robins, and moas, tom-tits
and dodos came and covered them up with leaves.
Now, Pierre, I think you would make a most beautiful
and interesting babe all covered up with leaves, or
saddle-blankets, or supposing this cliff were suddenly
to cave in — with rocks."

" Eh ! what saire ? " exclaimed the little scout with
a merry twinkle in his eye at this stage of the extra-
vaganza. He had not exactly followed it, but he
knew that the private was trying to make fun of him.

" By the jumping Gewhitaker ! " broke in the
bearer of the Queen's commission who had been
silently wondering if what the private had been
talking about were really some " classical stuff"," or
nonsense specially concocted to annoy him. " I wish
you two fools would hold your tongues. Get both of
you away up to the bench, and come back and tell
me what you see there — take the field-glasses with
you."

" Very good, sir," said the trooper, picking up the

SINNERS TWAIN.

glasses which Jamie had indicated by glancing one of
his bilging eyes in their direction, and moving oP".
But the little scout still lingered with an inquiring
expression on his face.

"Well, what in the devil's name are you waiting
for now, eh ? " inquired Jamie. " Sergeant, I call
you to witness this fellow's rank insubordination."
Jamie was almost cheerful now, for he never felt so
happy as when putting a charge for some breach of
discipline against a newly-made corporal, or bad-
gering some willing but not over quick-witted
constable.

"Please, saire, shall I my horse take?" inquired
the scout, with a look of preternatural gravity on his
face, and as an interpretation of his conduct.

" No, you fool ; take these drum-stick legs of yours.
You grow stupider every day, Pierre."

Pierre smiled pleasantly as he turned his back, as
if he had just been complimented. And so he had —
when he could make Jamie believe that he was
growing stupider.

In a few minutes the pair were back in camp again.

"Well?" inquired the Amiable One before either
of them had time to speak. " Have both of you lost
your tongues } "

The scout, unseen to the officer, stuck his into his
left cheek so that the constable might see it, and
answered —

" There is nothing, saire, to be seen. But I think

A NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE PARTY.

\vc will have a snow-storm, and it is snowcd-in wc arc
liable to be, if we remain here."

*' And who in the name of all that's wonderful "
(only he put it a little more forcibly) " told you that
we were going to remain here ? " asked Jamie, grimly
rejoicing in the opportunity afforded of making
things lively generally. " Darn you, Pierre ! I wish
you would give a straightforward answer to a straight-
forward question. I don't want you to make sugges-
tions ; you are not paid for that. It is not necessary
for you to point out anything. Sergeant, you and
Townley get a rustle on, and saddle up the horses ;
we'll make for shelter."

And now a few flakes of snow began to fall, un-
decidedly and reluctantly. Then they came down
faster and faster, as if at last they saw there was no
help for it and might as well do the business with
credit to themselves when they were at it. In a few
minutes more, something like a blizzard had deve-
loped with all the suddenness which dwellers in these
latitudes have at times experienced.

But before this, happened the sergeant and the
private had gone off to fetch up the horses ; the
scout had picked up a heavy Mexican bridle, and,
with a significant light in his protruding eyes, ad-
dressed the officer. The latter, when he had seen
that the scout was about to address him, had pre-
luded the communication with, " Well, what are you
going to interfere with now ? "

SINNERS TWAIN.

Slowly, deliberately, and with evident unction,
Pierre spoke.

" Saire, I do not wish to interfere or to point out
anything, but I would respectfully suggest that the
pair of spare beaver mitts belonging to you and lying
on that burning log be removed. Already they are
en par tic consumed — I hope you will pardon me for
pointing out "

He was not allowed to finish the sentence, for the
officer sprang forward with an oath and rescued the
mitts from further destruction. To do the scout
justice, he had not observed the smouldering mitts
until it was too late to save them. And now Jamie
had something tangible to work upon to gratify his
passion for fault-finding, and he let loose on the head
of the scout a torrent of abuse that would have done
credit to a gamin from tne slums of Whitechapcl,or a
Queensland bullock-driver. But Pierre paid no heed,
and consoled himself with the thought that a new
pair of mitts would cost Jamie at least three dollars,
and that would go pretty near to breaking his
heart.

And now they were ready for a start.
'' Where to, sir? " inquired the sergeant.
" Why, to old St. Denis', to be sure I Where else ? "
asked the officer, impatiently.

" Well, sir, it's only a matter of ten miles if we
make over to Willow Creek through Wild-cat coullee,
and we can intercept St. Denis' party just as easily

A NOKTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE I'ARTY. 35

from there. If wc go to his house \vc may miss him
altogether."

"No, I guess we will go and stop at old St. Denis'
until that gentleman comes back," said the Amiable
One, as Dick Townley, the private, in a spirit of mild
irony, had dubbed him.

Now, if the sergeant had only exercised a little
forethought, and had proposed to go to St. Denis'
in the first place, his superior officer would have
promptly vetoed it, and have ordered him to proceed
somewhere else. The Scriptures characterise such a
spirit as " stiff-neckedness," but in the States they
have improved upon the expression, and call it
" pure cussedness." Jamie continued, after a brief
pause —

" Besides, Gabriel's sure to look in just to see how
that rather smartish girl of his is getting on, on his
way to the Hat ; and then we can nab him and the y
liquor too — savey ? "

The sergeant looked at his superior with not a
little ill-concealed disgust upon his face as he re-
plied —

" But excuse me, sir ; he's not likely to fetch the
liquor there ; and you forget that there are only two
women left at St. Denis', and in a small place like
that there's hardly room for us. I don't see that we
have any right to take possession of a man's house
because he happens to.be away, even although he is
suspected of smuggling — more especially when he has

SINNllRS TWAIN.

only left two defenceless women to protect it. Of
course, if you intend jifoing into some outhouse' it
won't matter so much."

" Outhouse, be d d ! " exclaimed Jamie, im^

patiently, and with a look of superior wisdom. *' I
say, Yorke, you've got to see a little more of life
and the world yet before jou can get along in this
country."

A wise man, if ho has not travelled, is as worthy
of respect as the thoughtful man who has, in that he
realises his own littleness and paves the way to know-
ledge. But a fool is like a fat donkey that ventures
upon thin ice : he courts extinction by the weight of
his own ignorance.

The sergeant had turned quickly when Jamie
spoke, and looked full in the face of his superior
officer with not a little surprise, then considerable
amusement. As he went slowly on without making
any reply, a pitying smile crossed his features as he
ejaculated under his breath, " Poo. ,!evil ! "

" Harry," said the private, to his older comrade the
sergeant, as the scout and Jamie headed down the
coullce, and with a look of mock gravity on his face,
"don't you wish you had seen as much life as the
Amiable One ? "

" Come, now," answered the sergeant, " none of
your treasonable remarks — let's talk of something
else. By Jove, though, I can't help wishing that old
fool St. Denis had stayed at home ! If it weren't for

A NORTH-WEST MOUNTED I'OLICE PARTY. 2,7

that poor girl of Iiis, I'd say serve him x'v^\\i to get
cauj;ht--ancl ten chances to one we'll nab him this
time. It's a shame of him to ruin her life like this
— and she is such a superior sort of j^irl ; I think
her mother must have been a decided cut above the
common run of them, though old Gabriel's not such
an unpresentable looking old fellow himself. And
by the way, Dick, I don't suppose you've seen her
yet. It won't do, you know, to get soft upon her."

" Ah ! I see — soft yourself, eh ? " said Dick, dis-
respectfully.

"Well, not quite," was the answer, in a tone that
(lid not exactly reassure the youngster, and still less
invited fuither discussion of the subject.

CHAPTER III.

" A CAD OF THE FIRST WATER ! "

She stood outside the house, bareheaded, and looked
towards the sky, while her hands were outstretched in
front of her, palms upward. The light breeze caught
up the silky wealth of gleaming hair that had escaped
from its heavy folds for the time being, until it
streamed in mid-air behind her like a shimmering
shaft of golden light : it kissed and heightened the
delicate colour on her cheek. A few feathery flakes
of snow melted away as they fell upon her firm white
palms : even if they had been animate things, per-
haps, they would have been quite content to pass
away there. There was a look of concern upon
Marie St. Denis' face as she looked all around before
going into the house again.

" Jeannette," she said to an elderly and tidy-looking
French half-breed woman, " I believe we are going to
have a storm. Oh, I hope dad is in some safe place !
It makes me ill to think of him being on the prairie,
and perhaps a bad blizzard coming on."

r I

"A CAD OF THE FIRST WATER!"

"He'll be all rl^ht, 7;ia cJicric ; fret not yourself,"
said old Jeannctte, cheerily. But she said under her
breath all the same, " and serve him right for going,
the wicked man ! "

It was a long, low room, and scrupulously clean.
To use a rather absurd but popular saying, " you
might have eaten your dinner off the floor " (just as if
there was any necessity for any one to perpetrate such
an inconvenient and barbarous deed !), so beautifully
clean and fresh it was. There were some humble
and not unsuccessful attempts at adornment in this
room. For into each of the windows were fitted
little boxes, in which still bloomed some hardy plants.
There was an absence of all cheap or gaudy ornamen-
tation, which is so often found in the houses of those
whose love of show is paramount to their love of the
briutiful. But there were some unique and not
unbeautiful specimens of wrought Indian bead-work
hung against the wall that made one think of the
time when interiors were hung with tapestry. One
end of the room was sacred to the burnished and
well-kept culinary articles of Jeannette. Here and
there against the walls, mounted fan-shape, were
white owls with their feathers like great ruffle-'
surrounding their beautiful heads ; and eagle-hawks,
fierce and picturesque, mounted in a like fashion.
They were a species of ornamentation tiiat any
drawing-room in Belgravia might have been proud of.

Unconsciously in keeping with a prevailing fashion

SINNERS TWAIN.

stood a small triangular glass-fronted cupboard, with
some wonderful old china in it, in one corner of the
room. That china had belonged to the girl's mother
and grandmother, and was a sacred thing. There
was a pair of brass- mounted, flint-lock pistols crossed
over a quaint, narrow, and high mirror, and beautiful
stone Indian tomahawks and pipes, whose helves and
stems were a rich mosaic of coloured beads and from
which dangled eagles' feathers. Crossed over this
doorway was a pair of snowshoes, and over that one,
in the centre, was a magnificent elk's head, whose
antlers touched the ceiling. And there were two
tiny models of birch-bark canoes, and Indian rowers
in them with paddles poised in air. On a small table
at the far end of the room there was a unique grass-
like woven cloth that was made beautiful and striking
by having a fantastic pattern wrought on it in
coloured silks and beads, and heavily fringed. The
yellow and red colours which the Crees affect pre-
dominated in it. Strange it is to think — and few
there are, perhaps, who know it — that the Crees got
these colours from the Mexicans, when the former
were a bold and warlike race — when their territory
lay far to the south, and ere they were driven
gradually backwards i^/ younger and stronger races.
Though there was a certain air of barbaric splendour
about that cloth, still the effect of the whole room
was in keeping with, and characteristic of, those
romantic and picturesque elements of a past now

i. -f

open,
room.

*' A CAD OF THE FIRST WATER

t '»

vanishing before a more prosaic nineteenth-century
utilitarianism. There was, indeed, really good taste
displayed in the arrangement of every detail in that
room. Not even the conventional cooking and box-
stove and lengths of piping could detract from the
quaintness of that old-world interior, for they were
blackened and polished till they reflected one's image
like a mirror.

Then the girl put an iron on the stove, and looked
at a little heap of collars and cuffs which lay upon the
dresser ready to bo operated upon.

" Sit down, Jeannette," she said, " and tell me a
story while I iron these things— something about the
old French voyageurs, or about the early days of
Fort Garry before Riel came to make the metis
dissatisfied."

Just at this moment a great wiry-haired dog, some-
thing between a Scotch staghound and a sheep-dog,
lifted its head and grov led ominously. It had been
lying half asleep in front of the stove. The girl
started significantly and placed one finger against her
lower lip. The half-breed woman put her head on
one side and listened intently. Then they heard the
dull, uneven thud of horses' feet, and da-'k shadows,
as it were, passed and momentarily darkened the
front windows. In another minute there was a loud,
irregular knocking at the door ; then it was thrown
open, and a great fur-clad figure stumbled into the
room, powdered with snow.

SINNERS TWAIN.

" What a devil of a day ! " it exclaimed.

It is perhaps unnecessary to say this was the
gentleman, already referred to, who had the honour
of bearing Her Majesty's commission.

In another second another figure entered, but it
came' no farther than the door, and closed it so as
to shut out the drifting snow. This figure was the
sergeant, who did not speak, but, indeed, seemed
somewhat embarrassed.

The girl still stood as if transfixed with astonish-
ment at this sudden entry, or as if these uninvited
guests hailed from another world, instead of being
only matter-of-fact Mounted Policemen. But, surely,
it was something more than mere astonishment that
paled her cheek, and for a second made her lean
against the dresser as if for support. Who can tell
what thoughts passed through that poor girl's mind
just then ? It was not difficult to speculate upon one
all-powerful vision that rose up before her, and that
was her father. Into her expressive, wide-open eyes
there came a look of startled apprehension, and then
the consciousness of some dreaded presence, which
was pitiful to look upon in one so young. But the
gallant leader of the party called back the colour into
her cheeks. The inspector was a married man, but
he possessed ?. way with hit" which he considered
was all-potent with the fair sex. Perhaps it had been
potent to a certain extent — in that sphere which he
adorned.

"A CAD OF THE FIRST WATER

I '»

" Now then, Mary Ann," he said, " you don't look
as if you were glad to see me as I know you are.
Just get a rustic on like a dear, and shove another log
into that stove and — damn it ! take that big, ugly
brute away for goodness sake ! "
.^ The great hound was growling and sniffing in
a suspicious fashion in the neighbourhood of the
officer's ankles, occasioning that gentleman no little
concern.

" Sh — h — get away, Michelle ! Lie down, sirre ! "
cried Jeannette, catching up a billet of wood and
chasing the hound from the visitors, much to Jamie's
satisfaction.

And now the claim of strangers to the rites of
hospitality had dawned upon the startled girl ; and
as if she had not heard the officer's free and easy
speech, she said —

" Won't you '^it down ? you must be cold," and she
placed chairs for them near the stove, and was hand-
ling a fresh log to put in the box-stove, when the
sergeant came quickly towards her.

" Allow me, Miss St. Denis," he said.

At the same moment he had drawn off his mitts,
and seized the log of wood she had lifted, in both
hands. In doing this his hand accidentally touched
hers ; she looked up at him suddenly, and the colour
on her cheek deepened not a little. " How cold
your hands are," she remarked ; " their touch quite
startled me : they are like lead." But she let him

SINNERS TWAIN.

take the log ; and, perhaps, he did not know that
this simple, common place act of politeness, which
with some would have passed as a matter of course,
was recognised gratefully by her as a deference she
felt was only her due, even if she were only Gabriel
St. Denis' daughter.

" Have you put your horses in the stable ? " Marie
asked, turning to the sergeant. " There are four or
five spare stalls, you know, and lots of hay."

It was significant that she did not address herself
to the officer. But Jamie resented this. He must
show this untutored child of the prairie that he was
in command of the party.

" Don't fret, my dear," he remarked, with an
assumption of graceful facetiousness ; " my men
know how to make themselves at home. You
press the button — I mean, you find the hay, and
we do the rest.''

Marie looked at him wonderingly for an instant.
She did not know whether to put this man's strange
speech down to his ignorance of the common civili-
ties of every-day life, or to a chronic crudeness, or
rudeness of manner. She only slightly bit her lip,
and made no comment. She would be charitable,
and ascribe his familiarity to the former hypothesis :
it would not do to neglect the sacred rites of hospi-
tality, even if — and here her heart sank within her at
the thought.

In another minute the private and the scout had

"A CAD OF THE FIRST WATER!"

come into the room. At last, Jamie asked abruptly —

" When do you expect the old man back ? "

The sergeant turned uneasily in his chair, when he
saw the look of wistful entreaty and pain upon the
girl's face on hearing this blunt question.

" If you mean my father," she answered, " I am not
in a position to tell you. Do you wish particularly
to see him ? "

" Yup— yaas, I just reckon we want to — to h* ve an
opportunity of interviewing him," answered Jamie in
his happiest manner. He was under the impression
that his humour was of a light and graceful kind, and
he looked into the faces of the others to mark the
signs of appreciation of these qualities. But he was
nettled at discovering only a stolid imperturbability
in them. Had his perceptive faculties not been so
dulled by conceit, he might possibly have detected
a look of unqualified disgust and shame there instead

" Now, look here, my dear," he continued, " it's no
use of you trying this innocent sort of dodge on with
me. We want to see the old man, and I guess we'll
see him, s'posin' we've got to wait in this 'ere house
for a fortnight "

" Sir ! " interrupted the girl suddenly, and turning
her great clear eyes full upon him, with almost an
incredulous look in them.

The sergeant coughed and shifted uneasily in his
seat. The constable, kicked the heel of the scout
surreptitiously with his out-stretched foot ; and the

^y^

•/

SINNERS TWAIN.

latter seemed to find something that interested him
immensely in a pair of snovvshoes which were
crossed on the wall over the dresser. The half-
breed woman paused in the performance of some
work, folded her arms, and looked at the officer with
brows that knitted like gathering storms. But Jamie
saw none of these signs and continued —

" You don't seem to understand, my dear; a pretty
girl like you "

But he had overstepped the mark this time. The
warm blood mounted into the girl's face : she held
her head erect, and looked at him unflinchingly as
she interrupted —

" Sir, by what right do you insult two defenceless
women ? "

The sergeant's breath came and went in quick
gasps. Could he risk calling his superior officer
to a sense of what was proper, and rely on Townley,
the private, and the scout becoming temporarily
deaf? For he knew if he spoke it meant a serious
charge of insurbordination against him. But the
officer himself released his subordinate from his diffi-
rulty, and brought about his own undoing. He
stared blankly at her for a moment, as if he had not
rightly heard ; then, realising that his authority — a
high and mighty officer's of the North-Wcst Mounted
Police — had been called in question by a frail girl,
his round moon-like face became flushed and purple
— the change was inconsiderable from its normal

mii'

ii II

*'A CAD OF THE FIRST WATER!"

one — as he blurted out in a tone meant to impress
the entire party, and overawe this spirited girl in
particular —

" Girl, do you know who and what I am ? "

"You have just enlightened us on these points,"
she answered, in a strangely quiet and subdued
manner, ** for your actions and a certain reputation
are identical."

" Eh — what ? " he asked uneasily ; he had not
exactly followed her, but he thought his manner
had evidently impressed this wayward girl. " Who
and what am I, then ? "

" An officer of the North-West Mounted Police,"
she replied calmly, " and a cad of the first water ! "

As Pierre (who chuckled to himself for nearly two
hours after this speech) said to Dick Townley that
night, the girl was, indeed, " a chip of the old block."

CI I AFTER IV.

WILL VOU IK) AS I WANr VOl' ?

Tmk scrcroant rose to his feet : he could not sit bv
any lonL;er and i>e an impassive witness of such a
scene. To saj- that he felt heartlK' ashamed at this

Mit of the cloth he

id for th(

;11-

momeni oi mc ciom iic wore, ana lo

merited rebuke just accorded it by this beautiful and

indii^nant i^irl, were puttini^ it mildly.

Jamie sat speechless, witli his dark e)-es fairly
buli^ini^ out of his head. That a mere slip of a girl
should have the audacity to openlj^ insult him — of
course there was no question of insult in so far as his
conduct in relation to her was concerned — an officer
and a gentleman — oh, of course, a gentleman — and
before his subordinates, too — was a thing so un-
paralleled in Inspector Jamie Bounder's vast ex-
perience (in the Great Lone Land), that it left him
literally incapable of thought or action. To use one
of his own beautiful and choice expressions, he wa«
" tee-totally flabergasted " for the moment. The

V)rivate had risen with the sergeant, and made for

"WILL VOU DO AS I WAN' VOU?'

llu" door. Hut tlu" cotidiK t of the litiic sroiit was
most rcinarkaldc, for, on risim;, lu* had, ( iirioiisly
ciioiii^h, kicked liis liat into a ( omer of the room, and
a|)|)eared to have (•onsideial)le (lifficiilty in pickiri^ it
up a;.'.ain. lie reminded ono of an ostrich with its
licad stuck in a hole, and its hu^a: body j^ravitatin^
aimlessly round it. He -I'icrrc: — however, snorted in
a most pecuUar and suspicious fashion.

Hut it was the oM half-breed woman who took
advantaj^u; of tlic situatif)n to interfere on behalf of
her )()un^ mistress, and put a check to the un-
called-for imi)crtinences of the f^allant officpr. Iler
dark face became sallow ; her black, sharp eyes
sjjarkled ominously ; her hi^di, (piaverinj^ voice
betrayed her excitable (iallic orij^nn as she faced
the somewhat surprised officiir, and cried, with a
determined stamp of her foot —

" You shall not ; I say you shall not, no matter
what you arc, sit here and insult my young mistress.
If you cannot see you are an unwelcome cmivic in
this room, you must be asked to relieve us of your
))resence, and get out of it ! We cannot * r this
storm ask you to leave the house, but there is one
large room you can have, it is to the right of the
passage as you come in, with a stove in it. You will
be good enough to remain in it while you have to
stop here. You are evidently not accustomed to the
society of women. Therefore, as long as you are in
this house, do not dare to enter this room again.

ShNNERS TWAIN.

You sec this saucepan of water on the fire? It will
boil ill a few seconds ; it shall remain there, and
I swear by the lUAy Virgin, over your face I will
throw it, if you as much as show your nose round the
corner of that door. These j;entlemen who are with
you may occasionally come in if they want to — but

you — git! "and she literally brought her teeth

together with a snap as she pronounced these words
and pointed to the door.

" You demmed she-cat ! " exclaimed Jamie, sorely
ama/ed and taken aback.

It was a bad break. Jeannette snatched up a
billet of wood from a heap alongside the stove (the
Indian blood was showing now in addition to the
Gallic), and in another second he would most
assuredly have stopped it, in its projected career, with
his head had not he ducked that turnip-like growth
with a smartness that did him credit, and made a
bolt for the door. Once in the little passage he
found the other room, where Dick Townley and the
scout at once set to work to make a good fire in the
stove. It was a large, comfortable room, with a bed
in a recess — indeed, it was Gabriel St. Denis' own
room, and was as quaintly furnished as the kitchen.
Only on a species of stand stood the mounted head
of that now, alas ! extinct monarch of the prairies,
the great American bison. It was a truly grand
specimen ; there was an air of might and majesty in
that picturesque, shaggy, fierce front. Jamie took a

ILL YOU UO AS 1 WANT V«)U?'

i sc.it moodily near tlic sto\c, and awaited an oppor-

tuin'ty of venting his superfluous sp'ecn on the i)rivatc
or the scout.

In the meantime the sergeant had ^one back into
the kitchen, and shut the door gently beliind him
lie held his hat m his hands — Jamie had never
rjmoved his — and as he stood before the two women
there was a look of unmistakable pain and humilia-
tion upon his face. The girl had gone back to the
dresser, and had mechanically taken up her iron,
but, somehow, she did not seem as if she cared to
meet the eyes of the sergeant. And now the latter
spoke.

" I cannot tell you how ashamed and sorry I am,"
he began, apologetically, in rather an unsteady voice,
" at the annoyance you have been subjected to. The
fact of the matter is, the insi)ector is hardly himself
to-day, he was subjected to some slight annoyance
before we came here."

And now the girl stopped her ironing and looked
full upon the face of the dark, handsome-featured
trooper. Why should he lie for such a brute ? -vy

" Docs your force produce many such specimens ? "
she inquired, with all traces of her former annoyance
gone, but with a touch of irony in her voice.

*' Only one or two, thank goodness ; but they do all
the mischief," was the reply. " It is not an edif\ing
subject to talk about such men, or how they come to
get commissions in the force. There are, however.

SINNERS TWAIN.

:i 1

many officers who, if they had heard the inspector
talk a> he did a few minutes ago, would have knocked
him down ; I am certain of that. It may be pre-
sumption on my part, but I sa)' this for the sake of
many of his brother officers whom I admire and
respect as men and gentlemen. Anyhow, on behalf
of my comrades of the rank and file, I should like to
express my sense of shame and indignation at the
insult which you were subjected to. It is very good
of you to offer us even the next room to stay in, but
you have only to say the word, and I can take it
upon myself to promise that we shall quit it also."

" There is no occasion to do that," she said, her
innate goodnrss of heart struggling with another
motive.

She took a linen cuff from off the heap beside her,
and spread it on the dresser. How beautifully
rounded and symmetrical her arm was as she poised
the hot iron, and how firm and delicately finished her
small hand. He thought of the many fine ladies he
had known in his time who would have been jealous
could they but have seen such hands. He looked at
that sweet, fair face, in which the light of truth shone,
and he, who had in an erratic, stirring career seen all
sorts and conditions of women — he who had ex-
perienced many strange phases of life, felt his heart
go out to this girl with a great pity, which was only
accentuated by a sense of his own helplessness to aid
her.

i I

"WILL YOU DO AS I WANT YOU?"

I .

There was a siLjnificant pause, only broken by the
sh'ght clickiiif^ noise of the iron as it travelled over
the snowy cuff and the swathed board. Then old
Jeannette, who knew and looked with a favourable
eye upon the scr<^eant, being somewhat mollified by
the humble and deferential tone he adopted, opened
a door at the dw end of the room, and went into
another to perform, to her, some never-ending domes-
tic duties.

Then the sergeant. Marry Yorkc, said somewhat
awkwardly —

"I have brought you these books. Miss St. Denis; I
told you of them last time I was here. I was not sure
that we should call upon you, but put them in my
wallets in case."

Many a time had this man, when in a different
station of life, given some lady of the great, gay
world a much more significant token of regard with-
out as much as the faintest suspicion of embarrass-
ment, but now he felt like a schoolboy talking to a
debutante^ or a bashful lover who is saying his first
sweet thing.

'* It is very good of you to have remembered the
books," she remarked, simply, but rewarding him with
a pleasant look. Then that odd, apprehensive ex-
pression, which like a shadow he had seen flit across
her face when they had first entered, once more
crossed it. As if she had nerved herself to say
something she had been pondering o>'er, she again

1 1

SINNERS TWAIN.

turned as if to face hiin, and, looking him steadily in
the eyes, asl<ed —

" Are you going to wait here till my father comes
back ? "

He seemed ill at ease and distressed in a most
unaccountable manner, this happy-go-lucky trooper.
Indeed, he looked like an awkward, hulking school-
boy in the presence of the head-master, who gazes
with a sinister aspect upon the spectacle of conscious
guilt. He tried to look away from her, but he could
not. There was evidently a struggle of some sort
going on within him ; of natural inclination and a
sense of duty. And now these all-compelling eyes of
hers seemed to have exercised their potency, for
when he spoke it was as she had willed, the plain and
bitter truth.

*' I cannot tell you how much against my own
inclination I am here on my present errand.'" he said,
brokenly and hurriedly ; " but as I see you only
desire confirmation of what you alread\' know, it is
no breach of trust on i.iy part to admit that you are
right in what you have hinted at."

He paused, as if there were something else on his
mind which he did not rightly know if he would be
justified in saying to her Then he took a turn up
and down the room, coming back to where she was
standing calmly regarding him, with her two hands
resting on the back of a chair, but still with that
wistful look in her eyes that was pitiable to see.

♦'WILL YOU DO AS I WANT YOU?"

After a brief pause he continued, somewhat coldly
as she thought —

" I do not know that I should say what I am goin^
to now, more especially as I think you have not
treated me as you ought to have done. For a very
long time the operations of your father have been
known to the Mounted Police. For instance, they
were telegraphed only a few days ago from Fort
Benton to Walsh over the ' Rocky Mountain Tele-
graph Company's' wire. Now, Miss St. Denis, I
naturally feel somewhat mortified, though I am
aware you are perfectly justified in asking me by
what right I express such a sentiment, when i think
how I have sacrificed that fine sense of duty (which
should always be paramount in a man in my
position) for the sake of helping your father to free
himself from the dangerous connections he has
made, and how my well-meant warnings ha"c been
disregarded."

She did not tell him, as some other women might
have done (either from mistaken motives of a subtle
political nature peculiar to a woman's mind, or as a
matter of fact), that neither she nor her father had
invited this confidence on his part, or had even
attempted in the very slightest degree to deceive him
or dissemble when uninvited he had visited them.
She only recognised the justice and truth of what he
hinted at, and, pressing her hand wearily to her fore-
head, she waited for him to continue, which he did.

SINNERS TWAIN.

\ "

" But let us speak more plainly in order that we
may not misunderstand each other. As you know, I
have called several times upon your father here, just
as any other civilian would, in a purely private and
social capacity, and you have always been good
enough to make me welcome as such. Indeed, I
often have been only too glad to avail myself of the
opportunity your father so kindly placed at my dis-
posal, of spending an hour or two pleasantly that
v/ould otherwise have been spent very drearily indeed
in this lonely part of the country. Of course — and I
am very sorry to give you pain by referring to it
again — I have always been aware of the traflfic your
father engaged in with Montana, and I have always,
so far as I could consistently with my sense of
duty, and ideas of what v/as proper as his guest,
ndeavoured to influence him against the suicidal
ourse he is pursuing, for such a course in the end
must always prove disastrous. Indeed, the very last
time I was here I gave your father a very direct
warning. It seems madness to me that he should
have attempted another venture in the teeth of what
was said on that occasion. And now we have been
sent to intercept him as he comes across the lines.
It will be a very serious affair for him if we get him
with a contraband cargo, which he is pretty sure to
have. I can assure you I dislike the painful task of
arresting him only less than the necessity of having
to prepare you for it."

"WILL YOU DO AS 1 WANT YOU?"

And now the composure of the girl seemed to
have deserted her. She grew very pale, and a dizzi-
ness seemed to seize her ; she swayed for a moment
where she stood. The trooper caught her b)^ the
arm tenderly and respectfully, and placed her in a
scat. Looking up she saw the sincciity of his great
pity for her in his eyes, and it moved her strangel}'.
But she seemed to recover as she spoke to him.

" I am afraid I am rather upset," she said, with a
pitiful little smile. Then, as if unconscious of the
presence of any one, she involuntarily clasped her
hands in front of her, and moaned, " Oh, m}- poor
father, it is all for me you do this thing ! Goodness
knows I would rather work from morning till night
and live on a crust than have things as they are."

She remained for a few minutes as if buried in
thought, with her hands nervously clasping each
other on her lap, and her eyes looking out tearfully,
and oh, so sadly, into the blurred, hurrying snow-
storm. Harry Yorke stood with his hands behind
his back, and a troubled expression upon his face,
looking away from her into the wintry-like chaos of
drifting snowflakcs. Once or twice the girl stirred
uneasily, and regarded the trooper intently as if she
were studying him. Some struggle, some conflict of
inclinations, was going on within her. Was it her
maidenly pride, and that sense of dut)- she owed to a
parent? Her knowledge of the conventionalities of
life might not have been so complete as many of her

58 SINNERS TWAIN

more worldly-wise sisters in more favoured parts of
the world, but her innate maiden modesty was true
to itself and free from prudery. Modesty is always
a powerful charm in a girl when untrammelled by
ialse restraints. Once or twice sV.e moved her lips as
ii to speak, then checked herself. After all, on what
grounds could she claim the assistance or connivance
of this man ? He had always treated her only with
that courtly and kindly respect, which her instincts
told her was in no way different from that which he
had used towards those grand ladies of that very
different world to which he had at one time belonged.
But in the convent at Prince Albert she had mixed
with many who were ladies, both by birth and up-
bringing, and as on both her father's and her mother's
side she inherited that natural dignity and charm of
manner that has its origin in gentle blood, she, per-
haps, showed a higher degree of refinement than
generally falls to girls in her sphere of life in the
Canadian North-West, so, perhaps, he could not well
treat her otherwise. Besides, she had read much,
and, what was of greater importance, she had a
natural taste for the better kind of literature of a
healthy and elevating tone, not the pessimistical,
prurient, and sickly sort that libels the present age
under the false title of l!ie society *' up-to-date "
novel. She could not presume upon any fancied
regard which he might entertain for her ; the very
idea was nauseous. Besides, in that case what would

"WILL VOU DO AS I WANT YOU?"

he think of her? To throw herself upon his pity
would be equally humiliating. Moreover, would it
not be a direct insult to him in the honourable dis-
charge of his duty, and be assuming a certain moral
laxity in his nature, to ask him to help her in this
emergency ? She might just as well ask him, in as
many words, to be false to his queen and country at
once.

15ut then the thought of her father rose up before
her ; the days when after her mother died, and they
were travelling westwards over the vast and seemingly
interminable prairies with the waggons. How, many
a time, to please and soothe her to sleep, he would
walk for miles alongside the waggoiiS with her in his
arms. How he had helped to nurse and tend her,
with all the deep-seated tenderness and devotion that
his nature was capable of. How he would unbend
from his seemingly austere mood, and gather flowers
and play with her on the prairie for hours together,
so that she might not miss the compa*iionship of
other children. How her slightest wish seemed his
proud privilege to perform. How he had nursed her
through long sleepless nights of illness, nor ever
.seemed to have but one thought or wish, and that for
her. How he had parted with her, when she had
gone to the convent on the Saskatchewan, ir,i what
she knew was a spirit of self-sacrifice, in order that
she might not grow Up as ignorant as many of the

Even now. if her

children in that great lone land.

SINNERS TWAIN.

-.-A

father h.'id broken the liws of the country, sometliing
told her it was no mere j^reed of ijain on his part —
personally he was the most unselfish of men — tl;'\t
had led him to do this, but that he cventuall}' mij^ht
be able to bring her into a sphere of life which wcmld
be more congenial than the present one. *' Oh, lather,
father!" she repeated to herself, as the image of his
l:indl}^ time-worn face rose up before her, from that
wonderful magi«„-miiror of the mind, and which she
knew and lOved so well. One course lay open to her,
and she did not hesitate to contemplate it : where
only the matter of her own personal safety and
physical well-being were concerned. Her eyes were
undimmed now ; rising she went towards the window
and looked out.

" Do you think we .shall have much of a blizzard ? "
she inquired.

" It is impossible to say, but I hope not," he
answered.

Then, as if it were in answer to some project she
had just communicated to him, he continued —

" But you must not think of going out in such a
storm ; you would lose your way before you went
sixty yards. lk\sides, if the inspector thought you
meditated any such thing he would not scruple to
put you under some embarrassing restraints."

"Does that man control my movements?" she
asked, somewhat indignantly. " The day is past
when the Norlh-West Mounted PoLce relegated to

«» w

WILL VOU DO AS I WANT YOU?"

6 1

themselves rights that even the Russian Police would
hardly dare to take."

" No," he answered, humbly, coming towards the
window and standing opposite licr ; " but you must
recollect that he is not a "

" Yes, I understand, and will spare you the pain of
the admission."

" Thanks. I wish I could help you," he continued,
" but you can understand my position. I am not
blameless in my own eyes now, tilling you what I
have done."

Still he kept his eyes averted from hers, and tried
to concentrate his gaze upon the hurrying snow-
flakes ; but that was a difficult thing to do.

And now the girl nerved herself for her self-
imposed task. As if to fix his attention she placed
one hand lightly upon his arm, and he was forced to
look at her. Somehow, to him, this seemed a natural
and simple action coming from her. He knew it was
a dangerous and fatal thing for him to look at her ;
but then he was in no way different from other men,
although he belonged to a calling that is supposed to
eliminate from its exercise anything approaching
sentiment. She was a very beautiful girl indeed ;
but whether it was a sense of pity for her, or the
witchery of her superior presence that influenced him,
he did not specr.late upon just then.

''You will perhaps 'forget what I am going to say
now," she said, catching her breath quickly, " if it

,/f''

SINNERS TWAIN.

ajjpcars to you ati unfair and unwomanly thinjr of inc
to ask. Of course, I have no claim on your con-
sideration whatever, but I somehow think you would
rather help me than otherwise. I am not j^oin^' to
insult you by asking you to avoid your duty ; but 1
should like you to bear in mind my position. You
must know my father is everything in thi.s life to me,
and I would not think twice of risking my life in the
chance of saving his ; though I know he would
consider such a sacrifice wasted were I to lose mine,
i'erhaps you can understand this,"

Me did not speak, but simply bowed his head.

She went on again —

" I know that wherever he is on the prairie at
present, he is safe enough — he has weathered too
man\' bliz/.ards. As long as this one lasts he is safe
enough from you ; but, of course, you know he may
pull in here any time it lifts. What I want to ask ot
you is that you promise me not to interfere with my
movements whenever the sno'«' ma)' slop. It may be
nothing to you that I promise my lather shall never
offend again ; but it shall be so. It may not be such
a very great thing to ask of you after all, but it means
everything to me. Perhaps I might be more certain
of the success of my plans were I to keep my own
counsel ; but I have reasons for this step, and would
rather feel that you were with me. VV^ill )ou do as
I want you to ?"

Her hand still rested lightly, and as if unconsciously,

'•WILL VOU DO AS I WANT Vol?"

upon his wrist ; find her touch seemed to thrill iiiiii
as no toucli had ever done before. At the close of
her appeal she had withdrawn her eyes from his face,
as if she were conscious of havin^j said more than
prudence dictated. With that ^reat f^leamin^^ wealth
of silky hair surrounding her beautiful face Hke an
aureole : watching the downward glance of these
delicately veined eyelids and with that mobile face
so near to his, he would have been more than human
could he have done otherwise than he did. Siie had
thrown herself as it were upon his mercy. She had
shown that she had faith in his natural goodness of
heart. And, after all, it was not for herself she
pleaded, but for a father. She had not asked him
to do anything that was in any way disgraceful, she
iKid merely asked him, what it was unnecessary for
her to have asked, not to interfere with her move-
• i.^nts when the storm had hfted. Besides, doubtless
kr.owing that the inspector was brute enough to lock
two defenceless women up, if he suspected that they
might spoil his contemplated seizure, she reckoned
that he, the sergeant, having her confidence, might
possibly dissuade him from any such arbitrary
measures. But was it necessary to ask his as ' .'"-.ice
at all? She might have known that with a'j excep-
tion of the inspector himself, none of the others
would have dreamt of intcrferincr with her move-
fnents. No, not even, perhaps, if they had suspected
her designs. Could it be that on account of their

SINNERS TWAIN.

slight intimacy in the past, she did nc)t wish to
appear as if stcalinfj a march on him ? Some people
had such a fine sense of honour as to the relations
between one person and another, even althouj^h these
relations hinged on a matter of dubious principle.
This thought, somehow, thrilled him with a certain
secret satisfaction.

Their eyes met for a second, but neither spoke.
Then, by an impulse that he could hardly account
for, the trooper jjerformcd a good old-fashioned,
chivalric action that has, somehow, gone out of fashion
in these more prosaic modern times. He caught up
one of her hands, and bowing his head over it, lightly
pressed it to his lips ; and she knew that he had
granted her request.

And then he left the room abruptly.

CHAPTER V.

HER MANY MOODS.

When Marie was left alone, she stood for a lon^
time gazing out upon the blurred and dreary
prospect that the external world presented. But,
perhaps, she never saw it, for her eyes had that far-
away look that denotes the mind to be engaged in
other than its immediate surroundings. When the
trooper had kissed her hand she had not attempted,
nor indeed did she desire, to withdraw it. She was
no prude, and she interpreted that old-time action as
any other sensible girl would have interpreted it.
Perhaps, however, it might have sent an extra tinge
of colour into her cheek, and a shyer and gladder
light might have dawned in her eyes. As has been
said, they were beautiful eyes at any time ; but there
was a light in them now that had not been in them
before. Her spirits gradually rose as a certain
definite plan revealed itself to her. She felt as if
she must occupy herself with something or other,
or else her hectic spirits would break through all

SIXXERS TWAIN.

!l!

iili

restraints and lead her into some foolishness. She
looked at the books which the trooj^er had placed
upon the dresser for her. *' And I never even said
' thank you ' to him," she said, learfuliy, and with a
dawning sense of recollection. Then Jeannette came
back into the room, and away her quick thoughts
flew on a new tack.

" Oh, Jeannette ! By the way," she said, " I wonder
if the police have got their own food with them ?"

" Sure, sure, honey. They ahvays carry everything
about with them. An old police hand can almost
cook a meal in the face of a blizzard. But even if
they have not, do you think they hev' any call on
you ; 'specially that pig-like man with the little gilt
crown on the collar of his pretty little red coat. Ouf !
the beast ! " And old Jeannette vigorously shoved a
billet of wood into the small cooking stove, as if it
were the inspector she were placing there for crema-
tion. The old lady's very decided animus evidently
amused Marie, who continued —

" But, Jeannette, the others are not like him ; for
instance, that nice little fat man, Pierre, with the
black, beady, twinkling eyes, although, perhaps, his
waist is not quite so slim as one could wish it to be.
And ther2 is that young policeman — such a dear,
curly-headed little fellow. I declare I've almost a
mind to fall in love with him ; or I wonder if I could
get him to fall in love with me? And then the
sergeant " here she stopped abruptly, and did not

I I

HKR MANY MOODS.

say anything more about him. Hut she laughed
almost gaily as she continued — "Then, Jeannette, let
us make some pancakes — we've lots of maple-syrup
-and send them into the next room. You know it
might possibly put that dreadful thing, whom you
call the '* houkimo," into a somewhat better humour.
I am sure that through the stomach is one way of
reaching that sort of creature, anyhow." And Marie
rattled on as if under the influence of a strong reaction
of spirits.

" hy the blessed Virgin, and what may be the
matter with my honey.''" cried the keen-eyed Jean-
nette, regarding Marie wonderingly.

She had never seen the girl in such spirits before.
She had expected since the arri^'al of the police that
the girl would suddenly break down, and that she —
Jeannette — would have to comfort her, and have to
advance all sorts of fictitious hopes regarding her
father's ultimate safety. But here she was labouring
under an almost hectic flow of spirits, and even pro-
posing to entertain those who were about to bring
disgrace and misery upon her and hers. A/d Jois !
It was a strange world. Jeannette, for all the years
she had lived in it, could hardly understand it.
Jeannette belonged to that lower order of beings with
whomthc luxury of nerves and their vagaries is supposed
to be an unknown qu.antity. She remembered how
in Old Fort Garry, in the gay old days befcjre the
Wolseley Expedition, when two or three of the head

SINNERS TWAIN.

officials in the Hudson Bay Company's service had
brought up their wives with them, she had taken
service with one of them. These gay creatures of
/e beau mondc came from Montreal or Quebec, and
had in their time even visited these almost mythical
over-sea cities, London and Paris, Therefore, their
manners and little ways to the sturdy and simple chil-
dren of the great North-West passed all understanding.
She could remember how, occasionally — as if to vary
the monotony of their lives — whenever they happened
to have difterences of opinion with their lords and
masters, or after labouring under any unusual mental
excitement, they inevitably resorted to one potent
and unanswerable argument — hysterics. Could Marie's
unwonted conduct be another form of this recondite
disease ? Jeannette knew that this girl's mother
belonged to that supeiior order of beings, with whom
the possession of delicately strung nerves is an
hereditary attribute. This she knew just as truly r>s
that the girl's capacity for suiting herself naturally
to such company as chance threw in her way, and
still showing that she was superior to it, was
another.

Jeannette, therefore, in order to counteract any
further development of the symptoms already refer-
red to, hastened to humour her young mistress, and
getting out the flour, &c., prepared to make the
pancakes, which, by the way, is a popular dish on
the American continent. She, however, resolved to

HER MANY MOODS.

keep an eye on her young mistress, and determined
if that "pig-like brute of an officer," put as much as
a foot over the threshold of the kitchen to annoy
her young mistress, to find out whether his head
or a billet of wood were the harder. Upon this point
Jeannette had her doubts.

As the old lady indulged 'n these speculations
there was a knock at the door. It opened, and a
buffalo-coated figure appeared in the doorway.
Now, the law of association is a powerful thing,
and Jeannette's hand darted like a flash of lightning
to the rolling-pin, and her lips framed that significant
word, *' git ! " In another second, Dick Townley, the
private, would have met with an impressive reception
had not he darted back in alarm.

" Hold hard there, madam ! " he cried in alarm.
" It's not Pudding-head — I mean the inspector."
"The devil!" he said to himself, " what an old fire-
brand it is to be sure."

" Oh, it is you, is it ? Entrerl' cried old Jeannette,
with an apologetic smile upon her face. " Why did
not you say who you were at first ? It would have
been a matter of regret with me if I had caused the
death of one so young."

The youth looked sheepishly upon the face of
Marie, who was sitting with her head slightly thrown
back and evidently much amused. Indeed, it would
have been a difficult matter for any one to have
refrained from laughing at the sight of the young

SINNKRS TWAIN

trooper's evident alarm, on his catching a glimpse
of that uplifted arm and rolling-pin.

" Indeed, madam," said the polite and talkative
youth in answer to Jeannette, " I was not aware that
)'our personal animus to m}- superior officer was to
take such a practical and forcible expression." He
paused, shut the door behind him . 'jfully as if to
prevent the sound of their voices from reaching the
other room, and, with an expressive grin upon his
face, continued in a somewhat lower voice, "And I
hope you will let him have it good and hard when
you do give it him. I can assure you, it's the only
way that any expression of an absence of .sympathy
with his style will ever be brought home to him."

He paused again, then said, as if it had only
suggested itself to him. "But if you've got any oak
or pine, use that — cotton-wood is too soft, and would
make no impression. You .see, it's difficult to believe
how thick that man's skull i.s."

And now he seemed somewhat d'ffident, and his
eyes wandered round the room. Then, as if he had
found what he wanted, he caught np the two empty
buckets and hurried out again.

" Good boy ; gone to fetch some water," explained
Jeannette.

" What a nice face ; and what a beautiful curly head
of hair he has," said the girl, abstractedly. She was
in a dangerous mood now ; for it is a remarkable
psychological paradox, that it is often the most un-

HER MANY MOODS.

m^cly and the soberest individuals who, on occasions,
do and say the maddest and most incomprehensible
things. " But he seems rather self-conscious," she
continued, " and as if he were almost afraid of a girl.
I wonder if he has ever kissed one. Jcannette, you
wont look, will you, if I kiss him ? "

" Pardonncz inoi^ yeanncttc. Do, like a good soul,
go into the next room for only Jialf a minute, and just
give her a ehance."

And to the horror and confusion of poor Marie,
the youthful trooper — who had been in the passage
all the time pulling on his mitts — again put his
head into the room, and smiled in a fashion that
was hardly in accordance with the diffidence with
which he was accredited. Marie fairly put her hands
up to hide her face, which, judging from the colour
that had mounted into her beautiful throat and neck,
must have been of a tell-tale crimson. She had never
before in her life made such a bold speech ; and it
seemed, to her innocent mind, as if it were a special
dispensation of Providence that she should be caught
in the very act of making it, and covered with con-
fusion.

As for Jeannette her suspicions were confirmed.
Her dear and modest young mistress had contracted
that mysterious disease which she had seen, in another
form, compel high-born dames to throw about china
ornaments, to use absurd and incomprehensible lan-
guage, and generally miiiconduct themselves. To

SINNERS TWAIN.

think that this poor g'rl, whom she had hardly ever
before heard mention the name of a man, should
actually talk about forcibly kissiii^^ one, was some-
thing that almost took away her breath. Or, could
." be that her knowledge of the double risk and
danger her father ran juj:^ then had temporarily
unhinged her reason ? She — Jeannette — would look
up that bag of Indian medicinal roots and herbs,
which she resorted to in cases of emergency, and
would probably find some potent medicine, which
would counteract and arrest the progress of the
disease, for such she regarded it.

So far as the youthful member of the police force
himself Avas concerned, who had been the innocent
cause of all the trouble, he was the least concerned
of the three. It would have rather surprised the two
women and added to their peace of mind, could
they have known that this not-so-bashful-as-he
appeared-to-be young man, was in no way shocked
by the unblushing declaration of poor Marie. For
had he not in his time been in the company of jolly,
light-hearted, and, perhaps, not a little mischievously
inclined English girls, who had not onl)'^ threatened
to kiss him (not under the mistletoe either), but had
actually done it too. And he had not thought much
about it either ; for he had been one of those enviable
ones who, for certain reasons being made much of,
grow accustomed to attentions that would turn the
heads of less favoured individuals, and who even

HER MANY MOODS.

come to look upon such attentions as theirs b\' natural
right. Therefore, the difBdencc of this in'j^enuous
youth was indeed a refreshing thing, and often sur-
prised the unsophisticated. But his halcyon days in
the old country had been all too brief; for, like many
more younger sons of younger sons, he had been
packed off to Manitoba to learning farming. There
finding the task of expostulating with perverse oxen,
and milking deceitful cows, hardly the idyllic and
congenial employment he had imagined it to be, he
had, like many more of his kind, drifted into the ranks
of the North-West Mounted Police, there to moralise
with kindred spirits over "jo)s departed never to
return." •

And now, as he went to th<; covered well, he
bowed his head to the icy blast. " l^y Jove," he said
to himself, *' who would have dreamt of seeing a girl
like that in this God-forsaken part of the world ?
Hut she's only like all the rest of them. The girl
who looks as if she were thinking of heaven all the
time, and who you think only requires a pair of
wings to make her an angel, is, probably, thinking of
nothing higher than man's gullibility, and wondering
if the right chap will have sand enough to come
forward at the right time. 15 ut I'll have that kiss
yet in spite of the old lady."

But he did not have that ki'-s.

CHAPT]^R VI.

DEAD s i: L r.

The blizzard raided for a couple of da\s. The snow
then ceased fallini;, but the fierce wind hurried the dry,
powdery, crystalline flakes along over the exposed
and far-stretching prairie in one dense and cloud-like
sheet, making it impossible for any one to see five
yards ahead. And still it was a paradoxical thing,
when one came to think of it, that the sun shone
brilliantly down all the time, and lit up that ghostly
but tangible atmosphere of snow, till it became
instinct with rinc,s of prismatic colouring, and spark-
led as if it were a shower of fine diamonds. This is,
perhaps, the one great redeeming feature in this great
lone land in the long winter-time. What, indeed, may
be said to give it a life peculiarly its own : for were
there no shading in Nature's pictures, then would the
comparative effects of light and colour be meaning-
less. No matter how the blizzard rages, no matter
how the quicksilver sinks in the thermometer — 30°,
40°, 50° below zero — and over the silent and illimitable

HIS DEAD SELK.

the

stretches of snow-clad, v iiul-suept prairie J.ick l-'rost
securely reij^ns, 'he all-enlivening and cncirclin<4 sun
generally ' hines down uninterruptedly from a cloud-
less sky vhrough it all. (juastly and desolate indeed
would be that occui-like surface of rolling i)rairie
withoi!*" il'. cheering rays : a shipless sea in a region
(jf eternal twilight would not be more weirdly melan-
choly.

In Gabriel St. Denis' room the officer, the sergeant,
the private, and the scout passed the time a i' y
best could. The officer and the scout had, d( bti ,
the best of the situation. The first mcnti' ' "c: was
so happily constituted by nature that lie nev r felt
the leaden wings of Time. I le could, like .; '.hrught-
reader, when he wishes to receive an impression or a
brain-wave, allow his mind to become a perfect blank,
in which he existed in an almost trance-like state.
Generally speaking, this was Jamie's normal condition ;
only it needed no great exercise of will power on his
part to arrive at this happy state : there were seldom
any thoughts to get rid of in his brain. And as for
receiving impressions — unless they were unpleasant
ones — it would have required more than the hypo-
thetical surgical operation associated with Scotsmen
to inoc'date him with one. It would have required
some violent shock to the system — something of the
nature of wood or iron brought in forcible contact
with his bullet-like 'head — to arouse in him the
faintest suspicion of intellectual activit)-. He would j

SINNERS TWAIN.

lie on his back, stretched on a buFalo-robe in front of
the stove, for hours at a stretch, atul i^a/.e vacantly at
the ccilinj;. The only jxirt of the day in which he
seemed to evince any interest was meal-time.

On the day of their cominj^ the scout had been
summoned to the kitchen by Jeannettc shortly aftcr
mid-day, and comin^ij back he had spread the table
with a snow-white cloth, and brought in, much to
Jamie's surprise and delight, a dish of hot potatoes,
some cold venison, a dish of steaming and juicy bear-
steaks, and a large dish of pancakes with maple syrup.
On this occasion Jamie showed signs of returning
consciousness such as he had never before been .seen
to exhibit. Moreover, he was heard to exclaim as
he rubbed his hands together, "Well, I'm darned!"
After this mental feat, and for the next twenty
minutes, his mouth was too full to permit of his
entertaining the company with any further exhibi-
tions of his conversational powers. They all sat down
at the same table together ; for on the prairie this
is the usual way. The meal passed in comparative
silence ; the sergeant seerned to be engrossed with
his own thoughts, the officer's — if he had any — were
concentrated upon the bear-steaks, and the youthful
trooper and the scout soon allowed the light and
cheerful tone of banter, in which they had at first
indulged, to gradually subside. For the sight of their
officer's face had a depressing effect. At last the
latter could eat no more, and rising from the table

HIS DEAD SKIJ".

left the room to have a lo(jk at the horses in the
stable.

A stable was to Jamie what a drawinj^-room would
have been to one of his more civilised brother officers,
lie felt, literally, at home in the stable : the absence
of conventionality there, and something in its very
odour suggested congenial environment. He was
in the habit of spending many hours, when he could
manage it, with a straw in his mouth surveying
the equine race. He felt perfectly at case in the
company of horses.

On the occasion referred to, v/hen he hatl left the
room, Dick Townley, the private, laid down his knife
and fork, and for a few mciments indulged in a quiet
laugh. The sergeant asked him what was amusing
him.

* I wonder, when ho's in the mess-room at
Regina," said the youth, referring to his departed
superior, " if he eats with his knife as he does here,
dips his fingers into the salt-cellars, and, otherwise,
does so many extraordinary things ? ]iut I have
forgotten — he is a married man, so don't suppose he
will often honour the mess with his presence."

" You bet your boots," chimed in the little scout,
who prided himself upon his superior manners ;
" when I down in Regina was once, the waiter in the
officer's mess did in confidence communicate to me
that on one occasioil when Monsieur was dining in
UiC iiicss — the Commissioner and a number of guests

SINNKKS TWAIN.

were there — he spilt his />(>/(rx(' all over the table, used
his finders a In foii relic ttc, aiul when thf)se — fiiv^u-r
j;]asses I believe it is you will call them — were brou,i;lu
ill, he (lid stare upon them, and asked if there was
j^oin;^ to l)e a christening^ match. Mon Dim — these
are i)an(al<es miV^nifujucy

"Oh, come now, you fellows," said the senj^eant
who, however, could not conceal a smile ; " xour talk-
is of a highly treasonable nature. Why can't you
leave your superior officer alone .' By the wav, we
must not allow those women to send in food like this
to us. It makes me feel horribl}' ashamed when I
think of their kindness, considering^ our errand here ;
but, as the boss won't think of thankint,^ them, I shall
^o m and do so myself later on. I wonder if we
could annex a cross-cut saw somewhere ; I don't
believe in burnini^ other j)C()ple's fire-wood for
nothin*^ ; but I noticed an out-house at the back,
perhaps we could get a few logs into it, and cut up
sufficient wood for the whole lot of us. In the
meantime, I'm going out to look after their cattle
in the corral. I uonder if they have any water in
their buckets in the next room ; you might just
go in and see, Pierre. I wonder which of the women
made these pancakes — they arc superb? "

Here Dick Townley said — without looking up,
however, " You needn't bother, Pierre. I filled their
buckets some little time ago."

" Indeed ! that was thoughtful of you," said the

HIS DKAI) SKIJ\

scrf^eant, somcwh.it surpriscil, and witli ati im-
penetrable smile.

" Why, what are >'c)U ^ninnin^ at, Yorke?" pursued
the irreverent youn^^ster, with not a little annoyance
showin<^ in his voice. "Can't a fellow carry a bucket
or two of water for a woman, without you sccin*^
something funny in it?"

" Oh, certainly, certainly ; keep your coat on, my
boy," was the answer, still with that odd smile. " I
miy[ht have known that some one would be jijallant
enough to render a service in that direction. lUit
you haven't told mc what you think of Mademoiselle
St. Denis yet, Dick. Don't you think a girl is bound
to vegetate in such a place ? "

Now, Dick Townley had no particular desire to
discuss the merits of this girl with his comrade : he
had, somehow, not thought the latter had sufficient
interest in the fair sex to converse intelligibly on
such a momentous subject. His first impression,
when he had seen Marie St. Denis, had been one of
surprise and admiration at discovering such a rara
avis in such an unlikely place. Certainly he had
heard rumours regarding her good looks ; but had
ascribed them to the usual delusive talk peculiar to
Mounted P"licemen, who, in tiieir isolated positionC
by a law of . ature, take every bird to be a jay, and
the plainest-fc'itured women the personification of
female loveliness. Moreover, after the, to him, flatter-
ing speech he had overheard the girl give utterance

■ I

Q f

>■

! !*

SINNERS TWAIN.

to, he had resolved to cultivate her acqur'ntancc.
l^eini; only human, and not wanting in worldly
wisdom, he had refrained from openly expressing his
admiration of her, in case his superior might take
it into his head to step in before him and spoil a
projected and agreeable flirtation. It was, therefore,
with not a little surprise he heard his usually reticent
comrade ask him for his opinion of the girl. The
ingenuous youth felt flattered, and replied with an air
of superior knowledge of the subject in question.

" Well, Yorke," he said, " since you've asked me
for my opinion I'll give it you. I believe that girl's
a brick, a regular little brick, and as good as she's
good-looking. I don't mean to say either that she's
one of your milk-and-water sort ; because. I believe,
she's just as fond of a lark as any other girl. But
where and how she has picked up her manners and
style gets ov'cr me — why, she would pass muster as a
lady any day. I would not be surprised if there was
a drop of good blood in her. She talks beautifully,
and from her hands and feet to her teeth and eyes
there is not one faulty point about her. So far as
dress goes, though she is simplicity itself, in those
dainty little white collars and cuffs of hers there are
infinite possibilities. To use a rather hajkneyed
phrase she is ' a prairie rose.' * But the flowers that
bloom in the Spring tra-la, have notliing to do with
the case.'" And as if to divert attention from his
rather eulogistic and somewhat rambling opinion,

HIS DEAD SELF.

he broke out into a well-known Gilbcrtian
rh)'mc.

The serj^eant looked out of the window for a
minute, and smiled grimly. Then, as if impelled to
say something, he said in a tone that was meant to
convey an impression of half-heartedness in the
subject, but was of a peculiar dryness and signifi-
cance —

" And so she is a regular little brick is she ? and
she is fond of a lark ? In fact, as our superior officer
would characteristically put it, she has several good
points in her general get-up. By Jove, Dick, she
would feel flattered, I'm sure, if she could only hear
your estimate of her. As for there being a stran* of
good * blood ' in her as you remark — why, hang it,
man " — and he turned suddenly from the window and
faced the somewhat surprised youth — *' talking about
blood, did some of the names that even these half-
breeds have in this country never strike you ? Don't
you know that, generally speaking, and in comparison
with their numbers, there are more representatives of
a noble and historical aristocracy in Canada than
there are in France ? though some of them are
humble and poor enough now, goodness only knovv.s.
Now, just listen to a few of the names you meet with
in this country — names that people have grown so
familiar with, that no one attaches any significance to
them: St. Denis, St. Cloid, St. Arnaud, La Fontaine,
L'Esperance, St. Cioix, Xavier, and many others.

SIxXNERS TWAIN.

Why, the forefathers of some of those people our
parvenus hardly know were noblemen long before
William the Conqueror took a trip over to Anglia.
As to who her mother was I neither know nor care.
Jcannette, however, says she came of good stock.
Hut while we are on this subject, don't misunderstand
me ; if the girl's name were Smith or Robinson she
might still be every whit as much of a lady as she is
now — the ' rank is but the guinea stamp,' after all, and
is too often put on deuced inferior metal. But, since
you are on this racket, I may say she bears a name
that is as good, if not better, than most borne by our
English aristocracy: and you advance the speculation
that she has a drop of good blood ! "

He stopi)cd abruptly and laughed in a silent and
significant fashion. Then he continued, as if arguing
the matter out with himself —

" No ; the race that took a score of genera-
tions to develope hereditive traits and patrician
graces cannot have altered so much in two or three
generations, even although the lot of the latter has
been a hand-to-hand struggle with adverse circum-
stances in a strange, new countr)^ and with stern
surroundings."

Then, as if conscious that he had betrayed a little
more interest and warmth in his treatment of the
subject than there was any occasion for, he added,
with rather a feeble laugh —

'* But all this is unimportant, and I don't care a rap

HIS DEAD SELF.

:rn

for one woman more than for another. But at the
same time, I can't help thinking it is a confoutulcd
shame of old St. Denis to tempt Providence, and
bring disgrace upon the girl as he is doing, knowing
that she is breaking her heart over it all the time.
There is nothing of the money grub about her that
there is about the father ; she is good-hearted, sensi-
tive and proud, and, by Jove, she has got the right
metal in her, too! I never saw Jamie get such a
complete taking down before, not even when the
late Assistant Commissioner snubbed him in tlic
Orderly Room for trying to bully a corporal."

And here he broke off in what, for him. was an
unusually long speech, and lit his pipe. He was
unpleasantly conscious of the fact that his talk was
becoming of a rather wild and personal nature. He
was also aware of the fact, that by saying he did not
care for one woman more than for another, he spoke
as if he had been charged with so doing, when, indeed,
nobody had dreamt of hinting at such a thing. But
now the ill-concealed look of surprise and significant
silence of his comrade brought it home to him that
he had betrayed an interest in Marie St. Denis which
he wi.shed to avoid expressing, far less feci.

But there is no royal immunity granted from the
promptings of the human heart. Artificial surrcnmd-
ings and conventionalities may shield us from many
wayward longings ; bUt give the princess ar opjjor-
tunity of recognising an affinil)' in the jjcr jon of the

«4

SINNERS TWAIN.

plebeian ; then, all the laws and philosophy of Man
that ever have been, or may be, brought to bear in
assisting to destroy the attaclnnent so mysteriously
formed, cannot and never shall remove that unseen
but potent bond that knits together two kindred
souls. But there was no one going to interfere be-
tween Harry Yorke and any one whom he should
chance to feel attracted by, unless, indeed, the im-
pediments were of his own making. But he made a
common mistake in supposing that his own particular
past, and its experiences, would make him proof
against all emotional promptings in the future. His
had been a natural enough, if not a common ex-
perience, tie had been brought up to better things
than his station in life would now have indicated.
He had enjoyed his brief but bright existence, as a
man of fashion and pleasure, while it had lasted.
But evil days, which come to most of us, came to
him, and the only thing that would have saved him
from ruin — ^^marriage with a rich but proud girl — he
had not the courage to essay. He told himsell and
truly, that had he remained in his former independent
position he would undoubtedly have asked her to
marry him, even although she could show a sovereign
for every shilling he could. But what other coiv
struction could the world possibly put on his conduct
if he asked her to marry him, now that he was
penniless, than that it was ourcly sordid and

mercenary

i\nd what would the girl herself think ?

been
him :

view

HIS DEAD SEM\

r to

cor. •

duct

was

and

ink?

rcrhfips, about this time, he bcj^an to ic\t;rct that he
had let so many golden opportunities slip ; for he
had really admired her. 13ut it was too late : his
pride was too strong for him, and he had left England
without as much as saying good-bye. In six months
time he heard that the heiress was married, and
inconsistently he jeered at woman's inconsistency.
Perhaps he did not know that the woman, whom in
particular he jeered at, had hailed at first with almost
satisf.iction the news of his ruined prospects ; for she
had thought the gay world would not have the same
hold on him, and slie might win a fuller share of his
affections — indeed, she had been ready and waiting
to accept him if he only brought a moiety of that
desired love for her, anri nothing else. She would
win it all in time. But, perhaps, she had not
understood him. She gave him every encouragement
and sign of her preference consistent with a woman's
modesty and self-respect. Ihit his overweening price
had blinded hini, and he could not see things in
their proper light. In an impulsive spirit, ' tn of
mortification and picjue, she had married. 1 some
years, doubtless, his attitude towards women liad been
i( a reprehensible and cynical nature. Bu; utterly,
a more rational spirit had come to him, aiv. he had
.seen clearly enough that he, and not the v >inan, had
been in the wrong. But the experience had influenced
him ; pL-rhaps, not foi' the better in a worldl}- point of
view, for it had deadened ambition in him, and caused

SINNERS TWAIN.

him to pass through life as if his highest object
in it were merely the acquiring of strange cind novel
experiences. He thought he had done with the one
great experience of life. He was not aware of the
fact that he had deluded himself, and that he had
not really loved : for if he had, he would either have
married the heiress and snapped his fingers at wli.^i:
the world might think, or else he would not have
tamely submitted to a sl posititious Inevitable, with-
out making some endeavour to overcome it.

Doubtless, the dawning of the truth upon him by the
awakening of a feeling that he had not dreamt himseh
capable of, brought home the accusation to him, that
in his concentration on self he had caused others to
suffer. The natural laws of retributive justice m.\y
be slow, but they are sure. In the dawn of a new
life that he struggled against, he was haunted by the
upbraiding shadows of an old one.

CHAPTER VII.

AN UNCONSCIOUS PRECEPTOR.

A COUPLE of days had passed, the snow-laden winds
still blew fiercely, and the police party were kept
close prisoners in St. Denis' ranche. As for the in-
spector, he continued to enjoy long sp'^lls of mental
abstraction, lying on his buffalo-rol : ^n die floor
before the stove, with his eyes fixed upon the ceiling.
At long intervals, when he recognised the necessity
'^f varying this species of entertainment, he would
adjourn to tlie stable, where, sticking a straw in his
mouth, he would keep the horses company for half
an hour at a stretch. It was a redeeming point in
his character that he seemed fond of animals. " A
fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind." Surely
Nature made a mistake when she gave Jamie sonic
semblance of a man ; had she, for instance, made him
a donkey — a four-legged one. of course — he might
have posed as her supreme masterpiece.

As for the sergeant, he seemed strangely ill at ease.
He could not settle to read. The friendly little

SINNERS TWAIN.

wordy spars between his youthful comrade and che
cheery little scout seemed to have lost all attraction
for him ; and as for indulging in conversation with
his superior officer, as they had not two ideas in
common, that was not to be thought of. The mere
fact of the officer being comparatively uneducated
would not have mattered in itself, but Jamie, having
by contact with his brother officers become aware of
his deficiencies, dreaded to expose his ignorance
more than he could help. Moreover, being of a jca-
Icjs nature, he imagined that when an educated man
talked to him it was simply for the purpose of mysti-
fying and ridiculing him. His normal condition
therefore, when with his intellectual superiors, was
like a bear with a sore head. Jamie, however, would
probably have liked to go into the other room, and
see a little more of that interesting girl whom he
h.i 1 honoured so openly by expressions of his admi-
ration. But having heard the cunning little scout
whisper to the private (as if he feared being over-
heard), that the dipper still remained full of boiling
water upon the stove in the next room, he lost all
interest in the <4irl, and came to the conclusion that
to talk to one in her position was derogatory to the
dignity of an officer of the North-West Mounted
Police force.

The others had .sawn and cut up sufficictit firewood
to last the little house! lold for a month, and stacked
it neatly in one of the out-houses. They had kept

AN UN'CONSCIOUS I'RIX'KI'TOR.

the buckets full of water, thrown down some hay for
the few head of cattle in the corral, ami done other
necessary work about the place. Iiulced, in |)ure
L^allantry, Dick Townley in spite of the protestations
and warninj^js of Marie St. Denis (whom he .seemed
very anxious to favour with his attentions), would
insist on one occasion on milkinc^ a certain cow,
which the j;irl warned him thouy;h quiet enouj^h
i^enerally, would probably resent the ministrations
of a stranger. IVut the polite youth scouted the idea,
and taking the pail fi\)m her hand started in to milk.
When he pickcxl himself up a few seconds later in a
diity and daz<xl condition from the neighbourhood of
the ()p|H)site wall, and wondered where his cap and
the \x\i\ had got to, he wi.^ely concluded that it was
a mistake, and beneath the dignity of a Mounted
P««iicem-an to as.sociate him.self in any shape or form
with such an ungrateful and stupid animal as a cow.

The sergeant on the afternoon of the .second day,
as if he could endure his own company no longer,
had left his comrade's amusing them.selves according
to their .several ideas, and lietook himself to the ne.vt
room. Marie St. Denis looked up from the book <he
was reading, and thtn'e was a (]uick and pleased re-
cognition on her face as she saw who the visitor was ;
so perhaps, after all, there was no necessi y for ex-
pressing it in word.s. Old Je.'"inette motioned him
a chair near the stove, and told him to sit down.
The thoughtful and helpful w<i}-s ol the troopers had y^

'JO

SINNEUS TWAIN.

coinmctidcd themselves to her ; and, moreover, when
she considered that they were under the absolute
authority of her pet antipathy, thu inspector, her
sympathetic nature rei^arded thehi with a great pity.

" I see you have still got the inspector's shaving water
on the stove, Jeannette," said the sergeant, cheerily.

" Sure, sure," said the old lady, " and the skunk will
have it ) et if he puts as much as his nose inside the
door."

The girl had laid aside her book and was looking
into the stove. Her two hands were folded on her
lap in front of her ; through the mica slats in the
stove the ruddy firelight gleamed and flickered upon
her characteristically beautiful face and figure : she
made a pretty picture. Then she gazed abstractedly
at the glimmering of some of old Jeannctte's bur-
nished culinary api)liances as they hung against the
opposite wall ; but she seemed diffidetit in regard to
looking at her visitor. He, again, scrutinised her
thoughtfull}' for a few minutes without speaking.
He noted the erect and beautiful poise of her head
upon these graceful shoulders, the small ness and
faultless symmetry of her hands and feet, her clearly
cut and expressive features, that faint suspicion of
the sun's kiss on her soft cheek, and the simple
perfection of her plain, dark, close-fitting dress, only
relieved by the dainty white cuffs and collar. Hers
was not merely a physically beautiful face, but it was
an intellectually beautifu' one ; and not mere cold

AN UNCONSCIOUS PRECKl'TUR.

9 1

intellectuality — for intellect, in itself, is a cold thinj; —
but there was in it that indefinable soniethinLj that
defies analysis — that which men try to express when
they use the word " soul."

" What have you been reading ? " lie asked her at
length.

" An Australian story," .she answered ; " perhaps
hardly a woman's book, but it is an exciting one, and
I have been reading it to Jeannctte, who likes it
immensely. There is an awful abyss in it called
* Terrible Hollow,' where the bushrangers used to
hide ; it is the sort of place to haunt one's imaj; illa-
tion. Now, you have been in Australia ; if I recol-
lect rightly you told us .so once. Do you think there
ever was such a place as that hollow?" and she
looked at him inquiringly.

*' I think there are many such places," he said
simply, "and one in particular, called the Gro.se
Valle\', in the Blue IMountains of New South Wales,
that the author took his description from when he
pictured Terrible Hollow. Indeed, I spent several
da) s in it myself in '^^j."

"Oh, do tell usabo.it it," cried the girl, her eyes light-
ing up with expectation. " This is positively interest-
ing. Jeannette, didn't I tell you there was such a place,
and that if any one could tell us anything about it,
it was Mr. Yorke ! Now, just imagine that Jeannette
and I are a couple of big children, and that we are
dy'ng to know all about this place. Ik^gin."

IMAGE EVALUATION
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«>

Hiotographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

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4^0

SINNERS TWAIN.

Perhaps it was the one thing that this usually
reticent man most loved to talk about — the great
works and wonders of Nature that he had met with
in the course (jf his nomadic career. And now he
told them, in a simj)le, modest way, that had no
suspicion of pedantry about it, concerning this wild,
almost subterraneous valley. As he warmed to his
task he lost sight of his surroundings, and described
it with characteristic, graphic touches that held his
listeners as if spellbound. They could almost be-
lieve they were in that far off Austral land. He
pictured to them that great jagged rent on the table-
land of the Blue Mountains, that seemed to pierce
into the very bowels of the earth, and whose sides
went down sheer and precipitously for four thousand
feet at a bound. How, viewed from the verge of this
yawning, nightmarish abyss, the white-limbed giant
eucalypti, immense tree ferns, and monstrous fan-
tastic old-world flora, lurking in places where the sun
never shone, were hardly discernible to the naked
eye ; and where, indeed, the pitiless, adamantine
walls of rock made a twilight even in the daytime.
And how that cold and crystal stream that hurried
through it, flung in the first place from the dizzy
heights of Govett's leap, pierced its way between
Cyclopean blocks of sandstone, and through black sub-
terranean passages — a veritable river of Styx — until
it emerged into the bright sunshine again, on the
other and lower side of the mountain, to form the

AN UNCONSCIOUS PRECEPTOR.

Ncpcan river and help to swell the lordly Hawkcsbur)-.
Of such a place Milton or Dante might have dreamed.

But suddenly recollecting himself he stopped short.
Though he had the powers of a born narrator he had
no inordinate opinion of hiiT^self ; now he asked him-
self, in a spirit of irony, if he were graduating for the
lecture platform.

"Why did you not stop me?" he cried, almost
resentfully, "how I must have bored you? When
I get wound up on such subjects there is no hold-
ing me ; like the Saskatchewan, I go on for ever."

But the girl did not seem even to notice this self-
depreciating speech. As she had listened to his
description the interest upon her face had become
intense ; she had sat in a state of rapt attention,
her hands clasped before her resting on her knees.
Then slowly she .eemed to awake from wandering in
that quaint old-world valley — the deepest valley with
perpendicular cliffs in the known world — to the stern
snow-bound world of the frozen North, and the change
was a remarkable one, truly. As for Jeannette, she
had sat with wide-open eyes and tingling cars, as if
she listened to some of La Salle's adventures in the
days ot le bois courciirs. Australia seemed a farther
off and more m)thical country to her than that
happy hunting ground of the Ojibiways and the
Crees. She felt a wholesome respect for a man who
could tell of such wonderful places, and at the same
time hardly talk of himself at all.

SINNERS TWAIN.

" Now," said the girl, " this book has an interest
for me that it had not before. But it is a sad book,
and the moral is so evident "

She checked herself abruptly as if she had said
more than she intended to say,

" Yes," he said, musingly, and with an unconscious,
pitiless candour, "apart from the moral conveyed,
it is simply the history of a natural sequence obey-
ing one of Nature's just laws. It is the inevitable
tragedy which waits upon those lives whose down-
ward career has begun by some apparently trifling
divergency from the obvious path of duty, until
passion or the sordid love of gain has perverted the
moral eyesight, and death alone can break the spell
that binds the infatuated victim. Just think of those
misguided men being shot down like wild animals by
the troopers "

He in his turn stopped abruptly. What on earth
was he talking about to this girl ? He had entirely
lost sight of the awkward parallel and personal
bearing that the imaginary case he had been dis-
cussing had upon the surroundings of this girl's own
life. Had he forgotten what he was, and what he
was there for? Was it not bad enough to have
unthinkingly put into this innocent girl's hands a
book having such a direct personal application
without TDarading his views upon it, and running the
risk of being considered as playing the part of a
moral preceptor, though, to do him justice, nothing

AN UNCONSCIOUS PRECEPTOR.

irth
'ely
)nal

lis-
)wn

he
lave
Is a
lion

Ithe

f a

had been further from his thoughts. He fairly bit
his lips with vexation at the false light he must
appear in to this girl.

And now, how could he right himself in her eyes
without making matters worse .'' It was such a
delicate subject, and must surely only bring further
pain and humiliation upon her. Surely she could
not deem him guilty of such candid brutality.
Fearfully he stole a look at her.

And she, with that subtle intuition which some
women possess, saw that he had suddenly realised
what misconstruction might be put upon his un-
guarded moralising. She was also true enough to
her womanly nature to feel not a little secret gratifi-
cation in the fact that the thought of it distressed
him. Had it not, then, it would have indicated lack of
interest in her. She saw the horns of the dilemma he
was on, and it was a touch of the spirit of old Aiolhcr
Eve that made her affect to believe him guilty.

" Oh, of course, you arc right," she said, coldly,
after a pause, " and I ought to feel obliged to you for
the delicate way in which you have tried to inculcate
better principles into us poor folks "

]5ut she was mistaken when she thought she could
jest on such a subject, for her lip had quivered, and
there was a pathetic ring in her voice as she brought
the sentence to an abrupt close.

And now as it flashed upon him that his conduct
must have appeared in the light of a deliberate insult.

SINNERS TWAIN.

his face became the picture of remorse and mortifica-
tion. Truly, a man is a blundering animal. But
with not a little satisfaction she saw the perturbation
of mind she had caused him, and, like the true
woman that she was, came to his aid.

" Forgive me," she cried, and there was a hint ot
pity for him in her voice, *' Do you think I am not
a better judge of men than to suppose you guilty of
such a thing. I saw from the first that you had not
dreamed of preaching at us ; it was wrong of me to
try and joke on such a subject. Come, let us cry
quits, though your punishment has been more than
you deserved." There was a strange mixture of con-
trition and generous frankness in her voice.

He could hardly trust himself to answer her on
account of the unwonted elation that he felt. The
girl began to show in a new aspect in his eyes. No
experienced coquette of the gay up-to-date world
could have applied the rack, and released him again,
more skilfully that she had done. The very fact that
she had caused him temporary pain made him feel
attracted by her.

Then she rose from her seat, put on a dainty
beaver cap, pulled on a large loose fur coat, and
drew on her mitts.

He rose to go.

" Oh, no ; not till I come back," she said, pleasantly,
" Jcannette will make some tea, and you must wait
and have a cup with us. You see we are quite

A.\ UNCONSCIOUS PKECEl'TOR. ^^

fashionable folk here, and generally have a cup in tl,e
afternoon about four o'clock ; but then wo don't have
It to dinner like most people in the North-West I
am going out to get some honey, which is in' an
underground cellar on the face of the butte. and
won t be long. You see, it is my particular domain
and not Jeannette's ; hers is in making the best cup
of tea ever you drank. An revcirr

And with a graceful little curtsey that would have
done credit to a court belle of the Second Empire
and with a smile that seemed to banish care she
entered the little passage and passed out into the
blizzard.

CHAPTER VIII.

"AN UNCOMMONLY lUDLV I'ROZKN EAR."

Marie St. Denis was back again in less than ten
minutes. When she opened the outer door a gust
of cold wind and a little cloud of fine powdery snow
came in with her. Indeed, it was frozen on her
eyelids and cheeks, and for a moment she was
scarcely recognisable.

" The drifting snow stings and pricks one's face
like so many needle points," she exclaimed, breath-
lessly.

'* Pray come to the light," said Harry Yorke, taking
her by the arm gently, and leading her to the window.
" One of your cars looks as if it had been nipped by
the frost."

And, truly enough, the lower lobe of one of her
small shell-like ears was frozen ; it was as white as
the snow itself Two minutes exposure to a sharp
wind will often suffice to accomplish this not un-
common accident in these latitudes.

He took off her beaver cap gently, caught up a

"AX UNCOMMONLY 15AULY KKO/.KN EAR.' cyj

her

larp

un-

m a

small handful of snow which had crusted one side of
her buffalo coat, and with one hand among the soft,
glcaminc^ tresses of her shapely head to steady it,
with the other rubbed the nipped ear with snow.
She submitted to the ordeal, as most people sooner
or later learn to do in tlie North-West, as a matter
of course, but with a somewhat heightened colour.
Luckily, the frost-bite was a slight one, and, perhaj)s,
the pain occasioned by the thawing-out process was
inconsiderable, if, indeed, it pained at all. His
prompt manipulation of the frozen lobe had
minimised the unpleasant consequences usually
attending such accidents.

But it was a remarkable thing that the operation
took so much longer to perform than such operations
usually do. Long after the ear had become a natural
and healthy pink again — and she must have known
very well that the frost had been driven out of it and
the circulation of the blood restored — he continued
clasping that beautiful head with one hand antl
rubbing that ear with the other. Her delicately
flushed face and these bright eyes were dangerously
near his then. Surely such a palpable dallying was
a most reprehensible thing ; but such things will be
as long as human nature is human nature: as long
as pretty girls will freeze their ears and there arc
accommodating young men handy to restore the
suspended circulation.

Perhaps he had not thought himself capable of the

lOO

SINNERS TWAIN.

emotions that thrilled him wlicn he felt the touch of
that silk)' hair and that cool, soft skin of hers. What
with that great pit}' with which he hud begun to
regard her, and what with the knowledge of the
misery that he knew he must unwilling!)- have a
share in bringing upon h?r, she was exercising a
dangerous influence over him. Perhaps — and who
knows ? — if old Jeannette had not been there he
might, for such things not infrequently happen — in
a moment of unreasoning and irresistible impulse
have caught her to him and told her how dear she
had become to him. lie could remember how when
putting on the skates of the heiress in the Old
Country, the only feelings that he experienced when
he had handled her dainty little feet were that her
boots were uncommonly cold and clammy, and that
the steel sent an irresistible shiver through him. But
then, steel is not a beautiful thing like a pretty
girl's dainty ear. It was Jeannette that came
to the rescue of these two forgetful mortals just
then.

"• Allons-nous-en f she cried, "here is a cup of
beautiful tea with the best of cream in it. Bless my
heart, Marie, you must have had your ear very badly
frozen indeed, it takes such a long time to thaw
out ! "

And the old lady chuckled grimly. In her youth
her own ears had been frozen many a time, and
thawed out too.

PJ
th^

eai

coi

"AN rXCOMMOXLV T.ADLV FR()/.1:N KAR.' ioi

It was a .significant tiling that the rul)l)in^ shouKl
cease so sufklcni)', and tliat the pair should start
apart so [guiltily.

"Thank you very much," said the ijirl ; "how it
must have bored you to rub such a loni; time." She
really meant nothini; by this embarrassing^ speech ;
it was the only thin^ she could think of sayini^j just
then. People somehow will say thinc^s that they
would like to have expressed differently on such
occasions.

" Don't mention it," he replied, sheepishly. " It
was an uncommonly badly frozen ear — I mean, I
don't think that it was of much account after all."

" Oh, none whatever," she rejoined, simply and
without thinking this speech in any way remarkable.
But their eyes met, and there was a half-serious,
laughing light in hers, and such a conscience-stricken
look in his, that they both brcjkc into a somewhat
foolish and shamefaced laugh.

Then they sat in the early twilight anil enjoyed
Jeannctte's tea. They did not drink it out of
transparent china cups or chaste Sevres, but out of
plain, dead-white porcelain that is associated with
the Hudson Bay Company's hardware department.
And Jeannette poured it out of a little brown
earthenware pot, of which the spout could hardly
be said to be intact ; but, so far as Harry Yorke was
concerned, he only knew that it was most delicious
tea, and that he could not help saying so. They sat

103

sinni:rs twain.

round the stove and cliattcd merrily, and under the
cheerinj,^ influence of the tea, old Jcannette, with
the volatile spirits of her race, kept them amused
with some truly wonderful reminiscences she re-
counted. Slie possessed an almost inexhaustible
fund of the folk-lore of these once wild refrions.
Of the days (not so ver)- lon^i; af,^o, cither) when the
buffalo blackencfl the plains with their numbers ; ot
the cxcitinf^ adventures of the old French voyaijeurs
with the Indians ; of the days of the old North-West
Compaii}', and the Hudson liay Company, when
Assiniboia, Manitoba and the Territories generally,
were unknown, or at least known only as part of the
"Great American Desert"; of the days of Louis
Riel and the first rebellion ; reminiscences of
Wolseley ; what Fort Garry looked like in the old
Red River days ; and of the second rebellion. In
short, Jeannette was a livin;j epitome of the history
of the Great Lone Land.

It grew dark, but still they sat talking and laugh-
ing ; the cloud that threatened them had evidently
lifted for the time being. It would have been a
difificult thing for a stranger, seeing them sitting there,
to have guessed the nature of the business that
necessitated the presence of the police-sergeant in
that house. This individual, indeed, just then was
watching the effect of the flickering firelight as it
played upon the hair of Marie St. Denis, discovering
a gleam of gold in it. He would have been perfectly

"AN UNCOMMONLY HADLV i-Ko/KN KAK." 103

content to sit there for an indefniite period, so sutisfiecl
was he with his occupation.

To the next room, wlierc the officer, the private,
and the scout sat, a peal of lauijhter had penetrated.

"What the devil's that?" suddenly cried the
IJjentleman who represented ller Majest)'. " 1 guess
I he'rd that afore."

" Sir, did you do mc the honour of addrcssiivj^
yourself to me?" inquired the little scout with
1,'ravity.

"Yess, stupid — I declare, Pierre, you pjrow stupider
every day. I say you, constable, you Townley chap,
what's that blanked row? It wasn't a horse, was it?"
And Jamie's voice became tin^^ed with anxiet)-,

" No, sir," was the reassuring answer of the private.
" It is that beggar Yorkey — I beg your pardon, sir, I
meant to say the sergeant, fooling with that pretty
girl in the next room— and what a time he is having,
to be sure ! "

And at the thought of what he was losing, the out-
spoken and precocious youngster turned over on his
side, and groaned.

" Is he — er — fond of that sort of thing ? " queried
the officer angling, according to his wont, for itiforma-
tion of an incriminating nature.

"Well, I should just say, ra — thor," answered the
private, somewhat unjustly it must be confessed, but
with an excusable desire to punish his superior over-
coming his scruples. '* Why, Dick is .such a confirmed

104

SINNERS TWAIN.

flirt that he'd make love to the black-eyed goddess
Night if he got the chance."

"You don't say so? The devil he would !" was
the weak and dubious comment.

Jamie did not feel quite certain that the private's
reply committed the sergeant to any specific charge,
so did not care to pursue the matter further lest he
should betray his ignorance as to the personality of
the dark-eyed Eve in question, who, he concluded,
might only be some Toronto barmaid, after all.

The private noted A-ith disappointment that Jamie
had refused the bait.

" It's my usual luck," he continued, forgetting ^he
august presence of his superior officer in his half-
envious soliloquy. " But who'd have thought that
old Yorkey would have gone in for that sort of
thing? He's a good-looking chap, though, with that
independent, devil-may-care, cynical sort of air which
some women like."

" Then why is it, inon cJier Richard, you will not
adopt some of these qualities you will make allusion
to?" politely asked the little scout whose sharp
ears had overheard the latter part of Dick Tovvnley's
meditations.

*' Well, my dear Sancho," replied the youth, stroking
the place where as yet any hirsute covering had
resolutely refused to grow, much to the anxious
one's disgust. " You see, it is not quite my style. I
could not get up a Conrad-like appearance if I tried."

♦'AN UNCOMMONLY a.^uLY FROZEN EAR. 105

" Eh ! what's that ? What's that you say ? More
insolence, more rank insubordination and disrespect-
ful talk of your superiors?" cried Jamie, who, with
both ears very wide open, thought he had heard
enough to justify him putting a charge against
the private. "Just repeat that a-pop-probrious
term."

(Jamie occasionally hunted his dictionary for
long words, which he could use to advantage in the
Orderly Room.)

*' I said Conrad-likc, sir," repeated the private,
respectfully.

" And what the devil's that, sir ? Is it a man }
Or, if it is a woman, which amounts to the same
thing, who the devil is she ? " — clearness of expres-
sion and a grammatical treatment of his personal
pronouns were not Jamie's strong points. — " How
dare you flaunt your blasphemous Cockney slang in
my face ? You he'rd him, Pierre ? I call you as a
witness."

And Jamie dived into a little valise to find his
pencil and note-book.

" Hear what, sir? I didn't hear anything," said the
sccut stolidly. " Have you two been talking ? "

' Oh, holy smoke and Jerusalem ! " cried Jamie,
s'iinging to his feet. "This is a conspiracy — you
two are in league — you've done nothing but insult
me since we've been out. And you, Pierre, you'd tell
me a barefaced, darned lie, you would ! " And

,Mi]"l iwniim II

1 06

SINNERS TWAIN,

Jamie's round face looked as if a i^lass of port had
been poured over it.

" Sir," said the little scout, in turn getting warm
and forgetting himself. *' I would respectfully warn
you to meditate just a leetle before you talk about
lying — gentlemen do not do it ! "

" Well I'm . 7'here now, Townle}% you heard

that ; you can't say you didn't hear that blanked
insolence?" cried Jamie, running about distractedly,
then stopping right in front of the private, who turned
from the frosted window as if he had been looking
out through it.

" Hear what, sir? Did you address me } " and the
private looked around with a face so stolid and stupid
that it would have done credit to Jamie in one of
his intellectual moods. " Or were you talking to me,
Pierre ? I did not happen to be listening."

Jamie fairly staggered back against the wall speech-
less at this evidently barefaced conspiracy to set his
authority at defiance. The private and the scout
really feared that the apoplectic fit which some day
they knew must carry off Jamie was about to seize
him just then, and were in no small degree
alarmed. To tell the truth, there was not one grain
of disrespectful intention in either the private's or the
scout's composition ; it was only in self-defence that
they had to resort to these questionable means of
evading the serious delinquencies which their ignorant
superior would have involved them in, could he have

»'AN UNCOMMONLY BADLY FROZEN EAR." 107

ain
the
that
s of
rant
lave

had his own way. Jamie staggered to the door, and
went into the passage.

" Well, I'm blest ! " said the private under his
breath. " Some ot the officers in the North-West
iMounted Police are the best friends some of the rank
and file can have, and, of course, the Canadian
Government are at liberty to pursue their own policy ;
but when their policy necessitates the granting of
commissions to cads and tyrants like Jamie, I think
it is time for all respectable men to leave the force.
I wish to goodness I could scrape enough money
together to buy my discharge."

In the meantime the officer had gone to the door
of the next room and kicked violently upon it.

" Hilloa, there, Yorke ! " he shouted — Jamie usually
affected a nasal drawl. " Darn you, Yorke! come here ;
1 want you. What do you mean fooling away your time
for with that wench ? I want you to come and put
Townley under arrest for rank insubordination, using
insolent language to his superiors, and making a false
statement. I'll get ' Hatchet-face ' " — which, by the
way, was a nick-name given by the half-breeds to a
superintendent commanding the division — " to im-
prison him, and risk an appeal."

On hearing this excited speech the sergeant flushed
angrily and sprang to his feet. Jeannette stepped to
the stove, and seized a dipper of boiling water. The
beautiful "wench" referred to cried mischievously,
" Come in."

io8

SINNERS TWAIN.

But the old adage, " once bitten, twice shy," held
good in Jamie's case.

•' Not if I knows it ! Oh, not for Joseph ! " was
the drawling reply to this invitation from behind the
door. "I'm too fly by long odds for that. I don't
come in as long as that old she-cat has that dipper
of water handy on the stove." — Jamie had wisely
reconnoitred through the keyhole. — *' Get a rustle
on there, Yorke, or I'll shove a charge against you."

The sergeant hurried into the passage so as not to
keep his superior officer waiting.

"Come outside into the stable," said Jamie. "I
want to talk to you. What ? You want to put your
fur coat on, do you? Oh, never mind, I'm wrapped
up sufficiently for both of us " — his characteristic wit
was of a light and playful turn — " I decl^.re, Yorke,
you're getting more of a tenderfoot every day. I
say, by the way, don't you think you're rushing that
girl in there rather too hard ? You want to look out
and not scare her at the start off ; give her ' head ' a
little at first ; then just let her feel the bit, and stay
with it until 5''ou've got her well in hand — young
women are like young horses : they want a bit of
jockeyin'."

Harry Yorke did not dispute the correctness of
this analagous equine treatment. It was a subject
which he did not care about discussing, least of any
man, with his superior officer. He led the way into
the stable, and then waited to hear what the officer

"AN Ux\COMMONLY DADLY FROZEN EAR." 109

had to say. It took some considerable time to say,
and considerable ingenuity on the sergeant's part to
piece together the many obscure and irrelevant things
that were said, so as to arrive at a fairly intelligible
idea of what had occurred. And while the sergeant
was pointing out to him the futility attending the
putting of the private under arrest, if the latter and
the scout insisted on maintaining that they had
simply misunderstood him, he, the inspector, true
to the promptings of his erratic mind, went on to
speak of another phase of the situation.

" Now, then," he said ; " it's time this blizzard was
lifting. It might lift at any time now ; and more
than likely Gabriel St. Denis ain't far off. He'll
probably take a look in here to see how the little
wench is getting on afore he proceeds to the Hat
with his cargo of liquor. The snow will make
travelling for a waggon rather difficult ; but, at any
rate, ther'U be no difficulty in tracking anything
supposing we shouldn't catch sight of them just at
first, or should even pass them and then come across
their tracks travelling northwards. By the way, I
think it would be just as well to keep an eye on them
women to-morrow. They might mount one o' them
cayuses after we're gone, cut down one o' them
coullees, get ahead of us, and give old St. Denis the
tip. I've he'rd tell o' woman do that sort o' thing
afore. But, anyhow, no woman's game to do it
unless in broad daylight. But we'll watch them.

",7 *

SLNNERS TWAIN.

I've some experience o' women. Oh, I'm up to
their little games, you kin bet your sweet-scented
socks ! "

As the sergeant had not the slightest inclination to
dispute this point either with his superior, he muttered
something which might mean anything, but did not
feel particularly at ease in his own mind. Jamie
looked around the stable with an air of satisfaction ;
then, as if a new idea had just presented itself to his
mind, he said, with unction —

" I say, Yorke, ain't a stable a stunnin' place to
spend one's time in? I'm darned if I couldn't live
in one ! "

With this sentiment the sergeant hastened to
agree. It also struck him with a certain wtumsical
force that Nature did occasionally do unaccountable
things. When, for instance, she gave some brutes
; — notably the horse and dog — noble traits that
Iwouid have distinguished them as human beings, and
gave some human being predilections that would
have distinguished them as brutes. Then he felt in
an apologetic frame of mind towards the brutes for
having, even in imagination, added such an unworthy
specimen to their number.

Then dark-winged Night, that witching, dreamy-
eyed goddess, came fluttering down over the blizzard-
haunted, lonely land, shadowing the snow-blurred
landscape. Looking out upon such a hopelessly
dreary scene one could hardly imagine that the sun

"AN Ux\COMMONLY BADLY FROZEN EAR.' ,,,

would ever shine upon it again : that the cuttin-
and icy air would ever again be mild and balmy"^
that the songs of birds would rise in it, and that
trees and flowers would blossom and bloom there
such a grip had the Ice-king on it then. It was
hard to leaiise that, on the other side of that wild
storm-clou;l, the placid moon and stars looked down
as serenely beautiful and immutable as ever, just as
they had looked down for countless ages, through
realms of space, with sphinx-like inscrutabilit)- upon
this little planet of ours.

CHAPTER IX.

WHAT A GIRL WILL DO.

Midnight: and Sleep, that gracious goddess wear-
ing the pathetic image of her twin sister Death,
folding one half of a weary world in her fond
embrace. Midnight : and a change has come over
the spirit of the elements. For, as if the vacuum to
which the snow-laden air hurried northwards had
been filled, the blizzard gradually ceased to blow,
and sighed itself to rest. And then a stillness,
and a peace, as profound as that which is supposed
to brood over a dead lunar landscape, fell upon the
ghastly and desolate face of this great, lone, snow-
shrouded prairie-land. As if a curtain had been
drawn away from between heaven and earth, the
eternal dome of heaven showed clearly overhead.
It was gemmed and lit up by countless myriads
of God's own light-givers.

And yet there are those who will look upon such a
sight, who may even comprehend the marvellously
adjusted system that maintains the harmony of

WHAT A GIRL WILL DO.

113

the spheres in illimitable space, and will doubt
the existence of a Divine Intelligence to have
planned it so. There are those who, because their
speculative minds have wandered and lost themselves
in the cloudlands of metaphysics and transcenden-
talism, will say with querulous and pitiable self-
sufficiency, " There is no God," and at the same
time lose sight of the sigr'ficant fact and reason
of their own existence. There are those sterner
ones, who, grappling with this fact, think that they
have solved the whole mystery of life by a purely
temporal theory of evolution — a pitiful theory
when standing alone, when all it can teach is that
Man has raised himself a little higher than the
brutes, and, like them, has no life beyond the grave.
Gross, cheerless, and pernicious philosophy, antago-
nistical to the practical ethics of progress — God's own
way of working. Whether we have been evolved or
not is, perhaps, a matter of little moment after all.
Let us admit evolution, which is likel}'^ enough, not
regarding it with a cold, materialistic, and inadequate
philosophy, but with that higher reason that He has
implanted in our breasts. Then, is not His way of
working only the more wonderful and sublime, the
juster — more intelligible — subtler — more comprehen-
sive, the surer system of government when it dis-
tinguishes between responsible and irresponsible Man?
Man of no consequence, forsooth ! when it has taken
who knows what aeons to make him what he is —

Ill

114

SINNERS TWAIN.

a bcin^ whose sense of right and wrong has outgrown
the mere judicial phase — that phase in accordance
with Man's purely temporal well-being.

Surely this thought, then, should give us courage,
and enable us to cope with these devils Doubt and
Despair. .Seeing that all things in nature bear the
impress of intelligent design and progression ; since
death itself is but the attainment of another rung
in the ladder that reaches to a fuller life, we, there-
fore, who have become responsible beings, do not tarry
here, but journey on to reap as we have sown, in that
Hereafter so wisely shrouded from us.

Are not our lives greatly trials of faith.-* for can
the philosopher see farther behind the scenes than
the child ? Trials of faith, but with the abundant
proofs of His handiwork — the finger of God point-
ing onwards, upwards, and appealing to our truer
selves.

Twelve o'clock : and in a little end i :)om of the
house Marie St. Denis has risen from the bed on
which she had a few^ hours earlier flung herself with-
out having undressed. She struck a light stealthily,
lit a candle, and listened intently. There is no sound
to be heard save the hard, metallic ticking of the old
clock in the kitchen, and the occasional muffled bark
and stifled yelps of the hound as it lies dreaming
in front of the kitchen stove. A dog's actual life
is not such a very short one after all, for he lives
every minute of his waking life, and he lives his

WHAT A C.IRL WILL Do.

1 1

the

'ith-

lund

old

)ark

ling

life
lives

his

sleeping one as well — in liis dreams. Occasionally
the girl could iiear — so still it had become — the occa-
sional stirring of the cattle in the corral and shed.
The horses by this time were lying down, or do/ing
and nodding like sleepy human beings, in their stalls.
Then an energetic young cock in the partially under-
ground hen-house hard by, having been awakened by
a shaft of moonlight streaming full in upon him,
suddenly straightened himself and began to crow
lustily, under the delusion that he had overslept him-
self, and that he had allowed humanity in general to
sleep longer than that time which it was his privilege
to apportion for it. There are many men in the
world who resemble the cock ; they think they are
brought expressly into it by an intelligent Providence
in order to make their own particular presence known,
and direct their neighbours' affairs.

The girl placed the light in a shaded corner of
the room, and looked out of the little window.
Well might she start ; the blizzard had utterly ceased,
and outside it was almost as clear as da)', for there
was a bright three-quarter moon. The time had come
for action now ; but could she leave the house with-
out being observed ? She must not, in the first i)lace,
awaken Jeannette, who might try to detain her. The
sergeant had promised that he would not interfere
with her actions ; but it was just possible that if any
of the others happened to be awake, and looked out,
they would see that the storm had ceased — even if the

Il6

SINNERS TWAIN.

humming of the stove did not prevent them from
♦narking the absence of the wind — and at once be on
the alert to look out for her father, who, they knew,
if he were not even now near at hand, must be
travelling again. It was the fixed resolve of this
daughter of the prairie, to go out alone upon it, and
meeting her father, apprise him of the proximity of
the police, and so enable liim to escape the danger,
either by cacheing the liquor and returning empty-
handed, or by another scheine which her fertile brain
had already conceived. She knew it was bitterly
cold outside, but she had not lived in that country the
greater part of her life not to know exactly how to
prepare for such an emergency.

She slipped on a pair of extra woollen sox, and
a pair of moccasins, put on a species of buckskin
legging, beautifully fringed, and wrought with coloured
silks, such as some women have worn in tlie Western
States. She invested herself in a light and similarly
wrought loose garment, resembling a buckskin shirt,
and wound round her waist a long silk sash. She
pulled a large silky beaver cap down over her ears,
pulled on a pair of beaver mitts, then drew from
under the bed a pair of snowshoes, and carried them
under one arm, ready to slip on her feet. She was a
picturesque and typical figure for a land of ice and
snow. Then, as stealthily, she extinguished the light,
and left the room. So softly did she step that even
old Michelle, the hound, who lay before the stove, did

WHAT A (;IKL WILL DO.

not hear her footsteps, he only stirred uneasily in his
sleep, pawed the air wildly for a minute or two with
his forepaws, and j^avc a few sharj), but muffled yelps.
He was in full chase after a coyc^tc ; and now he was
squaring old accounts with it.

Then, as noiselessly as a thief in the ni^ht, she
prepared to leave the house. She stood for a moment
in the little passaj^e, and with every sense cjuickened,
listened intently. If any one were to awake now, and
discover her presence, then all her scheming would be
at an end, and the ruin of her fath :r would be ac-
complished. Iler heart thrcjbbed wildly, she could
almost hear it beat, and for a moment a sickening
fear took possession of her as she heard some one
.stir in the next room, and a voice with a nasal drawl
in it quaver out —

" I say, Yorke — darn you, Yorke ! l^y Jimini ! the
beggar sleeps as .soundly as if he was a gentleman
with nothing on his mind ! Show a leg ! I he'rd
them horses just now, an' I'm afeard one of them
must have got its leg over the halter and be
hanging hisself. Get a blanked rustic on, an' .sec
to it."

" Very good, sir," answered the sleepy Yorke. " But
I think it is unlikely ; I tied the horses up myself
last evening, and short, too. But we'll see."

In point of fact Jamie had heard nothing, but having
taken an extra heavy supper, was unable to sleep ;
and, thinking it was a pity that others should sleep

, I

Ii8

SINNKRS TWAIN.

HI I
I - .
1 I

when he could not, decided to rouse up the sergeant.
He had half a mind to wake the other two.

The poor girl heard no more. Silently she opened
the door and passed out into the night.

The sergeant arose, and tying on his moccasins left
the room quietly, so as not to disturb the others.
When he opened the door he was not a little surprised
at the change — the beauty and serenity of the night.
The whole world seemed flooded with a silvery, mystic
moonlight. He was passing the gable end of the
house when he suddenly caught sight of an upright,
dark form that showed imperfectly in the shadow.
His first impulse was to challenge it after the manner
of a sentry ; but an undefined something kept him
silent. Still the figure did not move, and still he did
not know what it was. Then that unaccountable
spirit of curiosity which so often exerts such a strange
power over us — perhaps more noticcuule in the case
of animals — even in the face of danger, possessed him,
and he took a step or two towards it. It was a
human being. As if some sudden intuitive sense
had enlightened him, he went right up to this person,
and gently taking an arm, led him, or her, forward, so
that the bright moonlight might fall full upon the
face. But before he did this he got a glimpse of
a woman's skirt. Still the figure did not utter a word.
He did, and it was a very prosaic exclamation indeed
—•'By Jove!"

And the fearless and beautiful face of Marie St.

WHAT A GIRL WILL DO.

119

Denis, with her soft, expressive eyes, now strangely
bright, looked question ingly into his as he placed his
two hands instinctively on her shoulders, so as to
steady her face, and see who it was. She looked like
some spirit of the night in that dreary solitude, haunt-
ing the little speck of civilisation, so silent was she
and so unearthly her beauty seemed with the pale
moonlight playing on it Then she drew one hand
from a beaver mitt, and placed one slender finger
upon her lips. He interpreted the action. For a
minute — only for a minute — a painful warfare raged
within this man — duty, and something that he would
not admit to himself, but at the same time which was i
very nearly akin to love. But what right had he to
control her actions ? Besides, had he not given her
his word that he would not do so ? Again, was he
doing right in allowing this girl to go out alone upon
the coullee-scarred and treacherous prairie, on to what
might be death ? But what was he, again, that he
should constitute himself her mentor ? As if it cost
him a struggle to do it, he took his hands from off
her shoulders. Turning abruptly, and with what
might have been a curse or a blessing on his
trembling lips, he left her without another word.

When he reached the stable door he turned to look
after her ; but she had vanished as completely as if
she had been one of those beautiful fabled spirits of
the night whom she so much resembled.

! i

CHAPTER X.

A TERRIBLE TIME.

If it had cost Harry Yorke a mental struggle to let
Marie St. Denis go as he did, he did not know that
she who was the subject of it, with her quick, intuitive
sense, fully realised the seriousness of that struggle,
and suffered, doubtless, as keenly as he did himself.
For the sergeant knew that in allowing her to go he
had voluntarily relinquished that career in which he
had distinguished himself, and through which he had
hoped to rise in Her Majesty's service. He felt
himself dishonoured in his own eyes. He felt — so
palpable a thing was his sense of duty — that he
was acting treacherously to that officer under whose
command he now was. He did not try to soothe his
conscience, as many of his comrades might have done,
by telling himself that the brutal and demoralising
conduct of this officer was such that many good men
who had entered the force with the determination
to walk straight and rise in i*- had become so dis-
heartened, and their sense of duty so perverted, that

1 20

A TERRIBLE TIME.

121

to disobey this officer's often questionable commands
was neither considered a disgrace nor breach of duty.
It was not the mere loss in a worldly sense that
troubled him ; this disregard of himself was indeed
what had kept him a comparatively poor man. He
did not attempt to defend his conduct by telling him-
self that he had sacrificed his career for his great pity
for her — which, indeed, was partly the case — for in
his conduct he was conscious of a feeling which, if it
did not altogether partake of that which some men
call " the unselfishness of love," still did not justify
him in acting as he did. For he knew that allowing
her to go meant that she would in all probability meet
with her father and warn him of the presence of the
police, defeat the ends of justice, and bring discredit
on himself. It meant that when his term of service
had expired, in a few months from then, he must look
out for some other employment: he could not remain
in a force that he could not be faithful to. He had
a little money ; by working hard, and with economy,
he might even be in a position to start ranching in a
humble way. At times he told himself that he was
a fool, and asked himself what this girl was to him.
If she had entertained any respect or thought for
him, would she have asked him to as good as sacrifice
himself for her ? But when he thought of a frail girl
going out alone at midnight upon the bleak and
blizzard-haunted prairie, where death might spring
up and claim her at any moment, with the faint hope

L-"

} ./•■.

122

SIxXNERS TWAIN.

of warning an erring father from his danger, he felt
that to thwart such a noble if natural deed were a
crime that more than outweighed all other considera-
tions. No, he was human, but he would again do as
he had done if he had occasion to. Yes, even if he
knew — and, when he came to think of it, she had
given him no sign either one way or another — he
were nothing to her, and, admitting himself in love
with her, he were pursuing an ignis-fatuus.

As for Marie St. Denis, if she thought at all about
the risk she was running in going out as she did upon
the prairie alone, it was now swallowed up in weightier
considerations. True, she knew something of the
treacherous nature of the blizzard — how for a while
it will die awav, and the sun or moon will shine out
brightly again, only to be suddenly obscured as the
treacherous, snow-laden wind swoops down, like a
bird of prey, to seize its hapless victim unawares.
She remembered how, only last winter, a Mounted
Policeman had been caught thus — how he had
wandered round about in that fatal and mysterious
circle, until the stinging, icy blast proved too much
for him ; and with the waning of hope came that
wavering of mind and irresponsibility over one's own
actions which, let us believe, God sends in His mercy.
. . . When his frozen body had been found, some
days afterwards, there was a bullet-wound in his head
and a discharged pistol by his side. He had antici-
pated Death. Though Marie was no fatalist, she was

A TERRIBLE TIME.

12^,

only a woman who was as sensitive as any other
to the terrors that encompass death, and the mys-
terious unseen world ; but she was a heroine in the
truest sense of the word, in that she did not hesitate
to brave death and its terrors so that she might
perform faithfully what she considered her duty.
There was jnly one thing that troubled her ; and the
more she thought of it, the more she saw that in her
anxiety to save her father she had imposed a sacri-
fice on another. She was now painfully alive to the
fact that, in his chivalrous desire to serve her, Harry
Yorke had sacrificed his worldly career, and, what
was doubtless dearer to him, his own sense of honour
and duty. Why had she asked him to compromise
that sense of honour ? Could she not have simply
left the possibility of his non-intc^'^rence to that
vague but oft-times favourable influence men call
" Chance," and thus have saved him ? She knew
that he was a man looked up to and respected by
all ranks in his calling ; but that, in asking him to
do as he had done, she had withdrawn from him
that chance which might have led to his promotion.
Had this been all, it were bad enough ; but she
instinctively recognised that this man valued some-
thing more highly than worldly gain — his own
honour. How could she, she asked herself, who
was only a poor obscure girl, have asked him, who
had been on terms of intimacy with women belonging
to that other great outside world, to do this thing?

, I

1 1

124

SINNERS TWAIN.

For, though feeling she had much in common with
this man, she had looked uj)on him as superior to
herself and apart from her lite, even though he be-
longed only to the rank and file of the North-West
Mounted Police. If pity, as they say, is akin to love,
then Marie St. Denis was in a dangerous way. But
the thought of that father, whom she loved with an
intensity that paled all other considerations, governed
her actions then. With a beating heart, and a mind
that was swayed by conflicting emotions, but in which
there was still a dominant one, she set out on her
errand.

And now she hurried on her dangerous way. For
a mile or so she kept, as best she could, to the long,
narrow, rib-like patches of exposed ground which the
wind had kept clear of the snow, near the banks of
the creek. Occasionally she would spring from one
rib to another ; her idea was to cause the police some
difficulty in finding her tracks when they missed her
in the morning, when she knew the first thing they
would think of doing would be to follow her up.
Considering how long the blizzard had lasted there
was no very great depth of snow, save in the drifts ;
for it is not the actual quantity of snow which falls
that constitutes a blizzard, but the rate at which the
snow that does fall is hurried along and kept continu-
ally in a state of motion by the fierce gale. Perhaps
a blizzard resembles nothing so much as a sand-storm
in the desert. She had the satisfaction of rememberinq-

A TERRIHLE TIME. 125

that a man like her father, who knew tlic prairie so
well, would have no great difficulty in findinfj^ i^round
comparatively free from snow on which he could travel
with the waggons. Then she left the prairie and
made over to the creek, and there slipped her feet
into the buckskin laces of the snowshoes. It was a
species of locomotion at which she wa' an adept ; for
often had she indulged in long, solitary walks thus in
the winter-time. This, perhaps, helped to account
for the purity of that wonderful complexion of hers.
A keen frost had set in, and there was a stillness as
of death over that ghastly and shimmering moonlit
land. She followed the course of the creek ; for the
first two miles she knew every foot of the way, and,
therefore, could avoid the crevasses that intersected
the cut-banks. She knew exactly the route her
father would adopt coming back from Montana ; and
her idea had been to turn him back into United
States territory before the police could catch up on
him. But she had no premonition that the Fates
had decreed otherwise. In order to cause the police
delay when they eventually found her tracks, she
crossed and recrossed the creek at certain places where
she knew the snow lay many feet deep underneath.
(Loudly did the over-eager officer of Mounted Police
curse those treacherous pitfalls on the morrow.) She
wound in and out amongst the thick clumps of willow
and elder. They would have their work cut out for
them who followed in her tracks. She was oiil\-

126

SINNERS TWAIN.

human after all, and she could not help laughing
silently to herself at times when, with vivid imagina-
tion, she pictured the inspector floundering about on
his horse in one of these deep snowdrifts — perhaps
nothing but his moonlike face visible above the sur-
face. When she thought of the use he would put
that unique vocabulary of his to, and the number of
new and choice words and expressions which he
would coin for such occasions, she had actually to
stop to repress the fit of laughter that would fain
have shaken her. But, at times, she would experience
twinges of conscience when she asked herself if it
were right to create delays which might imperil the
lives of those who had sacrificed so much to help her.
When she contemplated such disastrous contingencies
there was an almost pitiful look of terror on her face
that would doubtless have surprised her prospective
victims, could they have seen it. At such times she
thought herself a very wicked creature indeed. Per-
haps, there was a considerable spark of old Mother
Eve in her after all. But the thought of her father
would gradually overcome her scruples, and she
would push on again.

She began to realise she had travelled some con-
siderable distance, and was feeling tired. She sat
down on a rising piece of ground and looked around.
What a weird, unearthly landscape showed up all
around her ! She could follow the dark, uncertain
line of the creek, as it wandered, in an erratic sort of

A TERRIBLE TIME.

137

fashion, away into that mystic and shatlowy hiiul-
scape, until it was lost in dim obscurity. But tower-
ing, as it were, into that starlit other world, she could
sec the three conical peaks of the Sweet Grass Hills
looking down upon that spectral land beneath them.
They seemed very beautiful and grand, very solemn
and majestic. There must have been in Marie St.
Denis* nature that susceptibility to what is beautiful
in Nature — that responsive note which indicates that
the soul is capable of receiving those deeper and
sublimer lessons from God's own handiwork. As she
■f >ked upon these snow-clad peaks soaring heaven-
wards, her whole being was stirred with a sense of
the eternal, and the majesty of that Presence which
created all things. For a brief space the very sight
of these hills seemed to give her fresh strength and
courage. But, alas ! tired Nature would reassert
herself It was the old story of the willing spirit
and the weak flesh. For two nights she had not
slept a wink. Hope had buoyed her up ; but, as
stern reality dispelled hope, the reaction of her
physical body set in ; and subtly and mercifully was
the change brought about. She began to be con-
scious, at times, of being the victim of her own
fancies.

And now she came to a place where she had to
push through a deep, narrow gorge, which opened
out into an amphitheatre-like space where there was
a thicket of cotton-wood trees, and which had been

Ir^

■ I ■

^iif.i

■'! ! 'i

128

SINNERS TWAIN.

used in the old (la}'s as a burying ground for the
Indians. It was a horrible place, and even this
healthy, prairic-bred girl experienced that sense of
awe and fear which will steal over one — unless one
is dead to all human emotions — when one is in the
presence of relics of mortality. This little valley,
surrounded by high banks, had an evil reputation.
Some renegade Sioux or Picgan Indians had some
few years before committed some bloody atrocities
near this spot, and the dead had been buried here.
Upon rude platforms were ranged human bodies
wrapped in buffalo robes and blankets, which were
now coated and crusted with drifting snow. The
great gaunt, scraggy branches of the leafless trees,
and that significant scaffolding with its awful burdens,
when viewed from the froze 1 bed of the creek on
which she walked, stood out with a horrible distinct-
ness against the star-lit sky. Time, or the bears,
had broken down some of these stages, and she knew
that hideous, shapeless a'ld unnameable things lay
strewn arrund and partially buried in the snow. It
was a veritable Golgotha. And now a cold shiver
ran through the frame of the girl as she lifted her
eyes and gazed fearfully up at a number of grinning
skulls which a playful Mounted Policeman, or wander-
ing cowboy of a decorative turn of mind, had fixed
on the scraggy limb of a gaunt and blasted oak tree.
Even as the girl looked there rose a weird, eerie
moan on the still night, and a startling crash that

A TKRRIHLE TIME.

129

drove the blood to her heart, and chilled the surface
of her body. In spite of herself she sank down on
her knees, and claspinj^ her hands before her,
muttered a prayer as best she could. Marie was not
naturally timid ; but that place had an evil reputa-
tion, and the law of association is a powerful thing.
15ut it was only a stray breath of wind, straying down
the gorge, that had caused the moaning ; and the
weight of the snow upon one of these awful burdens
had been too much for the rotten supports, and
had borne it with a crash to the ground. For a
moment she felt as if her strength had deserted her ;
she was left weak and trembling. But the thought
of her father and the danger he was in came to her
aid ; tremblingly she rose from the snow-covered ice
and went on again, but with weary steps.

It grew colder and colder, the thermometer must
have dropped to at least 20° below zero, and King
Frost was doing his best, or worst, to paralyse every
living thing. But still Marie could not be said to
suffer from cold ; she only began to feel strangely
drowsy and at times caught herself walking in an
almost trance-like state. That subtle and fatal land
of forgetfulness, which she knew was exercising \iy
potent spell over her, aroused her to renewed exertion.
At last she passed out of that loathsome valley where
the high ground ceased, and stood once more upon
the banks of the creek on the rolling prairie.

And now, with heavy and ever weakening steps,

ttl

130

SINNERS TWAIN.

the girl ascended a little ridge where she could get a
good view of the surrounding country. Hut as far as
the eye could penetrate in that clear moonlight there
was nothing in sight. She had told herself that at
this point she must necessarily sec some signs of her
father's approach with the teams, and that hope had
buoyed her up till then. She was bitterly disap-
pointed. She had walked for several miles, and now
what was she to do ? Could she go back without
having seen her father, and listen to the low-minded
taunts of the Mounted Police officer ? Or would she
wait there, in the hope that her father might soon
come up ; running the risk of that insidious death-
sleep, which even then threatened her? As for going
back : when she came to think of it, she felt utterly
unable for the task. And now the real nature of
Marie began to show itself. She hardly for a moment
thought of that fate which might so soon overtake
her. She had none of that enervating, half-pitying
compassion for herself in the abstract that some less
unselfish ones have. She did not even regret the
step she had taken, though it now threatened her life.
She only knew that if she had not come on this vain
errand she would have regretted the staying behind
still more. Her only thoughts were for her father ;
but as her eyes wandered over the ghastly prospect,
her heart sank within her.

At last, in the east, the grey dawn was breaking ;
the stars began to disappear, one by one, like lights

A TEKKIIU.K TIMi:.

I3»

in a great cit)- at break of day. A thin, ghost-like
mist began to creep from butte to couilee across the
billowy prairie, like the phantom sea that it was. It
hung low, and converted the tops of the little buttes
and ridges into mimic islands, until the earth some-
what resembled one of those landscapes that the
imaginative mind will conjure up in the clouds. Hut,
away to the left, a couple of miles off, the girl saw a
unique sight. She saw the entrance to the Devil's
Playground : that weird, nightmarish valley, into which
the boldest Indian will not enter, but only gaze upon
fearfully from the brink of the chasm. Constituting
the portals of this valley, the girl saw gigantic pillar-
like masses of vitrified clay that resembled the painted
pillar.*; ' i some vast gorgeous and barbaric old-world
temple. Indeed, the variety and originality of colour-
ing in these pillars was beautiful if bewildering in
effect. Just beyond them lurked, reproduced in
coloured clays, these wonderful freaks of Nature : the
forms of monstrous and grotesque animals, whose
shapes startled one with a suggestion of intelligent
design. From the painted and garish terraces them-
selves projected griffins and gargoyles, just as one
sees them in old and quamt cathedrals, but only
more grotesque and suggestive by reason of their
vivid colouring.

The girl looked longingly towards the portals of
this valley of freaks ; but she could sec no sign of
any living thing near them. She had thought that

^3-

SINNERS TWAIN.

the smugglers might have taken shelter there from
the fury of the blizzard. But had they done so she
thought that, by this time, they would have begun
their journey again so as to pass the police lines ere
the sun rose. " Oh, father, father ! " she cried, and
the unbidden tears started to her eyes.

Then her brain, or old King Death, played her a
strange trick. But not by any means an unusual
one. For those who have been in the very jaws of
death, and have been snatched back, can tell some
marvellous tales. Marvellous because they are utterly
foreign to our preconceived notions of the King of
Terrors. Especially can those who have passed the
Rubicon — the painful stage of mental and physical
suffering — and whose feet have trod the mystic
threshold of the Unknown : whether they are lost
ones on the African desert, in the Australian bush,
castaways at sea, or the vanquished victims of some
fell disease. It is, indeed, a merciful thing, and shows
how wonderfully and fearfully we are made, to think
that the brain comes eventually to our aid, to take
somewhat away from the agony of death, and rob it,
as it were, of some of the terror it would fain inspire.
So now with Marie St. Denis ; for gradually there
stole a wonderful peace of mind — something that
almost approached a physical glow over her ; the
present with its horror passed utterly away, and this
was the vision she had in its stead : —

It was a bright summer's day ; the prairie was gay

A TERRIBLE TIME

»35

and beautiful with its very brightest carpet of green,
and its choicest display of wild flowers. There were
the lilies that outshone the glory of Solomon, and the
pink and clustering roses that glowed as must have
done the roses of Sharon to have made their beauty
scriptural. There were the nodding sunflowers
winking in the gentle breeze, like so many eyes of
fire, the blue larkspurs, the yellow and purple violets,
blue bells and a hundred other flowers, perhaps as
beautiful, but not so familiar as these more common
ones. No wonder they say that on the prairie there
is a flower for every day in the year. Close to the
trail a great waggon is camped, with a white canvas
top to it. Some little distance ofl* the horses, released
from their toil, are rolling in the grass and throwing
their legs wildly into the air in the most grotesque
and extravagant fashion, in their endeavour to roll
from one side to another. And she is crawling about
on the grass, with one hand grasping the gathered
skirt that holds the flowers she has been plucking.
Close to her, on his hands and knees like a great
overgrown school-boy, is her father, with smiles
wreathing that usually sad and austere face. She
had made him stoop down before her, and like the
playful child she is, she has stuck a fringe of flowers
into the band of his broad cow-boy hat, and is now
endeavouring to string a chain of daisies round his
neck. All the children of Eve pursue the same
methods of play the world over. And this grave,

J 5

'\ \

134

SINNERS TWAIN.

bearded man is looking as proud of that chain as if
it were of gold, and she were the heir to the throne
decorating him. As proud? — prouder by far! for
there is no pride on earth to compare to that of a
father in his only child. She is happy as the day is
long. Ay, long — but never too long for them !

Then a sudden shock, and her dream shivered.
She had slipped back into a recumbent position on
the snow, and the sudden movement roused her for
a brief spell. With a lightning-like flash the brain
realised the danger of the situation, and urged the
weakened body to renewed exertion. But it was
powerless to respond.

Was this, then, the end of her young life? — she,
who had cherished such dreams and hopes of the
future. Was she to perish like one of the beasts of
the field, on that desolate snow-bound ridge ? Were
the hire's of the air, and the jackals of the plain — the
prairie and timber wolves — to fight over her poor
body ? A thing so fair as she were rare prey for
such evil-looking brutes as wolves. Even now, far
off but ever drawing nearer, she heard a mournful
and prolonged eerie cry, and she knew that already
a wolf was upon her tracks. >he had a small revolver
on her belt ; but, perhaps, it was not worth while
using it. Poor Marie, well might she pray ; for that
sleep which means death was very close upon her
now.

And then rose up before her that face that had so

A TERRIBLE TIME.

135

often smiled upon her in her dreams, and she knew it
was her mother's face, that dear mother whom she
had lost so long ago that her image had become but
a sacred memory. Then the face of her father, that
face so full of simple tenderness, seemed to look
down upon her, and a struggling gleam of semi-
consciousness shook her for a few minutes with a
tempest of agony, as she pictured him all alone in
the world, without any one to love — without any one
to strengthen or care for him, and with only the
memory of a fitfull- sunny past behind him. Surely
this was the agony and sting ot death.

Death ! — she must rouse herself It was a sinful
thing to let death steal upon her with its subtle
visions and lethargy! She would break the spell;
if she died it would be upon her feet. But, horror!
the muscles of her body refused to obey the com-
mands of the brain. She could not move !

But just before the mists lifted before the rays of
that wintry sun she seemed to hear, as if in the a:r,
but wonderfully clearly and distinctly, that majestic
and triumphant song of adoration, the Hallelujah
Chorus. She had heard it in the convent : it had
haunted her since, and now it came as if to lighten
her end. She heard myriads of voices — beautiful
voices : the silvery voices of women, the voices of
boys, and the resonant and maturer voices of man-
hood, blend together with the pealing notes of the
King of Instruments, until they spoke as one in

m\'

136

SINNERS TWAIN.

harmonious concord : with a sweetness that ravished
her senses, and permeated her whole being.

*' Hallelujah ! For the Lord God omnipotent reign-
eth ! " they all cried together, with one mighty and
resonant volume of sound : with one joyous burst of
triumph and of gladness. And the basses heralding
the clarion-like voices of the sopranos sang, '^ And
He shall reign for ever and ever''

Then the tenors and the basses cried " Hallelujah I
Hallehijahr The silvery altos, and the mellow con-
traltos glided into the ever-growing melody with —
'''for ever, and ever. King of Kings, and Lord of
Lordsr

And that mighty, fugual, soul-stirring chorus rolled
on ; the beautiful lights and shades of the theme
pursuing, meeting, and crossing one another trans-
versely like the shafts of pearly, silvery and rosy
light, that play upon the face of the Aurora
under a Northern sky. It was many-throated, many
tongued, but with one soul only. It was a mosaic
of sound — the voice of the Creator speaking through
the creature.

It was a glorious Pitan — a fitting death hymn
for ore so young and beautiful.

And now, ere that insidious death-sleep dulled
her wandering seiises — robbing iier even of that
land of dreams and shadows, and ere her eyelids
closed over the wells of liquid light, she heard these
words so full of a divine promise —

A TERRIBLE TIME.

137

" Afia tho ivonns destroy this body, yet in iny flesh
shall I sec God.''

Surely the anj^els of Light were bending over her
then — so fair and peaceful her young face seemed,
and hid the grim shadow of the Angel of Death as he
hovered over her.

" But, thanks be to God, who givetJi us the Victory,"
chanted all the voices together.

The lemon-glow that trembled in the east died at
the sun's first kiss. A blush, as subtle as the tender
red that dyes a maiden's cheek, spread over earth
and sky. The stars grew dim, and blended with the
blue. The grey mists lifted from the spectral earth.
That dream of glory round the Ice-king's throne
shivered — the way of dreams.

And then the girl slept.

■

CHAPTER XI.

"GET ON HER TRAIL, PIERRE."

When Harry Yorke, the police sergeant, had gone
to the stable when ordered to do so by his superior
officer, he found that all the horses were lying down
in their stalls, peacefully dozing like so many respect-
able human beings. Jamie had said that he heard
them pounding the cobble-stones violently ; but as
the floor happened to be a mud one, it is only
charitable to suppose that the officer must have
forgotten this fact, and that his imagination must
have been uncommonly active. He waited in the
stable for some little time, and then went back to
the room where his comrades were. According to
his instructions he told the inspector that the blizzard
had ceased. As he had expected, the latter gave
him some fresh orders.

" Then, open the door," said the humanitarian,
*'and wake up Townley and Pierre, and the three of
you keep a sharp look out on the opposite door, so

that none of these women can pass out without you

138

"GET ON HER TRAIL, I'lERRi:."

139

seeing them. Keep pinching the third man so that
you will be able to keep awake."

A fool may have humour which wise men may
laugh over, but the wit of the cruel and crafty is
like a nettle, it has a sting for all. The hand that
crushes is the proper one to handle it

The sergeant reluctantly did as he was ordered ;
the three watchers, putting some fresh fuel on the
fire, began their weary vigil, and Jamie began to sr .re.

All inclination to sleep had been effectually ban-
ished from the sergeant's eyes. How could he sleep
with the thought of that poor girl out upon the snow-
bound prairie ? At times it was very noticeable to
the other two watchers that he betrayed considerable
impatience as the night, or rather the morning, wore
on. Sometimes he got up, and silently paced the hut
— the officer was now sound asleep — and once or
twice he went out and, opening the outer door, looked
into the semi-darkness and listened. Towards morn-
ing, as if his impatience impelled him to action, he
went out into the stable and remained there about
an hour. On coming in again, a gust of cold air, like
a tangible presence and which cut like a knife, came
in with him, and awoke Jamie.

" The deuce " — only he put it more forcibly — " take
you, Yorke ; were you born in a barn ? " snapped the
Amiable One.

" Daylight is coming, sir," said the sergeant, ignoring
his superior's polite request for information.

! I

I40

SINNERS TWAIN.

! I

with you now,
*' Got an attack

" It's coming, is it?" cried Jamie, irritably, and it is
only charitable to say, half awake. " Well, then, let it
come, and be d d to it ! "

At this slightly irrelevant but characteristic speech,
that was delivered in a thick and incoherent voice,
which a man who had been having more to drink
than was good for him might adopt, the scout, in
spite of himself, broke into a loud succession of
snorts which sounded suspiciously.

" What the devil's the matter
Pierre ? " asked Jamie, querulously,
of the colic ? "

" Yes, sir," answered Pierre, gravely. He had just
managed to check himself " And it is a maladie
terrible, and will many times occasion m.e considerable
cistress. The worst of it is, it will proceed for me at
such odd times."

" Humph ! Horses fed ? " asked Jamie.

" Yes, sir ; and stables cleaned out," answered the
sergeant.

(The private and the scout exchanged glances ; but
as it was no uncommon thing in the police force for
non-commissioned officers to turn their hands to, on
, occasions, they thought no more about it.

Just then there came a knock at the door, and the
voice of old Jeannette was heard inquiring; for the
sergeant. She asked the latter if he would come into
the kitchen for a minute, as she wished to speak to
him. The sergeant hastened to grant her request.

GET ON HER TRAIL, PliCRRE."

141

Jeannctte, who was considerably agitated, turned
to hitn and spoke as soon as he entered the kitchen.

" My Marie," she said, " she has gone through the
night — do you think there is any danger ? Ah ! I see
you know of it. Why did you let her go ? She may
perish. Fool that I was not to know she would try it
as soon as the blizzard went down. But it may have
risen again during the night. You must follow up
her tracks, even though it is to fall in with her father.
A/i, ma cherie ! ma pajivre enfant! it is some harm
will come to you ! But I will myself go "

" Steady, Jeannette ! " said the sergeant. ** I will
go." For at that moment the fear that had been
troubling him one half the night took shape and rose
up before him. And that was, if the girl kept on
travelling expecting to meet her father but did not,
and were she unable to return : or a little wind
sprung up that would obliterate her tracks and
prevent them following her, she must inevitably
perish. The thought chilled his heart.

Just then there came a f'' ^us pounding at the
door, and a voice that thck ." was no mistaking
cried —

" Hilloa there, Yorke ! Darn you, Yorke ! What
the dickens is the matter w ith the women ? "

The sergeant went to the door and opened it.

" Nothing, sir," he answered, " only one of them
has gone during the night — Mademoiselle St. Denis."

"What! and us watching the door! Well, of all

14:

SINNERS TWAIN.

the artful young " Ikit for once in his experience

Jamie's vocabulary of opprobrious terms failed to
furnish him with a word vile enough to suit him.
He mumbled strangely. Then surprise and mortifi-
cation silenced him. But, in an unguarded moment,
he pushed past the sergeant, and made for Marie's
bedroom. At the same moment Dick Townley and
the scout, alarmed by the outcry Jamie had raised,
entered the kitchen to find out what all the trouble
was about.

Unfortunately for the officer, he had forgotten the
warning he had received on two former occasions
regarding the entering of the kitchen. And now,
before Jcannette had almost time to recover from
her astonishment, the commissioned cad had entered
the bedroom of the girl, had begun to pull about the
bedclothes, to throw them on the floor, and to get
down on his knees, and peer under the bed.

With a cry and a spring, like that of a wounded
animal, the half-breed woman made for the stove ;
snatched from it a burning fagot of wood ; with her
spare hand seized the iron dipper full of hot water —
which indeed had never been oft the stove — and
darted into Marie's room after the officer. The
sergeant endeavoured to stop her by getting be-
tween her and the officer ; but she thrust the
burning fagot into his face till it singed his mous-
tache and eyelashes.

" Tcnez-vcus la ! Back, you I *' she cried, and the

"GET ON HER TRAIL, PIE

'43

gleaming of her black eyes betrayed her Primitive
fiery origin ; " back, as you value your life ! I
should be sorry to hurt you whom I have no quarrel
with."

And now that ignoble day of reckoning, which all
blasphemers and bullies bring upon themselves, came
to Jamie; and it came at the hands of the sex for
which he had so little respect.

Jeannette surprised the officer in the little room.

" Parbleu ! " she hissed between her teeth.
" Coqiiiyt I You blackguard, low man — you would
dare enter the room of my dear mistress, would
you ? "

" Stand back, woman ! Stand back, you demned
tiger-cat 1 Do you know who I am } " cried Jamie,
the thought of the exalted position which political
influence had won for him suggesting itself to him.
" I am an officer "

Szvish ! went the scalding water over his coarse,
cowardly face ; but he partly saved himself by
throwing up his hands. In a second he had
caught up some bedclothes so as to throw then
over her. But she was too quick for him, and down
came the burning billet of wood upon his broad
shoulders. The sergeant, alarmed 'or the safety of
his superior, essayed another rush in upon her. But
he received a sharp rap on the head — ^just meant as
a gentle hint to him to mind his own business — that
caused him to stagger out of the room again. Dick

/ ./'•

«l

144

SINNERS TWAIN.

""N

Townlcy and the scout merely looked on. They
would hardly have moved one finder to save their
officer from his well-merited disj^racc, even though
ordered to. It was an illustration upon a small scale
of the truth conveyed in these verses of Tennyson's
beginning with —

" He who rules by terror, docth grievous wrong." ^

It is safe to say that if Dick Townlcy felt ashamed of
V the cloth he wore just then, he, otherwise, enjoyed
himself

Then the officer clutched at, and succeeded in
wrenching the billet of wood from Jeaiitiette's hand.
But she pounced on him like the tigress that she
was ; tore his hair, and scratched him after the most
approved style of Chinamen and women in general.
She was a strong woman ; she cuffed and buffeted
him, knocked his head against the wall, and when
at last the sergeant and the other two men thought it
fit to interfere, and pull her off her prey, a more sorrj'
and wretched-looking specimen of humanity than
Jamie could not well be imagined. As the three
men held her, the officer, with a look of mingled
terror and rage on his face, seized the smouldering
billet of wood, and advanced upon her as if to strike
her with it.

" Down with that billet of wood ! " thundered the
sergeant. " Damn it, would you strike a woman
who is being held ? "

" 'KT ON HKR TKAII., I'lKKKK."

They
c their
thouj^h

,11 SCc'llc

nyson's

amcd of
cnjoycfl

:cded in
2's hand,
that she
^hc most
general,
buffeted
nd when
hought it
lore sorry
lity than
;he three
mingled
luldering
to strike

Icred the
woman

Jamie starter! biicU transfixed with astoin'shmcnt.
.Such unparalleled insolence and ra.ik insubordina-
tion he iiad never met with before. lUit he sta)'ed
lii.s hand. That look in the sergeant's eye was
ominously like the light that glowed in that mad
half-breed woman's. He only .stammered —

" Vou heard that, Tovvnley? You lieard what the
sergeant said ? "

" Heard what ? " said the private ; '* I heard him
remind you, in the most humble and ci\il manner,
that you were an officer of the North-West Mounted
I'olice, and that it was a woman you wanted to
strike with a billet of wood, when she was being held.
Oh, I'll swear to that ! "

The officer groaned.

"Pierre," he cried, in a frenzied waj', "you heard
the sergeant damn me ; didn't you ?"

'* I heard you damn the sergeant," answered the
scout, testily ; " and I saw you kick a woman.
I think it would be your wisest plan your tongue
to hold 1 "

" Oh, Je — rusalem ! " cried the officer.

" I would beg of you, sir, to leave the room," said
the sergeant. " You see, we can't hold the woman
here all day ; and I suppose you will want to start off
after the girl."

The .sorely discomfited officer thought — as be-^t
he could — that it was the better thing to do under the
circumstances, and left the room. He was al^io some

: I

f 1 i

/ i

1. 1

146

SIx\NERS TWAIN.

what apprehensive lest Jea\mette should break loose
again, and be after him ; and this was a contingency
to be guarded against. No sooner had the officer left
than Harry Yorke placed the now perfectly passive
woman gently in a chair. A reaction had set in, and
her demeanour underwent a complete change. She
was now indulging in a hearty cry. " Oh, to think
that I should have lowered myself like that," she
sobbed. " But to hear that villain tall: of my young

mistress as he did ," and here she could not find

words to express her indignation.

*' You have made him pay for it, Jeannette," said
Yorke. " And, by Jove ! I suppose it's rank treason
for me to say so, but, as my superior officer, I'm
heartily ashamed of him. Thank goodness I've only
a couple of months more to put in now ; for I could
^ot stand much more of this sort of thing."

In the meantime the scout had gone out and
fetched a supply of firewood in for Jeannette; then
he lifted away the box of ashes for her from her
stove. The trooper took the water buckets and,
taking them to the well, filled them. As for
Jeannette, she was a kind-hearted if impulsive soul,
and these simple little actions touched her. She
was now heartily ashamed of her late outbreak,
being usually the best tempered of women — though
like the best tempered, the most dangerous when
roused — but still she kept lamenting about Marie.
So m order to facilitate matters, and hurry them

GET ON HER TPAIL, PIERRE."

147

< loose
ngcncy
icer left
passive
in, and
;e. She
to think
at," she
y young
not find

;tte," said
k treason
ficer, I'm
I've only
3r I could

out and
ette; then
from her
<ets and,
As for
sive soul,
her. She
outbreak,
n— though
rous when
out Marie,
urry them

out to follow up the tracks of her young mistress,
she herself prepared breakfast for them while they
were saddling up. After a somewhat hurried meal,
they were in the saddle once more, Jamie, by this
time, had somewhat recovered his equanimity : he
thought that by following up the tracks of the girl he
would come upon her father, and make an easy
capture ; this raised his spirits. As he had little
sense of shame, the light in which he had so lately
figured soon ceased to trouble him. The marks of
Jeannette's finger nails, and the place where the
billet of wood had struck him, however, kept on
troubling. They promised to keep the incident
green in his memory for son^e little time. But he
was one of those men whom it is difficult to insult, an
absence of self-respect rendering such a contingency
almost an impossibility. He had, however, sufficient
sense to see that he had not figured in a particularly
creditable light, and that the private and the scout
would back up the non-com. in a matter of evidence.
He therefore determined to bide his time and " land
all three," as he felicitously put it to himself, in some
other way.

" Get on her trail, Pierre," cried the officer ;
" surely, you can track a human being in the snow."

But either the little scout was unaccountably
stupid that morning, or else the girl had shown con-
siderable skill in avoiding the wreaths of snow, for he
wa.sted some considerable time before he picked up

148

SINNERS TWAIN.

her tracks. Indeed, it was not until after he had
a whispered colloquy with the sergeant that he did
so. No very great quantity of snow had indeed
fallen : it was the way it had drifted before the wind
that had given the impression of quantity. How-
ever, it was not so easy to follow up her tracks as
they thought it would have been ; for the girl, as has
been said, seemed to have chosen the deepest and
most treacherous drifts to walk upon, only stepping
on these long strips that the wind had laid bare on
purpose to give them some difficulty in picking her
tracks up again. She had crossed and recrossed the
rugged and tortuous creek in a most exasperating
fashion. The result was that in places which she had
passed over on snow-shoes leaving but little visible
impression, their horses sank and floundered about in
a dangerous manner. On more than one occasion,
the officer, chafing under the delay, and eager to
show the scout that he ,vas not going fast enough,
would put spurs to his horse and shoot ahead for fifty
yards or so. Then, all at once, he would disappear
ill a drift or into the concealed bed of the creek,
where nothing would be seen of him save his bear-
skin cap, and the fine snow-dust flying into the air as
his poor horse plunged and pawed helplessly. How-
ever, Jamie could always be heard. Yuba Bill, or
a Queensland bullock driver could not have ex-
pressed himself more forcibly on such occasions.
The dela}' thus occasioned by extricating him from

"GET ON HER TRAIL, PIERRE."

149

:; had
le did
ndeed
; wind

How-
.cks as
as has
st and
:epping
bare on
:ing her
sed the
Derating
she had
e visible
about in
Dccasion,
eager to

enough,

1 for fifty
disappear
he creek,
his bear-
the air as
y. How-
Da Bill, or
have cK-
occasions.

hin:\ from

such positions was considerable. On one occasion
the scout, whose plan it was to throw his lariat over
the officer's head and shoulders, and thus draw him
out, pulled " rather prematurely," as Dick Townley
characterised it, and the rope tightening round
Jamie's neck nearly succeeded in strangling him
before they realised his position.

But all this time Harry Yorkc was sorely dis-
turbed in his own mind. He knew that if by now
the girl had n(^t met her father, she must be ex-
hausted, and unable to proceed farther. If she had
met her father, say three or four hours before that
time, then, her father and his partner having time
enough, could either hurry past them by some other
route up the coullces which they knew so well, or
else they could throw off the liquor. And if thcjy
were taken empty handed, then the police had no
hold upon them. But if she had not met her f.tther,
and had sunk down exhausted on that shelterless
prairie, might not she have given way to that
insidious death-sleep, and be even now beyond
the reach of earthly succour? The thought struck
through him like a knife. They must hurry on at
any hazards — it was getting on for mid-day now.
His mind was made up, he must speak to the officer.

" I beg your pardon, sir," he said ; " how would it
do to make for that bend of the creek we sec about
three miles off, and cut the tracks. You see, she
must have followed down this creek. It's little use

4 I

IlO

SINNERS TWAIN.

; I

I I

•■ L

losing time, and playing out our horses following it
round. Besides, I am not quite sure if we can do
that anyhow. It's an awkward place — ' Dead-
nian's Gully,* we call it, where some Indians are
buried. I am sure it will be all but impassable just
now."

" Why the dickens didn't you suggest that be-
fore ? " was tlie officer's somewhat unreasonable reply,
seeing that the proposed short cut had only just pre-
sented itself. Then he added querulously, " Blow
me, but it seems I've got to do the thinking for the
whole party. I don't know what on earth would
become of you fellows if you hadn't a man with a
head on him to do the thinking part of the business
for you."

It was just on the tip of Dick Townley's tongue to
utter a pious " Amen " in a spirit of mild sarcasm,
but he luckily recollected himself just in time, and
preserved a discreet and proper silence. As for the
sergeant, he bore the attempted snub as he bore many
others, with a spirit of patient submission, albeit he
could safely have told the officer that he — the inspec-
tor — being in charge of the party, was supposed to do
the thinking.

If Jamie and his worthy compeer, M'Turk (the
enlightened individual who said " a horse's life was of
more importance than a man's," and that " a police-
man was a machine and not supposed to think "),had
been a couple of mules hitched up together in a team,

"(;et on her trail, pierre."

one of them would have backed over a precipice for
the sheer satisfaction of pulling the other with it and
havin»j its own way.

It was noon now, and they had again cut the tracks
of the girl as they approached the creek. They were
making for a little ridge about half a mile ahead of
them, which would command a comprehensive view
of the prairie and the gatewa)- of the Devil's Play-
ground, when the scout, who had been riding in
advance, suddenly checked his horse, and gave a low
whistle. The others " loped " up. In the snow, and
travelling from the south-east to north-west, was a
waggon track.

" Done!" gasped Jamie, growing purple in the face ;
" she's met them, and has given U2 the slip, and
they've made for Medicine Hat. Oh ! by the beard
of Julius Caesar, some of you fellows '11 languish in
Joey Trigot's hotel yet for this."

He spoke frantically, and, it must be confessed,
somewhat confusedly. His remarks regarding the
hotel had reference to those historic quarters under
the tender charge of the provost-sergeant, dignified
by the name of the guard-room, where members of
the rank and file too frequently enjoyed terms of
enforced hospitality for slight breaches of discipline.
Honoured rank and file : Louis Riel, Gaudier,
Racette, and other murderers in these same cells have
partaken of a like hospitality, and cheered you with
their playful remarks as, separated by a half-inch

'i n I

!!!

152

SINNERS TWAIN.

board, you rose in the morning to the exhilarating
strains of reveille.

The sergeant, as if he had not heard the officer's
remarks, spoke.

" But where is the girl ? You see hei tracks go
right on to the ridge. She must be somewhere on
the prairie, for this waggon has crossed her tracks.
She must have gone on long before this waggon
came up, and whoever was in the waggon cannot
have noticed her tracks. The girl must perish if
some one does not follow her up ! "

'* Let her "

But he did not finish his sentence ; the look upon
the face of the non-commissioned officer terrified
him. Bully that he was, he literally quailed before
the " What ! " that thundered from the lips of
the sergeant. But he recovered himself, and
cried —

" You, Pierre, get on this waggon track and follow
it up; and you, Yorke and Tcvvnley, go with Pierre.
Look here, I give you a written order," and, cold as it
was, he took a note-book and pencil from his buffalo-
coat pocket, and, scrawling something on it, threw it
to the sergeant. " That'll protect you," he said. " I
guess I'm running this show, and not you, I'll
answer to Larry."

This was Jamie's habitual way of talking of the
Commissioner, so it v/as not to be wondered at if
there was sometimes considerable disregard paid to

"{.;et on hkr trail, pierre.'

'53

relative rank amongst a certain class in the North-
West Mounted Police Force.

" Then, sir, will you see after the girl ? " asked the
sergeant, respectfully. • " You see, if she perishes,
there will be an inquiry, and, of course — I mean no
disrespect — the circumstances of the case will all come
out."

" Go on, oh, go on ! " roared Jamie. *' None of
your cockneyfied insolence ! I'll stop here in the
meantime — that's more than enough for you. You'd
'octter get a rustle on, and catch up with old St.
Denis, for it's him, beyond doubt."

Jamie chuckled to himself as he watched the party
out of sight. Then he drew a pipe from his pocket,
already charged, and began to smoke. Soon he got
off his horse and sat on the snow. But before long
the intense frost froze up his pipe, and he had to stop
smoking. How long he would have sat in that
enviable, trance-like state peculiar to him it is need-
less to speculate upon, but the coldness of his seat
forced itself upon him in a rather disagreeable
manner. He then led his horse by the bridle rein
and endeavoured to follow Marie St. Denis' tracks,
but he got into a drift and floundered about help-
Icssl)-. (The irreverent private had said that Jamie
in a snowdrift resembled a porpoise in a barrel of
sawdust.) On the still air of that prairie there arose
a choice flow of language that had even the badgers
happened to be out and overheard would have

•If.

'•^

'54

SINNERS TWAIN.

shocked their notions of propriety. At last he <4ot
clear of the drift.

** No use," he said to himself. " Can't follow the
wench up, though I would have liked to. Strikes
me the best thing I can do is to follow Yorke, and
capture the waggon. Guess there will be lots ot
g'/od stuff on board, and a nip wouldn't go bad this

mornmg.

And ID sooner had he come to this conclusion
than he jumped on his horse, and, putting spurs to it,
loped after the waggon, w .ich had evidently been
driven by one who had a thorough knowledge of the
snow-clad prairie, for the tracks meandered along
thf clea'', wind-swept ridges, where travelling was
comparatively easy ; and, while pursuing a certain
course, always avoided snowdrifts and treacherous
spots on either side.

*^V*

CHATTKR XII.

A I'UKSUIT, A CAPTURE, AND A SURPRISE.

It was now well on in the afternoon and the sun
shone clearly out, as he always does in the North-
West no matter how low the thermometer is.
Though there was no warmth in his rays, still they
gave a feeling of life even lO that ghastly, featureless
landscape. The snow glowed and shimmered Hke
burnished silver ; millions of diamond-like crystals
scintillated and sparkled in a dazzling fashion on its
surface. It is this painful glittering of the sun's rays
upon the snow that causes snow-blindness, which
many dwellers in these regions know to their cost.

For some hours the police party had been following
up the tracks of the waggon, but as yet had been
unable to overtake it.

" Mon Dieu ! " exclaimed the little scout at length,
"how they must have travelled ! But overtake them -^
we shall yet ! For the Medicine Hat Ranche they
will make, and, sPicly, their horses cannot travel
farther — ours won't, anj-how. But here comes Mon-
sieur the Inspector."

15s

tsd

SIXNKKS TWAIN.

The sLM-^cant stopped fearfully and looked round.
It was as the scout had said ; it was his superior
officer — and alone. Harry YorUe experienced a
stranj^^e sinking at his heart — where was the <^\r\ ?
And there rose up before him a vision of Marie St.
Denis upon some ridge of that lonely prairie, looking
around wistfully for the succour that came not, and
striving bravely but vainly to resist the spells of
the king of dreams whose realms border on that
land from which no wanderer may retrace his steps.

"Did you not find her, sir?" the sergeant asked
the inspector with a tremor in his voice that struck
the officer as not a little ominous.

"No; I tried to follow up the tracks, but the
snow got so confoundedly deep that I couldn't.
How is it )'ou have not overhauled the waggon by
this time?"

Harry Yorke regarded his superior ahnost stupidly
for a Ccw seconds. The gravity of the situation and
the sense of his own helplessness crushed down upon
him with a sickening force. Then a fit of anger and
rebellit)n at his superior's palpable inhumam'ty seized
him. In another moment he would certainly have
forgotten liimself — have said or done .something tliat
would have given hissu[)eri(T officer his much desired
hold upon him, had not the private pres.sed quietly
tuwanls him, and, with a look of d :ep concern on his
face, whispered .something to him.

" Let's hope that it may be as }'ou say, Dick," he

A PURSUIT, A CAPTrUE, AND A SURPRlSi;. 157

said, in answer, " and there's just a chance that it may
he so. As you say, she is a strouj^ girl and a sensible
one, and would not be lil<cl\' to risk walkintr farther
south than she could walk back again by da)light.
JUit I know what walking in this rare atmosphere
means ; one keeps on walking till one discovers all at
once that the limbs arc plajed out and it is im-
possible to go a foot farth'M"."

** Look here, Ilarry," said his friend, " wc cannot be
very far behind this waggon now. Let us hurr>' up
and overtake it — we ma}- learn something. I've a
presentiment that everything is all right. If not, wi
can go back and find out where the girl is, let Jamie
call it what he likes, rank insubordination or desci^
tion, I'll go with you. We cannot be more than a
fc;\' miles from the ranche now at the outside."

The private's advice, under the circumstances, was
the -lost sensible course to take just then ; the part)-
pushed on again over wind-swept ridges and frozen
sloughs. The travelling was comparatively easy, for
the person who had driven the waggon must have had
a thorough knowledge of the prairie to have chosen a
route that was so free from any obstructions.

To be upon the unbroken, treeless prair' «*♦'
winter-time is for all the world like being at ^c . with
the sun shining on the water. There is the blurred
and seemingly boundless horizon, and there are the
wave-like heights and hollows in the nearer fore-
ground, the former foam-crested and wonderfully

♦^

C- »<■-

158

SINNKKS TWAIN.

natural. It is as realistic as any wintry northern
sea on which the sun has (ieii^ncd to smile for a brief
sj)acc.

Now they loped alon^ a frozen ami tufted rib of
laud, and then they ploughed their way through a
sIou<;h where the lonj; ^rass had cauj^ht and held the
drifting snow, it was a clear, cokl da\'. At one
time in the heavens they saw that remarkable pheno-
menon which is said to herakl a spell of unusually
hard weather, the mock sun with a number of riiiLjs
of light intersecting one another, large and brilliant,
and multiplied with kaleidoscopic effect.

And now the country became more broken ; they
were desccnc'ing the side of a coullec, when the little
scout cried out and pointed to a dark speck, which,
on closer observation, turned out to be a waggon far
out on the plain.

"That's it! that's it!" cried Jamie, excitedly.
" We've got him now ! I hope it's decent whiskey,
for I can do a drop, I can tell you."

"What on earth are you doing?" cried the
sergeant, aghast ; for the officer had made the
private hand over his carbine to him, had dismounted,
and was fixing the sight.

"Why, going to stop that there waggon to be
sure," answered Jamie.

Before the sergeant could stop him, he had knelt
down on the snow and taken aim — piug, there was
a roar that grew and died away again in that

A PUKSl'IT, A CAI'TUKK, AM) A SURI'KISK. 150

a brief

I rib of
•ou'j^h a
held the
At one
: phcno-
luisually
of ritVf^s
brilliant,

cti ; they
the little
k, which,
ggon far

;xcitedly.
whiskey,

Tied the
iade the
Imounted,

)n to be

had knelt
there was
in that

unfettered expanse. Suddenly a l)eautiful conical
jet of snow spurted into the air between them and
the wa^^i^on. It was like a whale spouting at sea,
or a cannon-ball strikini^ tiic water and just
skinnnin^ the surface.

The sergeant heaved a sii^h of relief.
" I would not fire a^ain if I were you, sir," said the
latter, in vain tryinj^ to conceal his indifjnation at the
summary and incriminatinL:j measures which his
sui)erior officer was adopting. " That sort of thinj;
mi^ht have been legal enou;^h a few years ago, but
the country has decreed that a Mounted Policeman
has no more right to murder a man in cold blood
than any other body. What if you had killed the
man in the waggon ? "

Jamie, who had just been going to dilate upon the
splendid direction of the shot he had just fired, tried
to pass the matter off with a miserable and uneasy
laugh. To tell the truth, the shot surprised no one
so much as Jamie himself; for it happened to be a
standing joke with the men that Jamie could not hit
a hay-stack at twenty yards.

But the waggon did not stop, it only quickened its
pace, and the horses were seen to be stretching out
over the level prairie. In another mile or so the
ranche would be reached ; there it would be easy
to throw off a number of small kegs of liquor where
the police could not find them. The sergeant pressed
his heels into his horse's sides and started off at a

i6o

SINNKKS TWAIN.

c.'intcr. Just then the officer's horse stur bled into
a badj^er-hole ; in another second Jamie had (h's-
mounted abruptly and in an unre^imental fashion.
The private and the scout pulled up to assist him.

The sergeant was close upon the vva;^gon. Ik-
could see some one in it reclininj^ on what seemed
to be a bale of robes, but which he reckoned were
ke'^s of whiskey. The person, whoever it was, did
not once turn round to look at him. Another
hundred yards and the ranche woukl be reached.
It was hardly worth while calling out to the party
in the waggon to .stop, for it was already slowing.
In another minute it had turned the curner of a long
straw-shed and pulled up. And now the .sergeant,
tired, and not a little annoyed, jumped off his horsi
and went forward to the waggon-box. Was it
Gabriel, or I'^ran^ois, the former's partner ? Thi-
figure, like all figures in the North-West in winter-
time when travelling on the prairie, was heavily
muffled up.

" Now, then," cried the sergeant, testily, "you ha\i
given us a nice cha.se, haven't you r Don't y(ju think
It would have been just as well for you if you ha<l
stopped whvjn you saw we must inevitably overtaki
you ? "

The figure turned round and looked full upon him,
and there was .something that was almost conscience-
stricken in that look.

Ilarr)' Yorke started back as if he had bec.'ii cfm

A PURSUIT, A CAl'TUKK, AND A SUKI'KISi:. i6i

led into

inid (lis-
fashioii-
him.

on. W^

t scciTicd

lied were

was, did

Another

readied.

the party

r slowini;.

of a Iohl;

seri^^cant,

his horse-

Was it

-ler ? Tlir
in winter-
as heavily

"you havi
y(ju think
if you hail
y overtake

1 upon him,
conscience-

l been con-

fronted with a ghost. It was neitlicr Gabriel nor
J'Van^ois his partner. It was Marie St. Denis iierself !

The .sergeant stared for a minute in speechless
a.stonishment upon her, for he could not understand
how it was .she came to be there. Jk'sides, where
did she get the waggon? and where was her father?
Upon the fair face of the girl, the colour of which
was somewhat heightened, there was neither that
irritating look of .satisfaction which comes from the
knowledge of having outwitted some one, nor yet
was there any apprehension. She looked for a
moment into his face, then dropped her e}es again,
and .said —

" I am afraid you must think very badly of me.
It would be untrue if I confessed myself sf)rry for
what I have done, for I am not, although I regret
the necessity that forced me to do it. Ikit I feel that
I have treated you very badly, and made you a very
poor return for your goodness. I did not mean to
deceive you — personally."

" Don't look at it in that light," he .said, simply.
"But where is your father?" It was his curiosity,
and not his professional zeal that spoke now.

" Safe/' .she cried, as a glad light sprang into her
eyes, "and done with the cursed trade for ever. I
shall tell you all about it another time. But, oh ! I
am .so cold and stiff."

She tried to rise to her feet, but her cramped limbs
refused to act, and she sank down again hel[)lessly.

'V,

162

SIGNERS TWAIN.

" I am afraid I am somewhat in the same condition
as the poor horses," she said, with rather a pitiable
smile ; *' what you might call * played out.' Will you
relent so far as to help me down ? " and her face grew
rather white and weary looking, though she tried to
appear as if tired Nature were not pressing her hard
just then.

To spring up into the waggon and gently catch
hold of her was the work of a minute. " Stop that
cruel talk about relenting," he said, " you have over-
tasked your strength and are numbed with the long
drive. But thank goodness, you are safe ; I thought
you had been left behind upon the prairie ; even now
I can hardly make out how you come to be here. It
is a very mysterious business indeed. But, anyhow,
you are more or less a mystery to m.e. I wish you
were not."

If he had happened to watch her face closely just
then he would have seen that a startled, conscious
expression came into it for a moment, and that she
looked quickly away as if she were fearful of him
seeing it.

He placed her in a leaning position against the
side of the waggon, and jumped to the ground again.
Then he reached over and placed his arms round her.
She lay in them as passively as a child might have
done as he lifted her out and carried her towards
what was evidently the dwelling house ; but before
they reached it the door opened and a man and a

A PURSUIT, A CAPTURE, AND A SURPRISE. 163

idition
itiable
ill you
e grew
ried to
er hard

y catch
:op that
,ve over-
the long
thought
:ven now
here. It
, anyhow,
|wish you

osely just
conscious
that she
1 of him

woman came out. They looked for a moment upon
Harry Yorke carrying his precious burden with not
a little amazement ; then the sergeant spoke.

'* I have brought you a visitor, Mrs. Petersen, but
I am afraid she is rather fatigued. She is wy
prisoner, and you must see that she does not
escape."

Looking at her face just then one would have
thought that she took her position as a captive very
easily indeed, and that she seemed quite satisfied to
remain his prisoner,

•* Marie St. Denis, by all that's wonderful ! " cried
the stout, good-natured looking woman. " Well, well,
now ; and ju^t to think of the number of times I
have told your father to fetch you along with him
when he came ; and to think that when you did
come it should be in charge of a Mounted Policeman !
But I reckon, now tha": we've got you, we'll keep you
for some time. And you, Mr. Yorke ! Well, come
right in, and you can tell us all about it again. Bless
ray soul, this is a surprise ! "

The sergeant followed the good lady, who talked
all the way, into the large and comfortable sitting-
room, put Marie St. Denis on a large couch that was
wheeled up some little distance from the stove, and
went out again to see after the horses. Just then the
officer, leading his lame horse, the private and the
scout came up. The inspector, in spite of his recent
accident, seemed elated at having captured the team.

!■»

.*y/r •Tisv; , W»? V

I I

( !

164

SINNERS TWAIN.

"Well, who is it?" he asked. "St. Denis, or
Francois, or both ? "

" Neither," answered the sergeant, grimly, and with
not a little secret pleasure ; " only Mademoiselle St.
Denis." And he watched the effect of the shot.

*' Eh ? what — what's that you're saying ? " cried
Jamie, staring at him with wide-open eyes and as if
he had not heard aright.

" Well, go in and look for yourself," answered the
sergeant, forgetting himself, and remembering how
the girl might have perished only some tew hours
before through the officer's inhumanity. " If you
had followed up her tracks," he continued, " we might
have been saved this wild-goose chase."

He did not say how glad he was that they did not
follow up her tracks.

" But surely," cried Jamie, with a look of ludicrous
fear and incredulity on his lace as he rushed to the
waggon and clambered into it, " surely, they haven't
sold us ? Where is the whiskey? Why, the waggon's
empty ! Sold, by ! "

"That's so," interrupted the sergeant, coolly,
watching the officer as he turned over the buffalo
robes and searched amongst the loose hay at the
bottom of the waggon. " You see, it's this way :
there must have been two waggons. The girl met
them early this morning and told them about us.
They loaded all the stuff upon one waggon and sent
it on in another direction ; then she must have got

A PURSUIT, A CAPTURE, AND A SURPRISE. 165

into the empty one and, making a circle, cut her old
tracks, knowing that we should follow up the first
track we came to, like the geese we were. She
judged rightly. The other waggon may be at Maple
Creek or Walsh by this time and have unloaded. It
is getting dark now and, anyhow, they're safe
enough. I am afraid, sir, this day's work will
make a very unsatisfactory report — ' captured one
girl and an empty waggon.'"

The sergeant seemed to take a malicious pleasure
in laying the facts of the case ruthlessly before his
superior officer.

" Hold your tongue ! Oh, hold your blanked
English tongue ! " cried Jamie, frantically, and some-
what inconsistently. Then for a few minutes he
plunged around aimlessly, beside himself v/ith
rage.

As for Dick Townley and the little scout, they
were evidently in no way dissatisfied with the turn
things had taken. Even the sorry state of mind their
superior officer was in seemed in no way to damp
their spirits. Indeed, quit" the reverse.

" Let me see that wench," cried Jamie, angrily, as
if seized with a sudden thought. " I'll teach her to
fool the police this way."

He strode towards the house. But the rancher
stood between him and it.

" Mr. Inspector," he said, quietly and dclibcratcl}',
"you don't enter my house : these three gentlemen are

166

SINNERS TWAIN.

welcome to ; I only allow gentlemen into it. I am,
and have always been, friendly towards the police,
and regret this little affair, because 1 have been on
terms c*" intimacy with many of your brother officers
who are gentlemen. But I know you ; the force
knows you to its cost and disgrace ; moreover, the
inhabitants and tax-payers of Canada are getting
tired of supporting such bungling good-for-nothings
as you, who are neither for use nor ornament, and '
who at the most only represent a few votes down
east. Recollect, you wear the Queen's uniform : as a
loyal subject I ought not to lay a finger on you ; but
try and make your way into this house and I'll kick

you out. I will — so help me . There is the men's

shack over there ; you can go into it — it is an)-
amount good enough for you."

As for the representatives of the rank and file
present, it is quite possible that they felt the painful
nature of this speech much more keenly than the
officer did. But this is only what might have been
expected.

As for the little scout, he hummed audibly to
himself, " Victoria, Victoria, witty witty wit pom,
pom,'* and felt as if he stood at least six inches taller
in his niocassins.

But here it is necessary to explain more fully
how Marie St. Denis came to be driving the empty
waggon ; and how she assisted her father and his
partner to evade the police.

A PURSUIT, A CAPTURE, AND A SURPRISE. 167

On that same morning, when she had struggled to
the wind-swept ridge, gazed apprehensively around,
and could see no signs of her father coming : when
her overtaxed energies gave way, and the over-
powering desire to sleep overcame her, it was
perilously near being her last hour on earth. Indeed,
the attendant signs and tokens that are vouchsafed
by the King of Terrors to his victims, were fast being
made manifest to her. " As we live, we die," is a
saying as old as the hills, and as true as the develop-
ment of all things from primary elements : willed and
inaugurated by that Omniscient and Divine Being
who has given man dominion over the earth, and
made him a responsible servant urder Him— a
servant, but a lord of Creation in his own right. It
has been shown how the girl looked towards the
portals of that mysterious valley, the Devil's Play-
ground, and how she could see no signs of help
coming from them. But there was help there if she
only could have known of it. In the lee of a semi-
circular wall of fantastically coloured clay, surrounded
by a scraggy growth of willows, and within fifty
yards of the entrance, a couple of teams were camped.
Grouped together in another sheltered spot a little
farther up eight or nine horses were standing round
the last of some baled hay, and seemed in no way
inconvenienced by the coldness of the weather ; the
broncho-bred equine of the North-West, with his
shaggy coat and sturdy constitution, will " rustle " for

•M

1 68

SINNERS TWAIN.

1 1

I I

himself and grow fat in the winter-time when eastern-
bred horses will perish. There was a tent close to one
of the waggons, and two men in it had just finished
breakfast. There was a tiny portable stove in the
tent, and a small pile of wood handy.

"Well, Frar -^is," .id ^ne who was no other than
Gabriel ot. Dc^ms " it's a.> well we made this place
before the bli..zai i k.iii up; but as it is, no perticlar
depth of snow has fallen. ., guess I'll just go out and
tek a leetle look round. Then we kin hitch up and
travel up Wild Horse couUee — I could find my way
blindfolded than"

" Tres dietty" said Francois. ** Put the saddle on
Jacques then, and choose a road out of these 7^iau-
vaises terres pour traverser. In the meantime I will
the decks clear, and the horses hitch up until you
come. I will leave the tent till last thing."

In a few minutes more Gabriel was on the back
of Jacques and was standing ci the elevated ground,
just outside the portals of the mysterious valley.
The latter, indeed, was a good place to have taken
shelter in : a regiment of soldiers might have passed
within a stone's throw of them and missed them.
Keenly Gabriel scanned the ghastly stretch of snow-
clad prairie. Suddenly he started. What was that
black object on the crest of that lonely ridge ? What
was the meaning of that dark speck hovering in mid-
air on balanced pinion just above it } And what was
the meaning of that slinking, furtive, feline-like brute

A PURSUIT, A CAPTUKE, AND A JSURl'KISK. i6y

that approached the thinpf on the ground with malig-
nant trcaci, and by a;* ever narrowing circuitous route:
every now and again stopping to raise its fanged and
wickcd-louking snout, to p:ick its wolfs ears as it
looked around, to sniff '.he air, and see that the coast
was clear "^

*' For where the carcase is " said Gabriel to

himself.

It was a remarkable presentiment that took posses-
sion of him just then, liut, whichever way it was, .«„
terrible thought no sooner flashed upon him tha. he
dug his heels into his horse's ribs and darted tt>'« ai.'s
that dark object.

" God help me if it is so ! " he cried aloud.

And perhaps it was the few minutes of apprehen-
sive agony which followed, that made him so amenable
to the dictates of conscience and the voice of his
daughter afterwards.

It was indeed Marie who had sunk into that
slumber from which she might never have awakened.
He was just in time, and, flinging himself from his
horse, he pulled off her mitts ; but her hands had
not been frozen, so he chafed them between his own.
It seemed almo.st a pity to awnken the girl ; there
was such r. look of contentment on her face. Then
he called on her by name, and she opened her eyes.
It was a strange thing that she seemed in no wa}-
surprised to see him there ; she merely said, " Then I
did not dream I saw you coming from the Devil's

170

SINNERS TWAIN.

Playground, father; I have heard and seen such
stranj^c thin^js."

"Thank God!" said Gabriel to himself piously —
smuggler and all that he was. He had a shrewd,
uncomfortable guess what brought her there.

" But you must not lie here, Marie. You must
come over to the tent and have .some hot tea. Can
you stand ? "

He raised her to her feet ; but she would have
fallen had he not placed his arm round her. He
caught her up, and placing her upon the back of his
horse, took her as quickly as he could over to the
camp.

The bird of prey, that had been wheeling round her
head in ever narrowing circles, hovered undecidedly
around for a minute or two, then shot off in disgust
to look somewhere else for his breakfast. The wolf
ascended the little ridge and sniffed around the spot
where the girl had lain, then, partly raising his head,
gazed after them with relaxed, drooping jaws and
sullen, wondering eyes. Then he raised his head still
higher and yawned horribly, till one could have seen
the bluish ribbed roof of his mouth, and counted
every gleaming yellow tooth in his head. One would
have shuddered to see the almost human expression
of baffled cunning and design that the face of the
brute suggested. He, also, would have to look some-
where else for his breakfast.

Once in the warm tent and refreshed by some hot

A PURSUIT, A CAPTUKK, AND A SURIMUSi:. 171

tea (there is no stimulatit so safe and lasting in its
effects after exposure as tea) and soincthiii}^ to eat,
Marie felt little the worse of her journey. Hut before
she had taken anythinj^ she had set their line of
action before them. She had told them, as they had
guessed, what brought her there.

" You must either go back to the States, father,
with the cargo, or else go on to the ranche, alone and
empty-handed. Hut whatever you do, this business
must cease here, now and for ever," she said, deter-
minedly.

"You're talking nonsense, child," said Gabriel.
" Wc kennot recross the Milk River Ridge now.
Hesides, the cargo's worth over two thousand dollars,
and we ken't afford to throw it away. We must
scheme so's to pass through somehow."

" Do you think, father," said the girl, indignanth',
and showing, as honest Fran<^'ois, Gabriel's partner,
noted, that there was a strong suggestion of a chip of
the old block in her, '* do you think for a moment
that I begged the help of one, before whom I had
to sacrifice my pride, for the sake of enabling you to
still further carry out your schemes .<* No ! ten thou-
sand times No ! " — she stamped her foot as if she were
commanding a subject, and looked her father steadily
in the eyes — " I came to save you from yourself, father.
I did not come to help you to cheat the police. You
must do as I bid you, and quit this place for good.
You ma)' excuse yourself as you may, but you are

172

SINNERS TWAIN.

committinj^ an injustice on mc. Would you have
done this had my mother been alive ? "

Siie had never sjjoken hlv-e this in her life before to
her father, and he stared at her wonderinyly. There
was one who had died when Marie was a mere child
— whom he had often seen live again in the girl's
eyes, and now he saw the mother live and speak in
the person of the woman ; trembling, he passed
one hand before his eyes so that he might shut out
the sight. But her voice still rang in his ears, and he
felt like one who is detected in a crime. Perhaps
Gabriel had never realised the error of his ways as he
did then. As for Fran9ois, who was a bachelor and a
good-hearted man, though he secretly admired her
spirit he could not comprehend her scruples. But
women to Francois were mysterious and inexplicable
creatures at the best, and he had long since given up
trying to understand them. Though he thought, in
his simple, honest way, that there was nothing so
particularly dreadful in being tyrannised over by
such a girl as this particular one before him, still
he felt thankful to Providence that he was yet a
bachelor, and free from the annoyances of petticoat
government.

" But," argued Gabriel, weakly and irrelevantly,
" it won't do to leave the whiskey here. S'posin' the
pleece git it, we're goners both. We ken't cache it ;
fur in this snow they'd spot it only too quick. Wc
must git a rustle on, an' git through with it. Francois
ken't go on hisself "

A PURSUIT, A CAPTURL:, AM) A SURI'RISK. 173

" Tencz-vous la ! " interrupted Fran(5'()i.s, *• I kin."

•* Now, listen," said Marie, "there is only one thinj;
you can do. Put all the wretched stuff on one
waggon — if half of it did not belong to )'ou, Franc^ois,
I'd make father spill it — and you, Fran(^ois, take it
anywhere out of the way. You, father, had better go
back, and on foot, to the ranche ; for to-morrow the
police will make back and find you there. If you are
found without contraband goods they cannot interfere
with you. I shall take the empty waggon in two
hours' time from now, and going back cut my own
tracks. The police will at once follow up the waggon
tracks, and I will make straight for the Medicine Hat
Ranche ; knowing every foot of the way it need not
take long ; but it will take so long that they will not
be able to go farther to-day. By to-morrow you ought
not to care who finds you."

** Good girl," said Fran(^ois, in admiration. " Jl/on
Dieu, what a smuggler you would have made ! "

Poor Fran9ois, it was the only compliment he
could think of just then ; men are such stupid
creatures sometimes. However, this proposition just
suited him ; he could push on up Willow Creek, and
round by the head ot the mountain, now that he
knew where the police were, without any fear of inter-
ruption, and . ith four good horses he could make
Walsh sometime that night. He knew every foot of
the ground. As for Gabriel, he could do without
him ; it were better that he should go home, and

i" ■•

!jr^

: fl

' 1

!■ !

COMM

174

SINNERS TWAIN.

when the poh'ce found him there it would be better
for both of them. They would not know what to
make of the affair. The girl was a good, brave girl,
and what she had done, and what she offered to do,
was what ninety-nine girls out of a hundred would
neither have thought of, nor yet attempted, Fran9ois
loyally seconded her proposition.

*' But, Marie, you ken't go alone : you must let
me go with you," said Gabriel.

" There is no danger," said the girl. " The police
will not be at any time so very far behind me should
anything go wrong. Now, go and do as I have told
you ; let me sleep for an hour or so and I shall be
able for my work. You can have th(? horses hitched
up and ready for me before you wake me."

And then the girl lay down in the warm tent — for
a tent with even the tiniest stove in it is a very warm
abode in the coldest weather, contrary to what some
might think — and slept a refreshing and safe sleep.
As for the two men they had no time to lose. They
put the dutiable goods into one of the waggons, and,
hitching up four of the best horses into it, Frangois
started off. Having hunted the buffalo and the deer
for years in the country he had to travel over, it is,
perhaps, unnecessary to add that by nightfall he had
safely got rid of his cargo alongside the main line of
the Canadian Pacific Railway.

Gabriel watched the girl while she slept, and now
that Fran(/)is had gone, find he was alone with his

A PURSUIT, A CAPTURE, AND A SURl'RISK. i

- better
what to
ive girl,
\ to do,
;d would
Francois

must let

he police
le should
have told
I shall be
IS hitched

tent— for
/cry warm
vh^i some
safe sleep.
>se. They
roons, and,
t, Francois
d the deer

over, it is,
fall he had
lain line of

t, and now
ic with his

own thoughts, he had a bad time with them. He
had told himself, over and over again, that all the
illegal adventures he had been connected with, that
all the money which, somehow, he had lately got so
fond of amas.dng, were all for the sake of Marie,
and that she would be benefited in the end. But now
— and the thought startled him with a painful im-
placability — what if this last uncalled-for adventure
had cost Marie her life, what then had been his gain ?
Would not all the money that he had been striving
after for years be so much dross to him, and hateful in
his sight? Would his case not be like that of the
man who, in gaining the whole world, lost his own
soul ? He pictured her as he had seen her lying on
that ghastly ridge, sleeping that sleep that might
know no waking. Surely in his finding her then there
was the finger of Providence pointing to a solemn
warning. How near, how terribly near, that dread
realisation it had been. He could bear the thought
no longer, and sprang to his feet. Then he fell on
his knees, and in that tent, and in the presence of
his sleeping daughter, he grovelled in an agony of
shame.

He uttered a few broken and imperfect words ; but
they died upon his lips. How could a man like him
dare to pray ? Was it not like mere blasphemous
|)resumption on his part to thank God for her
deliverance ? Not that he m his heart had looked
upon the traffic he was engaged in as a grievous sin ;

■ '' «ia i

i|'

; 1

fll

176

SINNERS TWAIN.

but what right had he, as a father, to risk the life and
happiness of his child ? If he, in his sense of what
was right and what was wrong, feared in his humilia-
tion, to ask God for forgiveness, then, perhaps, there
was some virtue in his abnegation, for he rose from
his knees a better man.

Then Gabriel hitched up the horses into the
waggon, and soon the girl awoke of her own accord.
She drank .some hot tea, and partook of some food,
and, as she herself declared, was " fit for any amount
of exposure and fatigue." But she was adamant
when she refused to allow her father to accompany
her.

" You must wrap me well up in the robes, dad,
and make your own way back to the ranche. I know
every foot of mine ; have I not driven on the prairie
scores and scores of times ? "

He wrapped her carefully up as he was bid ; then,
with sad misgivings, he saw her drive off. He
watched as, with skilled hand and practised eyes, she
guided the horses by a circuitous route back to where
she cut her own tracks ; and long after, when horses
and waggon had become a dark wavering speck on
the prairie, he kept gazing after her. He did not
leave that elevated spot he had climbed to until
about an hour and a half afterwards, when he saw
the approach of the police party. When he observed
them get upon her trail and follow it up, he knew
that she was safe, and now he could go on his way.

A PURSUIT, A CAPTURE, AND A SURPRISE. 177

life and
of what
humilia-
ps, there
Qse from

into the
n accord.
Dme food,
y amount
adamant
xompany

Dbes, dad,
;. I know
he prairie

bid ; then,
off He
d eyes, she
c to where
hen horses
speck on
^e did not
d to until
en he saw
ic observed
p, he knew
)n his way.

He slipped on the snowshocs she had left with him,
and made a bee-line back to the ranche.

Next daV; when the police party made back to
Gabriel's place, they met him on his way to bring
back the empty waggon that Marie had driven off.
But they could not interfere with him. The drifting
snow in the night had obliterated all tracks ; and,
perhaps, they knew it was useless asking him ques-
tions. Dick Townley avers that he savv the sergeant
take Gabriel out on the prairie, and if the latter
"ever got a wigging in all his life, he got one then."
The youthful trooper also remarked that Gabriel
never lifted his head when Harry Yor ce was hotl>'
declaiming, but kept it sunk on his breast as if he
knew he were getting something that he dcscr\-ed.

As for Marie, it has already been shown how she
led the police a prett)' dance. It was a unique thing,
truly, for a girl who, only a few hours before, had
been perilously near that bourne from which no
traveller returns, to be guiding a waggon over the
prairie, and indulging in all sorts of speculations.
But such are the recuperative powers of )outh and
sleep that, when one comes to think of the circum-
stances, there was nothing so very remarkable in it
after all. Truly, as the sage said, Woman is a man)--
minded creature. It would have puzzled the sage still
more to have followed the erratic train of thought
which Marie St. Denis indulged in durinc that
long drive ; for Marie's was a complex mind. Who

178

SINNERS TWAIN.

would have thought, for instance, that one minute
after becoming preternaturally grave, as she specu-
lated on what Harry Yorke would think of her when
he discovered what his premise to her had entailed
upon the police party, she should then indulge in
a mind-picture, in which the gallant police officer
figured prominently. She thought she saw his lace
when he made up upon the team, and discovered
that instead of capturing her father and a cargo of
whiskey, he only found a girl and an empty waggon.
She even laughed merrily to herself when she
pictured that face. But she had to keep the horses
up to their work so as not to spoil the picture by
any premature disclosure.

As has been hinted at before, the girl's ever-chang-
ing face was a reflex of her mind, and it was a
complex one ; for, while her natu'/e was unselfish,
and had a great capacity for good, there was a con-
siderable spark of old Mother Eve in her after ail.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE PULMAN AND THE SNOW-CI.AD I'RAIRIK

A COUPLE of Mounted Policemen are standing on
the wooden platform of the Canadian Pacific Railway
at Medicine Hat, awaiting the arrival of the east-
bound train which is to take them to headquarters at
Ref,n*na, the capital of Assiniboia. One is the
sergeant, Harry Yorke, and tne other Dick Townley,
the private. They are .somewhat differently dressed
now that they are travelling per rail. They wear
bear-skin caps with yellow badges, fur coats —
concealing the dragoon's showy scarlet tunic —
dark-blue riding breeches with a \'ellow stripe, and
long, brilliantly-polished top-boots ; for the we ler
is hardly cold enough for moccasins. Standing tear
them is Pierre, the fat, bright-eyed little scout, v. ith a
somewhat lugubrious expression on his fiice, k ping
his eye on a bulky and somewhat dilajiidatec' bundle,
which contains some spare wearing apj^arel that he
will on no account have put into the freight van —

risky and mysterious receptacle in Pierre's eye> — but

179

1 80

SINNERS TWAIN.

will insist on lugging about with him, so precious is it
in his sight. The two policemen are, if not actually
under arrest, yet going to headquarters for safe
keeping, until certain charges that are to be brought
against them by Inspector Bounder are investigated.
The little scout is going down to give evidence, and
to be made use of by doing a little horse-breaking at
the same time, much against his will.

And now up comes the ,avy train, and they get
into one of the long, rather over-heated cars, divest
themselves :>\' their overcoats, and prepare to make
themselves as comfortable as circumstances will
jjermit. The great bell on the engine clangs, and on
they go again.

What immense precipitous cut-banks of clay over-
hang the frozen bed of the Saskatchewan river. How
typical the wooden and painted Mounted Police
post looks on the ojjposite bank, with its tall flag-
staff in the centre of the square, Harry Yorkc re-
garded it somewhat sadly! "Good-bye, Old Fort."
he said ; " I spent some happy da\s in you." He
knew he would never be in it again — at least in an
official capacity.

Then, with a loud shriek, the train left the
.Saskatchewan valley, and made a dash at the heavy
grade that ascends through the rather pretty valley of
Ross Creek into the open prairie a mile or two farther
on. In twenty minutes the>^ were out again upon
that ai)parcntl}' unbroken and boundless expanse of

THE PULMAN AND THE SNOW-CLAD PKAIRIK. i8i

)us is it
ictually
or safe
brought
itigated.
nee, and
aking at

they get
rs, divest
to make
ices will
s, and on

:lay over-
/er. How
xl Police
tall flag-
Yorkc re-
31d Fort,"
^•ou." He
east in an

left the
the heavy
y valley of
two farther
igain upon
expanse ot

ocean-like prairie, and bowled along a track whicli is
so level, so straight, and so apparently limitless that
to look along it to where the rails become one and
meet the horizon line, seems to be looking upon a
band of steel that girds the world. Away to the
south one could see the broken outline of the Cypress
Hills keeping watch over the surrounding country.
Sixty miles more, and the little town of IMaple Creek
is passed, with its stone store — a rather rare thing on
these prairies— and two little wooden churches.
About a couple of miles to the south, painted white,
and just beyond the maple-fringed creek that runs
into the prairie, are the Mounted Police barracks.
At the station, as at most others, the greater [)art of
the population turned out to witness the great event
of the day — the arrival and departure of the car.s —
and then the train hurried on again. Several miles
farther on another station — Colley. Hut there was
nothing at this point save a water-tank and the
eternal section-house ; not another house in sight ;
nothing but rolling, snow-clad prairie, and a broken
fringe of straggling undergrowth marking the course
of the winding creek. Here Harry Vorke looked
out somewhat thoughtfully. He could remember
when the Governor-General of Canada was travelling
through the country, how he had stopped at this
point on the previous autumn, and he had made one
of the little party who had met the Governor's
special train that had been side-tracked, to permit of

i8a

SINNERS TWAIN.

their enjoying the shooting of some prairie chickens,
and a scamper on horseback. Poor Oliver Morphy,
his comrade on that occasion ; the dark, cold waters
of Lake Winipeg, only a few months before, had
claimed a staunch comrade and as leal a heart as
ever beat in human breast.

(Light let the turf, under which you were at last
laid, rest upon your breast, dear comrade : for your
memory is ever with us as green as it in springtime.

In that mysterious land to which wc all arc
jourr "ying, if there be such a thing as a reunion with
those who have gone on before, may wc meet )'ou
there, and feel again the hearty, firm grip of your
honest hand. From this side the chasm that yawns
between the finite and the eternal, and which death
alone can bridge, our hearts go out to you, our all too
feeble voices greet you : Was Jiiel — Was liiel !

Ai i' you young de Beaujeu, who perished with
him : a worthy representative of a worthy race — our
loyal fellow subjects the French Canadians. Peace
be with you.)

There were quite a few passengers aboard the
train, albeit it was the dull season — a few bagmen, one
or two disappointed emigrants returning from British
Columbia, Seattle or Tacoma, a contingent of naval
men from Esquimault, a few Australians who had
come by the Yokohama route, a few ranchers from
Alberta going east to visit their friends \\\ Lower
Canada, and a few belonging to that nondescript

THE rULMAN AM) THE SNDW-CLAI) I'KAM^IE. 183

genus, the representatives of which are onl)- to be
found in perfection on the American Continent. Tlic
business of such men hes in cheap and remarkable
commodities of a novel and original nature, and in
the advertising columns of cheap newspapers : the>'
live by their wits and on the absence of them in
other people. Judging b\- tl\e fact that the)- always
seem to have plenty of mone)', they must be ver\'
wise men indeed, and the people they do business
with must be vcr)- groat fool.s. The Canadian Pacific
Railway somewhat ixjsembles the Suez Canal: it is
one of the world's groat highways, and a place where,
figuratively speaking, all sort.< and conditions of
strange crafts aiv congested. The student of human
nature has as motley a crowd to study from as he
could well find brought together, in a like space, in
any |.)art «.>! the world. Moreover, the series of large
Pulm-an cars which permit of the traveller passing
from one to the other, and joining any little particular
part\' which he thinks he may safely venture into,
makes what might otherwise be a somewhat long and
tedious journey an fift-times entertaining, and by no
means unpleasant one.

Despite the rather vague charge of neglect of duty
that led to the frustration of the ends of justice, and
which the sergeant knew was hanging over him, he
did not allow the fact to interfere much with his
peace of mind. Indeed, so far as Harry Yorkc was
concerned, he had a shrewd suspicion that as he had

mmmam

< i

184

SINNERS TWAIN.

some time aj^o not sent in his notice for rc-cngage-
ment (seeing his term of service cxpir^-d In about a
month's time), it was just as likely a^ not that he
should find himself shipped away before tiicn to one
of the farthest outposts of the far North — to Onion
Lake or th>^ Peace River, where he would be entirely
out of touch with the world, and from which (if he
did not re-engjige again) it would cost him a small
fortune to get back to the main line of the Canadian
Pacific Railway. This was one of those unpleasant
little mysteries that occasionally cros.sed the path of
• the North-VVest Mounted Policnman. As to whether
his arch enemy, Inspector Bounder, succeeded or not
in having him reduced to the ranks, was now a matter
of comparatively little moment. He knew that, in
any case, he deserved it. He would not excuse him-
self in his own eyes ; and though he knew that if he
were placed in a similar position again he would do
exacdy as he had done, he realised, all the same, that
no man has a right to allow a selfish love — or call it
/ what you will — to divert his steps from the straight
( y path of duty. True, it would gall him in a way that
^ onl\- one who has striven for and earned his stripes
can feel, to find them rudely taken from him for
" disgraceful conduct," as the powers that be arc
plea.sed to term it with a sublime indifference as to
whether the oPence has ari.sen from an error of judg-
ment or wilful neglect. True, it was considered an
understood and no disgraceful thing in the force for

THK I'ULMAN AND THE SNOW-CLAI) PR AIKIIC. 185

a man when put upon his trial to make the l)L'st even
of a bad case ; and be it said to the credit of the
<^reater bulk of the officers, they generally ^avc the
arraigned one the benefit of a doubt.

But all these things were of comparative unim-
portance compared to the one great thought that had
gradually grown upon and taken possession of him —
what about Marie St. Denis, that girl whose beauty
had not only contrasted so strongly with her strange
surroundings and gained upon him, but whose mnate
nobility of mind, and capacity for self-sacrifice, had
aroused in him the spirit of admiration, and then
the inevitable further development ? What was
he to do about her ? How was he to hear of her ?
He knew her father had all but completed
arrangements to sell out everything, make his way
south into the States, and then, with that nomatlic
spirit of his, and the pride of the girl, it would be
a very natural thing indeed for him to lose sight of

her altogether. Ar^d then ? But would it not

be better so — better that he should never see her
again ? Had he dreamt of such a contingency when
he first saw her — of doing such a mad thing as fall in
love with her, he would have turned his back on her
right there and then. Could he, a man who belonged
to a very different sphere of life from that which his
present occupation would have denoted, who came
of a family of considerable standing, all}' himself—
assuming, of course, what he had no right to assume

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

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1 86

SINNERS TWAIN.

}\)\

that the girl herself were willing — to the daughter
of an illiterate adventurer and smuggler whom he
would be ashamed to be seen with in public, even
although the name of the man in question was St.
Denis.

Then he asked himself what his family would say-
when they came to hear that he had made, what they
would naturally consider was an undesirable con-
nection? But again, he put the question to himself:
was it not just like the selfish want of consideration,
peculiar to relatives in general, to wish to control his
heart's most sacred promptings, when they would not
move a hand of their own free will to enable him to
earn a crust of bread ? True, they had loaded him with
gratuitous advice many a time: sage admonitions
bristling with hoary old saws, when they thought that,
figuratively speaking, it was just possible he meant
" to kick over the traces," when a gentle guiding hand
was all he wanted ? Had they not even ignored his
existence altogether, when they feared that a closer
acquaintanceship might mean some slight demand
upon the plethora of their own resources ? He was
no cynic or pessimist, although he knew that sweeter
far a crust of bread and independence than the good
things of this life under the uncompromising name of
charity. For in the humbler paths of life that he had
trod, he had met with those who, to the full, realised
the noble truth of that saying, "It is more blessed to
to receive." God help the shallow souls

give than

THE PULMAN AND THE SNOW-CLAU PRAIRIE. 1S7

: daughter

whom he

ubiic, even

on was St.

r would say
:, what they
irable con-
to himself:
)nsideration,
» control his
y would not
lable him to
ied him with
admonitions
:hought that,
le he meant
^-Hiding hand
ignored his
that a closer
sht demand
es ? He was
that sweeter
lan the good
sing name of
e that he had
full, realised
ore blessed to
shallow souls

who sneer at the story of the widow s mite ! they
want help — badl}-.

But this were weighing the question from a material
point of view — disposing of it by a selfish and sordid
standard. Yes, even if his family said to him, " you
must not marry one in such and such a station of life ;
you must marry one in ours ! " and would not help
him to attain to that position in life which would
enable him to do so. Still, that was no reason to
make him persevere all the more in his obvious
course. Admitting the oft-proved disastrous results
arising from a man being led away by a transient
passion, and marrying one beneath him in moral,
mental, and worldly respects, thus debarring all the
essential welding effects of affinity — was she not, after
all, in most respects his equal .''

He felt, indeed, that in many respects she was in-
finitely superior to him. So far as her own person-
ality was concerned, she had a face and a manner that
would distinguish her in any sphere of society : there
was little difference between her and any well-born
and cultured Old-Country girl. So far as dress and
certain little unorthodoxies of manner were concerned,
she had a mind that was quick to perceive and
assimilate ; these imperfections — if such they could
be called — were, therefore, not insuperable objections.
Moreover, she was a born gentlewoman although she
had been reared in a \o<z house and her father had
only been a species of adventurer, and smuggler to

i88

SINNERS TWAIN.

i >

boot. Moreover, had she not been partly brought up
in a convent, and received as deep and comprehen-
sive an education as would put the expensive, orna-
mental, and often superficial so-called finished educa-
tions of some of Britain's fashionable ladies' colleges
to the blush ? Colleges, where a confused and
meaningless reference to certain art topics, a few glib
references to Herbert Spencer, or the prevailing quasi-
ethical or scientific fad of the day, passes for erudi-
tion. Besides, she bore the name of St. Denis. But,
after all, had things been different : had not this cold-
blooded calculating way of weighing all the possible
contingencies militating against his desire to possess
her been satisfactory, it is possible that he would have
been but little influenced by them. At least he had
come perilously near that stage. The question that
exercised him most now was — did she care for him "^
Think as he might, she had given him no sign what-
ever of either positive liking or dislike. Then his
pride came to his aid, and the thought of a previous
experience to his mind — was he, then, going to stake
his happiness by surrendering himself to the caprice
of any woman ? He would see if a little delay would
not work a change in him. The bustle of Regina
would enable him to forget her — if he could.

Then the east-bound train rattled on past Crane
Lake, Gull Lake, Goose Lake, these stretches of
water being now indistinguishable from the leagues
of monotonous rolling prairie by reason of their ice-

THE PULMAN AND THE SNOW-CLAD PRAIRIE. 189

rought up
imprehen-
sive, orna-
led educa-
is' colleges
fused and
a few glib
iling quasi-
5 for erudi-
(enis. But,
)t this cold-
;he possible
2 to possess
would have
east he had
ucstion that
ire for him "^
o sign what-
Then his
a previous
ing to stake
the caprice
delay would
e of Regina

uld.

past Crane

stretches of

the leagues

. of their ice-

bound and snowy mantles. Evcr}^ little station-
house they passed was exactly like its neighbour.
That is, a weather-boarded and gabled two-storied
building, painted a warm brown colour, a strip of
wooden platform, in front of which were two steel
rails which seemed to go out and on into infinite
space, and a row of telegraph poles, which dwindled
away at the horizon line to a well-defined point,
offering one of the finest lessons in perspective that
the youthful and inquiring mind could possibly have.
To the unthinking mind, perhaps, this journey over
the prairie may be a monotonous one ; but to the
thinker and the lover of Nature in her many moods,
the spirit of grim utilitarianism, in the presence of the
engine that hurries him along, is lost sight of ; there
is, instead, a realisation of that glamour which sur-
rounds our youthful conceptions of the illimitable
new-world prairie lands — where from the rising to the
setting sun the picturesque Red man and the count-
less herds of buffalo reigned supreme. It is more
than a glimpse of that mystic prairie whose very air
is pregnant with romance, and which will stir the
blood in the veins of youth, and fire the imagination
of old as well as young for all time to come— at
least until man has been evolved into that in which
all traces of his savage ancestry have been lost, and,
therefore, the old instincts cease to move him.

Swift Current, and the welcome intimation
" Luncheon is served in the dinin":-car." And those

190

SINNERS TWAIN.

of the passengers who could afford 50 cents made for
the second last car — that hotel upon wheels, where,
be it said in justice to the Canadian Pacific Rail-
way, one can always get a substantial and very
daintily served little meal, a good glass of wine, and
a fairly good cigar at a moderate figure. The C.P.R.
does all things well.

" You and Pierre can go in and have your lunch,"
said Harry Yorke to Townley. '* I don't feel like it
just at present. I'll come in later on and get a cup
of tea."

"Why, Harry," said the youth, "don't let it ,"

but he broke off suddenly when he looked at his
comrade's face, and only said, " I'm sorry you don't
feel like it, old chap. If I didn't know you, I'd say
you stood on the dignity of your three stripes.
Allans^ Sancho."

And the idea regarding the stripes so seemed to
tickle the irreverent youngster that he indulged in a
grim chuckle. For the non-commissioned officers oC
the Mounted Police, be it said to their credit, relied
in reality more upon the force and mfluence of their
individuality than any mere supremacy which rank
gave them, which, of course, was essential in its way.
Then the private caught the little scout by the arm,
and marched him along towards the well-appointed
Pulman dining-car. Here a little incident occurred —
trifling in itself — but serving to show the comedies
we sometimes unwittingly take part in.

I'M .

nade for
;, where,
fie Rail-
nd very
vine, and
^c C.P.R.

ar lunch,"
;c\ U^e it
get a cup

"
let it »

<ed at his
r you don't
pu, I'd say
ee stripes.

seemed to
Idulged in a
officers ot
redit, relied
Ince of their
[Which rank
in its way.
by the arm,
11 -appointed

It occurred —
le comedies

CHAPTER XIV.

IxV WHICH THH PRECOCIOUS PRIVATE C.ETS EVEN
WITH THE SERGEANT AND THE SCOUT.

When Dick Townley and Pierre entered the dining-
car they found that they could not get seats together,
and so sat down at different tables. Opposite the
former, at the same table — each table is seated for
four — were two gentlemen, whom, he had never seen
before. One was a tall, spare, goodly-featured man
with a military appearance. He was dressed after
a prevailing English fashion, wearing a Norfolk
jacket and knicker-breechcs. The other was a stout,
elderly gentleman who wore a frock-coat, and was
unmistakably a Frenchman. By his manner, which
was not unkindly, he seemed to be some one of conse-
quence. This conclusion, to a stranger, would have
been further fostered by the way the attendants
waited upon him. But Private Townley was hungry,
and as he considered, properly enough, that a
Mounted Policeman, as long as he behaved himself, /

was just as good as a.iy other body, he sat down

191

/ -

/' •

I,'

192

SINNERS TWAIN.

ill

opposite the F«-enchman of consequence, aforesaid,
and politely requested the English-looking gentleman
to pass him the bill of fare. This the latter did with
a pleasant smile.

The two friends, as they seemed to be, went on
talking pleasantly together, apparently oblivious of
the private's presence ; and the latter went on with
his lunch. Gradually the car somewhat emptied
again : but still the two men opposite Dick Townley
sat talking, and he still leisurely continued eating.
The English- looking gentleman had ordered a large
bottle of claret, and he and his friend were enjoying
it. At length the two in the course of their conver-
sation drifted into a controversy as to the pronuncia-
tion of the Latin word, ecce^ as used in the title " £cce
Honioy

" I tell you what," — Dick did not catch the name —
" the pronunciation is es-ce. The first * c ' like an * s,'
you know," said the English-looking gentleman.

" No, Colonel, I sha'n't have it " — " Americans after
all," said Dick to himself — "one ought to pronounce it
like ekky. * C ' like a ' k,' you know," rejoined the
French-looking gentleman, pleasantly,

" Not at all," said the other, " I'm sorry to differ
from you ; but — I wonder how we can settle this ? "

He looked hard at Dick, who was modestly drain-
ing the last of his pint of Carling, and seemingly
satisfied with his scrutiny addressed him quietly.

" Do you — Constable — er "

'\ :.

THE PRECOCIOUS PRIVATE.

193

aforesaid,
Tcntleman
r did with

; went on
blivious of
nt on with
Lt emptied
;k Townley
ued eating,
ired a large
:re enjoying
:heir conver-
- pronuncia-
le title " Ecce

I the name —
' like an * s,'

itleman.
icricans after
pronounce it
rejoined the

3rry to differ
lettle this ? "

)destly drain-
Ind seemingly
lim quietly.

'* Townley," suggested Dick ; wondering somewhat
at this formal but correct mode of address. " At
least I understand they christened me so."

" Well, Constable Townley — but pass your c!a«*ct-
glass, I don't think it will disagree with the
beer."

He filled up Dick's glass, no dissent being made.

"Might I ask you if you happen to know the proper
pronunciation of the word Jzcce — ' Ecce Homo,' you
know. Is it not pronounced es-si ? "

" Sorry to disagree with you," answered Dick, with
brutal candour, " but you're wrong."

The smile on his face, however, somewhat made up
for the disappointment conveyed in the words.

The English-looking gentleman's face fell some-
what ; the other one laughed loudly, and seemed
much elated.

" There, now, Colonel," he cried. " Didn't I tell
you you were wrong! It's e-k-k-y. Ekky Homo,
Mr-er Townley, is it not ? I knew you were wrong.
Colonel."

" But you're wrong, too," was the same brutal
comment, with the same pleasant smile.

The two gentlemen stared blankly at one another
for a minute ; and the one who wore the knicker-
brceches said somewhat dryly, but still with a certain
significant deference —

" Then how do you pronounce the word ? and,
perhaps, you might give us your authority for so

194

SINNF.RS TWAIN.

doinfT, at the same time. Surely one of us must be
right."

" Doesn't follow," rejoined the youth, easily, but
modestly. " There's a third way, if you reeognise
such a thing as a classical precedent, and that is to
pronounce it as if it were ILv-ce Homo, the * c ' like ' x,'
you know. Cambridge is my authority." Then he
added with a depreciatory little laugh as he held his
half-empty claret-glass up to the light, and regarded
it with the air of a connoisseur : " But hang it all,
you know, gentlemen, I don't see why you should
take such a trifling little matter of use-and-wont so
seriously. Resides, Cambridge is not immaculate, or
the world, after all. It has its little affectations just
like other places, for which it can no more give
logical reasons than I could if I said the Devil spoke
the Irish language and spelt his name with an h.
You've got institutions in the States that could lay
Cambridge long odds in many lines I've no doubt ,
at the same time, don't think I mean to disparage
Cambridge."

At this stage of the proceedings Dick heard a
violent fit of coughing ; looking over the left shoulder
of the portly Frenchman, he caught a glimpse of the
round moon-like face of Pierre, the scout. On it was
a strange look of mingled consternation, entreaty,
and warning. Seeing that he had attracted the
private's attention, Pierre straightway indulged in
a violent facial pantomime, which, however, failed in

Tin-: l'REC0CI(3US PRIVATK.

»95

must be

isily, but
recognise

;hat is to
;Mike'x;

Then be
2 held his
I regarded
lang it all,
^ou should
i^a-wont so
naculate, or
itations just

more give
Devil spoke

with an //•
it could lay
; no doubt ,

disparage

iick heard a

1 left shoulder
impse of the

On it was
Ion, entreaty,
attracted the
indulged in
iver, failed in

its object, in that it only awakened a sense of tlic
ludicrous in the light-hearted private, who could
make, so to speak, neither head nor tail of it. That
the scout meant to convey some information to him
was evident. Ikit, surely, to observe such mystery
was absurd. Dick Townlcy regarded him sternly.
He dearly relished a joke at the little scout's
expense.

" I say, Pierre," he said loud enough for the scout
to hear, and talking over the stout gentleman's
shoulder, " what on earth is the matter with you ?
you put me in mind of a sick monkey or a nigger
with St. Vitus's dance. Can't you behave like a
Christian ? Come right forward and talk out like
a man if you have anything to say. l^ut, Sancho,
old chap, perhaps you'd like to do another bottle
of beer first. Just give that little round metal
business a dig on the top with your fist ; in polite
society the vernacular for this is 'jerking the tinkler,'
don't forget that, Pierre."

But Pierre had risen with a look of horror on his
face, and, without bestowing another look upon the
private, made his way out of the car as quickly as his
short legs would carry him.

" Well, I never ! " said Dick Townley, amusedU'.

" Nor yet I," echoed the stout gentleman, looking
curiously at his companion.

Then, as if something remarkably funny had oc-
curred to the three of them, they leant back in their

196

SINNERS TWAIN.

scats and indulged in a hearty laugh. Just at that
moment, in the mirror that faced the private at the
far end of the car, he saw the door behind him open,
and Harry Yorkc, the scr<;eant, looked in. In that
mirror he caught his eyes, though his back was to
him, and there was a peculiarly puzzled and concen-
trated look in them. Dick called out —

" I say, Harry — Sergeant, I mean " — it would not
do to be too familiar before the general public —
*' Deuce take it ! he's gone too 1 Why, what on
earth is the matter with them, I wonder?" This air
of mystery was really annoying.

The two friends appealed to seemed to discover
another good joke, and laughed heartily. Somehow
the private could not exactly .see what they were
laughing at this time.

" Was that Sergeant Yorke ? " quietly asked the
gentleman with the knicker>breeches.

" All there is meant for him," was the explicit reply,
" But you seem to know him," Dick added, somewhat
surprised.

" I have the honour of being slightly acquainted
with him," was the unconcerned reply.

Somehow his manner did not invite further inquiry
into the matter, and Dick Townley rose from the
table. He wanted to get back into the smoking-car
and have a pipe of " T. & B." *' I'll bid you good
afternoon, gentlemen," he said, bowing with a certain
deference ; for Dick Townley, in spite of the un-

THK PRECOCIOI'S PRIVATH.

197

at that
: at the
m open,

In that
: was to

conccn-

'ould not
public —

what on
This air

discover
Somehow
they were

asked the

plicit reply,
somewhat

acquai

nted

ther inquiry
;e from the
smoking-car
id you good
ith a certain
of the un-

convcntionality and ficodoin of his ways, had nn
thought of bc'uv!; foruanl or forj^'cttinj,^ his i)ositi()ii.

•'(jood afternoon," echoed the two friends, |)lcasantl)'.

" Stay a minute," s.u'd the stout j^ciulcinan, holding
out his cigar-case. " Try one of these cigars — you'll
find them good, I think."

"Tlianks very much," said Dick, choosing one.
"There are so many cabbage-leaves floating about
in this country that it is a treat to run across a
decent cigar now and again — so very good of you."

" Not at all — delighted, I'm sure," rejoined the
stout gentleman ; and in another instant the )()Uth
had left the car.

"'You bet,' as they say across the lines," soliloquised
Dick, with the sublime magnanimity and loftiness of
youth, "that these two chaps are ' big mucky-mucks'
in their own little tinpot place, wherever that may
be."

He was rij^ht. But then a tract of country that in
extent is about the size of Kuropc, is not exactly a
little "tinpot place."

The private made his way to the smoking-car,
where he found the sergeant and the little scout.
The latter, on catching sight of him, sprang to his
feet and was about to say something, when the
sergeant checked him by a sudden gesture.

" Well, Dick, had a good time ? " queried the
sergeant, in a dry and rather significant tone of voice
that unaccountably nettled and mystified the private.

198

SINNERS TWAIN.

" So-so, thanks," was, however, the imperturbable
reply. " But, why do you ask ? By the way, why
didn't you come into the ' diner ' that time, instead of
only shoving your head inside the door and going
out again ? "

" Oh, I merely didn't want to intrude. But what
were you gassing to them about ? Favouring them
with one of your little philosophical dissertations on
things in general. Eh ? "

Somehow Dick Townley did not like the tone his
superior adopted. It nettled him strangely ; for it
argued there was a screw loose somewhere, and that
the sergeant was cross-examining him on purpose to
bring confusion upon him. But the worldly-wise
youth was not the one to be taken at a disadvantage.
If there was anything wrong, that was his affair.
Neither the sergeant nor the scout was going to
make him the butt of any joke. He shaped his
answer accordingly.

" Well," said he, sitting down, putting his feet
on the seat opposite, and deliberately lighting his
cigar, " you see, Harry, these two chaps were some-
what dicky about their Latin. One of them — the
fat one — appealed to me as to whether his way was
not the right one and his companion's the wrong, in
pronouncing a certain word -"

"And you ?"

" Told him flatly he was wrong, to be .sure,"

" Oh, you did, did you ? Well, Dick, you've

THE i RECOCIOUS PRIVATE.

199

tations on

enough policy to qualify you for the post of Prime
Minister one of these fine days. You're sure to get
a commission in the force, anyhow. And what did ^
you say to the man in the knicker-breeches ? " asked
the sergeant, with an irritating vein of sarcasm in his
voice.

" Oh, I told him he was wrong also ! " was the
watchful reply. " Do you think, Harry, I am one of
those amiable nonentities that go about agreeing with
every one, when I happen to know that I am right
when others are wrong ? I don't suppose they would
have admired me any the more for having agreed
with them. They seemed pretty decent, chummy
sort of fellows. But, by the way, Dick, the one
with the knicker-breeches seemed to know you. Do
you know whom they are ? "

" Slightly," was the reply, and with a furtive look
at his comrade's face. " I've had the honour of
turning out the guard at Regina, and presenting arms
to them both on several occasions. The stout one
is the Lieutenant-Governor, Joseph Royal, of the
North-West Territories, and the other is one of ^

your superior officers, Lieutenant-Colonel Herchmer,} > "7'

Assistant Commissioner of the North- West Mounted(" "^
Police Force. . . . Oh, I can assure you, my boy, youx*
were in qaite respectable compan}- ! "

There was a dead pause for a second. Harry
Yorke looked pityingly at his comrade's face, as if he
expected to see that look of self-assurance change

I!H

nil

M i

I i

200

SINNERS TWAIN.

to one of confusion and mortification. The little
scout's large, bulging black eyes fairly danced in his
head, as he prepared to enjoy the expected denoue-
vient. But he was to sufifer disappointment. Dick
Townley observed these signs as he blew a larger
wreath of smoke than usual out of his mouth, and
nipped, as it were, in the bud an impulse to utter a
rather pronounced ejaculation. He never even once
shifted in his seat, but continued the conversation as
if he had heard nothing extraordinary.

" Indeed," said he calmly, and with a look of
candour and simplicity. " Now I can understand
what o'clock it is ; for I could not quite make out
what Herchmer was driving at when he said, in the
course of our rather chatty conversation, that he
knew my uncle, the general, in England, and he
hoped that when in Regina I'd take a walk over to
his diggings now and again when he'd endeavour
to show me some attention. Of course, I didn't
understand that he was one of my officers — the sly
beggar not to refer to the fact. But, perhaps, he
felt some little delicacy upon that point — some
scruples regarding my feelings, or something of that
sort. There's nothing like keeping in with the
powers that be, Harry, you know, and you bet I'll
do it."

" The devil ! " muttered the amazed, and now
thoroughly disgusted, Harry.

As for Pierre, the scout, his eyes fairly started out

THE PRECOCIOUS PRIVATE.

20 1

rhe little
ccd in his
d denoue-
nt. Dick
/ a larger
outh, and
to utter a
even once
ersation as

a look of
understand
: make out
aid, in the
n, that he
id, and he
alk over to
endeavour
e, I didn't
jrs — the sly
perhaps, he
loint— some
ing of that
n with the
^ou bet I'll

and now

started out

of his head ; his under jaw dropped, and his gaze
became fixed. His "dear Richard," as h frequently
called the private, sometimes iiidccd astonished
him, but had never done so as much as on this
occasion.

'* And Joe Royal, he's not a bad sort of fellow
either," continued Dick, as if soliloquising. " He
wanted me to stay in the car and finish another
bottle with them. But as I had already sampled
their wine and cigars pretty freely, I said I'd join
them later on in the day, and honour them with my
presence. (Doesn't do, you know, to make one's self
too cheap.) Royal said, when I asked him where
he was bound for, that he was going to Regina,
like myself." At this piece of information the ser-
geant groaned, and the private, asking him sharply
what the matter was with him, but receiving no
response, proceeded again, " He also expressed his
regret that he had not his card-case with him. How-
ever, I gave him my card, whereupon he expressed
the hope that I would be able to come over to dinner
at his place one of these days. He said there were
some people in the neighbourhood whom he thought
I'd like to meet."

" Oh ! of course," broke in the sergeant, with a
voice so freezingly polite that it seemed to afford
the precocious youth considerable amusement, " of
course, he meant the Commissioner, the Assistant(
Commissioner, perhaps the Governor-General, Ha)'tcr (

^wfC-V

JJi VViW.. .

gr iiii'ii|iiii,i|)iinni,M(im

J02

SINNERS TWAIN.

Reed, the Indian Connmissioner, Nicholas Flood
Davin, M.P., Sir W. C. Van Home, and a few others —
like yourself, you know. Oh, fire away, Dick ! I did
not think it were possible for any human being to
arrive at such a lofty pitch of intellectual impene-
trability ! Your utter lack of the perceptive faculty
borders on the sublime ! And you didn't seem to
think it strange when he did not give you his card?
Oh, no, I don't suppose you thought about that at
all!"

At the bare thought of the story the two magnates
would have to relate concerning his friend, the
sergeant grew hot and cold by turns. He had
meant to overwhelm the luckless private with a
sense of shame ; but here was that individual, to
talk figuratively, wallowing in it, like a hog in the
mire. Well, wonders would never cease.

But Dick thought the sergeant had been punished
sufficiently, so turned his attention to the luckless
scout to put the finishing touch, as he mentally
construed it, on him.

*'As for you, Pierre, the Assistant Commissioner
asked what the matter was with you — that time you
were making faces at me in the car, and went out so
hurriedly. I am sorry if I should have done wrong,
but I fear I said, to excuse your extraordinary
behaviour, that you had been indulging a little too
freely — indeed, to tell the truth, I said you had been
on a prolonged spree, and were hardly responsible

! !

:' i
i

THE PRECOCIOUS PRIV^ATE.

20 •

s Flood
others —
c ! I did
being to
impene-
'e faculty
; seem to
his card ?
at that at

magnates
riend, the
He had
te with a
ividual, to
log in the

punished
le luckless
mentally

mmissioner
t time you
^ent out so
one wrong,
traordinary
a little too
u had been
responsible

for your actions. However, as I promised Hcrchmcr
I'd look him up again to-night in the private Pulman,
I'll fix it all right again for you."

Poor Pierre sat limp, the picture of apprehension
(he was on his last trial), and with the cold sweat
starting from him. He was unable to utter a word.

Dick Townley rose with an air of unruffled and
benign composure, threw away the stump of his
cigar, and went over to the bookstall to buy a book
from the newsagent.

" I rather think that fetched them," said this un-
sophisticated and innocent youth to himself "You
see, Harry had it all his own way with that pretty
girl at St. Denis' ranche — not another chap could
get an innings at all ; and, besides, he thought to
extinguish me altogether with that wonderful news
of his a minute or two ago. Pierre, also, has been
getting rather cocky lately, and wanted taking down
a peg. When one goes in for turning the tables,
one wants to take sweeping and active measures,
or else something will be recoiling and damaging
one. , . . Great Scott ! but now I come to think of
it, I dici tell the Assistant Commissioner when he
asked me what I thought of the force ' that it
wouldn't be a bad sort of outfit to be in if they could
only manage to hang one or two of the officers, and
put some brains into one or two of the others,'
Well — I am a bright sort of bird after all ! "

As he reseated himself his face wore a somewhat

204

SINNERS TWAIN.

thoughtful and preoccupied air. Abstractedly he
whistled the Dead March in Saul in a minor key.

After all, Dick's triumph was not unlike all other
earthly ones — it was not unmixed.

CHAPTER XV.

A UNIQUE ORDERLY-ROOM SCENE.

The headquarters of the North-West Mounted Poh'cc/
Force at Regina stand on a site as drearily feature,
less and wretched for the herding together of human^
beings as ever the most interested or disinterested of
mortals fixed upon. No rolling prairie here to unfold
to the traveller every few miles some varying scene
suggestive of change, and restful to the eye and
the senses. Nothing but a dead level— a seemingly
interminable plain as far as the eye can reach. A
prairie without a tree, a stick, a stone, or a hillock
higher than an ant-hill, to break the appalling
reiteration and maddening monotony of the weary
landscape. In winter a snow-clad, wind-swept,
blizzard-haunted wilderness. In spring and summer,
when it rains, a quagmire of the most oleaginous
and tenacious mud that ever stuck to boots worn by
human beings. But this mud grows excellent wheat ;
and people, as a rule, do not emigrate merely in
search of the picturesque.

20S

■) < ' (

mmmmmm

■ I

206

SINNERS TWAIN.

" hy what strange paths and crooked ways " the
town of Regina, and the North-West Mounted
Poh'ce barracks came to be placed where they are, is
one of those mysteries left to puzzle the student of
history in the time to come. All honour, however,
to the energetic inhabitants of Regina — to those
who have administered its affairs, and its able Press,
that they have made their city what it now is. You,
in particular, Nicholas Flood Davin, and Mowat, have
been men amongst thousands.

But it is the headquarters of the North-West
Mounted Police Force, and not the town of Regina
that we have to do with. The barracks are situated
some two miles west of the town, and constitute in
themselves a goodly village, with their great octagon-
shaped water-tank, like a tower in the centre, flag-
staff, handsome riding-school, large stables, and other
buildings. They stand on the banks of the Wascana
Creek — the favourite haunt and breeding-place of
the festive mosquito in the spring — and upon the
whole are not a particularly inspiriting sight. If
rumour speaks truly — and rumour must be taken
with the proverbial pinch of salt — the enterprising
individual who sold this site to the police force
for so much cash, and, some say, the promise of
a commission in the force, had the best of the
bargain.

Entering the barracks by the principal gateway (
one passes the great flag-staff on the right, and on

A UNIQUE ORDERLY-ROOM SCENE.

207

s" the
ountcd
r arc, is
>dcnt oi
owever,
3 those
ie Press,
3. You,
;at, have

rth-West

f Regina
situated

stitute in

I octagon-

ntre, flag-

and other
Wascana
place of
upon the
sight. If
be taken
iterprising
lice force
>romise of
;st of the

.1 gateway (
%t, and on

the left the long, low wooden guard-room where
Louis Riel, Gaudier, Racette, and other enemies to
the law and their own freedom of action, enjoyed for
a period the enforced hospitality of the provost-
sergeant, and at last one fine morning walked out
of the window at the gable end of the building to pay
the penalty of their misdeeds. The rope that
hanged the famous ;ebel Riel is one of the longest
ropes on record ; for Jack Henderson, the worthy
Scot from the island of Bute, who hanged him, is
accredited with having sold at least several miles of
that same rope. After all, Jack Henderson only
hanged the man who, on one occasion, came very
near to hanging him. It was only right that Jack
should be allowed to use a long rope.

In front of the guard-room, pacing up and down
on the side-walk, between huge banks of snow, is the
sentry, minus his carbine ; for it is thirty below zero,
and cold steel is a dangerous thing to handle in such
a low temperature. He resembles nothing so much
as a huge bear, with his great shaggy buffalo coat,
his capacious collar up over his ears, fur cap, and long
brown stockings folded below the knee. Of course
in such weather he wears no long top boots, but
moccasins. On the west side of the square are two
large blocks of two-storied barrack-rooms for the
men. In front of No. i passage the sick parade has
fallen in, and the orderly corporal is standing b)-,
ready to march off the little row of unfortunates to

1. ' II18 f 'J 8 t-L

208

SINNERS TWAIN.

the doctor the minute the bufjle is sounded. But to
tiic credit of the medical staff of tlic police force be

' it said, they are capable of jjerforming their duties

\ with marked ability and humanity.

And now, in spite of the inclemency of the weather,
the side-walks of the square are thronj^cd with men,
hurryin<jf backwards and forwards as if their lives
depended on it. There arc two or three hundred
souls in the barracks, and what with parades of one
kind and another : rides, drills, fatigues, &c., they
have a busy time of it. Regina, generally speaking,
is the Ifi'te noir of the Mounted Policeman. It is the
training school he has to pass through before being
.sent to one of the far and many outposts scattered
throughout the Territories.

A quarter to eleven now, and there is another little
group of men opposite " No. I " passage ready to fall
in before the orderly room bu^le-call sounds. This
is, generally speaking, the paradt; of the day ; the one
round which most interest centPis. For it consists of
delinquents, and their individual demeanours, under
trying and peculiar circumstances, present interesting
studies to the student of character or p.sychology.
How quickly one can spot the raw recruit, who with
the outwardly unconcerned face and hectic laugh, but
with that peculiarly anxious and concentrated look
in his eye betraying him, is about to go up before his
commanding officer for the first time, to be charged
with the terrible crime " in that he did allow a horse

A UNi(2UE Orderly-room scenic. 209

But to

force be

ir duties

weather,
vith men,
r»cir lives

hundred
Ics of one
&c., they

speaking,

It is the

;forc being

5 scattered

other little
;ady to fall
nds. This
y ; the one

consists of
Durs, under

interesting

,sychology.

t, who with
laugh, but

trated look

p before his
be charged

low a horse

to break away from him when leading it to water " on
the previous day, or something of a like treasonable
nature. Moreover, as there is no fixed scale of
punishment in this force, a man who happens to be
disliked by a certain officer may find himself heavily
fined, or even imprisoned, when another man goes
Scot free for a more serious offence. A certain able
and conscientious Member of Parliament, however, a
)car or two ago, taught certain autocratic police
officials that there was a limit to despotism in Her
MajestyV service.

It needs no one to point out the old offender — there
he is, cool as a cucumber, and (with a hardihood
that positively fills the young recruit aforesaid with
mingled consternation and awe), chaffing the orderly
corporal — not yet confirmed — most unmercifully.
The corporal who, upon principle, promptly sup-
presses any liberties taken by newcomers in the
force, stands somewhat in dread of this great six-
foot-three giant, who is a carpenter to trade, and is
known as "Tom." Moreover, the giant is an old>
hand and an Irishman to boot. At every fresh sally
— at the corporal's expense — the little crowd in vain
endeavours to suppress the laugh that will break out.
The corporal turns red, and tries to assert his dignity ;
but it is of no use : Tom's wit is too subtle : so
obviously free from any personal animus towards the
non-com. and so good-natured withal, that reprisal
is next to impossible. Suddenly Harry Yorke, the

/ I

2IO

SINNERS TWAIN.

scrffcant, joins the little group, and comes to the
rescue of the unhappy corporal.

" Shure, now thin ye bhla^hart," he says to Tom,
imitating the brogue with a surprising exactitutle,
"an' is it juist when ye will be goiiV to git another tin-
(Ihollar foinc up yere shlecve that ye will be phlaying
the goat loiUe this ? lUit what are you on the peg
this time for, Tom — another drunk ? "

" Dhivil a bhit, sarjint, dhear," answered the Irish-
man, with an aggrieved look on his face, so well
simulated indeed that one or two recruits who stood
looking on, and had not sufficient experience of Tom,
felt sorry for him. " Another dhrunk, indade ! And
shure if it wir another dhrunk it wud not be moindin'
the thin-dhollars up my shleeve I'm thinkin' I'll git ;
but as it is the oidentical same dhrunk I wis foined
last week for, it's phlaying it low on the carpentirs
shop I'm thinkin'. Oh wirra, wirra! And what will
my poor ould mother say if she hears of this, at all,
at all."

At this point Tom looked such a picture of misery
that one of the very young recruits stammered out a
few broken words of sympathy. Then Tom's eyes
fairly danced in his head ; but he thanked the youth-
ful constable politely, with a look of preternatural
gravity on his face that somewhat mystified the
others. He turned to the sergeant and con-
tinued —

" An' sarjint, darlin', what will they be goin' to

A UNIOUE OI<I)I;KLY-K()OM SCKNK. :m

to lli^*

to Tom,
actituclc,
)thcr tin-
phlayitv^
\ the pc^

:he Irish-
;, so well
,vho stood
c of Tom,
Je I Aik\
I moindin'
n' I'll git ;
wis foincd
carpentirs
1 wbat will
this, at all,

e of misery
icred out a
Tom's eyes
the youth-
reternatural
y^stified the
and con-
be goin' to

hang ye for? an' bad luclc to thini b)' the saini" token
as docs it sc/, oi."

" For allowing a \'oung woman to leave a house in
which I was, during the night, Tom," was the some-
what unwise and unwilling repl)- of Harry \'orke.

At this Tom opened his e)'es and stared at the
sergeant in a manner that was meant to express
astonishment, disapprobation, and a sort of pit)ing
disparagement all in one.

" Ochone, ochone, sarjint, dhear, but it will be
sarvin' ye right if they take the sthripes of yere coat
for that same, shure ; an' what would it be ye wir
lettin' the poor crither go for — an' in the noight ?
An' if it had been mysilf, now, it's dhivil a fut I'd
have let her go — leastways, ahlone. It's m)-silf
would have been comforting an' kapin' the puirty
mavourneen compiny shure. Shame on ye for that
same, sarjint ! If Larry's got iny sinse av gallantry
himsilf, he'll sock it t* ye an' no mistake, an' hair on
'im for that same sez oi."

And amid the easy laughter of old offenders, and
the distressingly artificial laughter of the new, the
ordei was given to " fall in." At the same moment
two or three men rushed from the passage, and fell in
with the others, Dick Townley being one of them.
The men were told off by sections from the left.
The order was given, "Half sections left — quick
march ; " and, as one man, the little band was
marched half round the square by the side-walk to

(cy

212

SINNERS TWAIN.

( !

the adjutant's room, where the Dispenser of Justice sat
in state surrounded by the other officers in the post.

To avert the by no means unHkely contingency of
being frozen, they were marched into a Httle side-
room, there to await their turns for appearing.

Then the sergeant-major gave the order, " Sergeant
Yorke, and evidence — t' shun, right turn, quick march,"
and into the presence of the dispenser of justice,
Harry Yorke, Dick Townley, and Pierre the scout
were uslicred. " Mark time in front — give me your
cap. Sergeant Yorke. Halt, right turn," and the
beginning or the end of the play had begun.

But what need to detail the phraseology of the
long-winded charge that was preferred against
Sergeant Yorke, or the scene that followed. There
was Ins[)cctor Bounder, his round face glowing with
zeal and vi "tuous indignati^wi. As first witness on the
evidence, he related how Sergeant Yorke had wilfully
neglected the precautions he, his superior officer, had
taken such pains to charge him with. And how
Sergeant Yorke must have connived with that girl,
Marie St. Denis — who might be, for all he knew, a
girl of light character, but was at least as bad as her
father, a notorious smuggler, to allow her to leave the
hut surreptitiously and so cause the frustration of
the ends of justice.

At this point the hands of Sergeant Yorke twitched
convulsively as he stood at attention ; the veins in his
forehead stood out ; he drew his breath in short,

f r;

A UNIQUE ORDERLY-ROOM SCENE.

213

ustice sat
;he post,
ngency of
ittle sidc-

" Sergeant
ick march,"
of justice,
; the scout
'e me your
;' and the
cgun.

logy of the
•ed against
ved. There
rlowing with
itness on the
had wilfully
r officer, had
And how
th that girl,
I he knew, a
as bad as her
;r to leave the
frustration of

f orke twitched
he veins in his
eath in .short,

quick gasps that made every eye in the room look
at him wonderingly. There was one grey-haired,
elderly surgeon in the little group of officers, who
coughed significantly behind his hand, stared at the
inspector who was giving evidence with a look of
indignation and disgust, and then turned his back
significantly and contemptuously upon him.

Brave old Dr. Dodd, your memory is a sacred
thing with every man who had the honour of coming
in contact with you in the North- West Mounted
Police Force !

To the credit of the officer who was trying the
case be it said, he at this point pulled Inspector
Bounder pretty sharply up, telling him to confine
himself to the charge, and to be careful regarding
what aspersions he made respecting any woman.

Jamie took the snub easily enough. A man with-
out any sense of honour can neither be insulted nor
snubbed : he is conscious of the cap fitting — the
shape of his ugly head gives him awa)' — and he
knows that the best way of getting over the difficulty
is by taking no notice of it.

Perhaps, after all, Jamie's evidence did not do
Sergeant Yorke as much damage as it might have
done. His personal animus affected that dispassion-
ate critical sense which is necessary to work out a
losrical and conclusive conviction. In his hatred of the
man before him, he evolved from his own gross and
sluggish imagination utter fabrications which he had

!■!■!

214

SINNERS TWAIN.

no means of proving, and left unnoticed points that,
had they been put to the prisoner or the witnesses,
might easily have been construed into neglect of duty
or breaches of discipline. To say that the officer who
was trying the case realised this, and felt heartily
ashamed of the feeble case against the accused, wei'e
putting it mildly. The accused had no questions to
ask of this witness.

Then the private, Dick Townley, was examined.
His evidence only contradicted that of the prev^ious
witness.

As for the little scout, in whose simplicity and
ignorance of the effects of heckling had lain the chief
hope of Jamie, he showed himself at least a firm
believer in one most excellent precept — " silence is
golden," Moreover, he seemed to have become slow
of comprehension to a degree ; and what know-
ledge of the Queen's English he had possessed at
one time, seemed to have entirely deserted him.
Outwardly he resembled the heathen Chinee, his
smile being " childlike and bland," and when evi-
dentl}' unable to understand some rather pointed
question that was put to him by the Dispenser of
Justice, there was a puzzled and meek pensiveness
upon his face that would have done credit to one
of the martyrs of the Inquisition. When cautioned
regarding this line of conduct in a way that would
hard I)' have been permitted in any other orderly
room save in the North - West Mounted Police

A UNIQUE ORDERLY-ROOM SCENE.

Force (where one man relegates to himself powers
i that a court-martial of experienced British officers in
' other parts of the Empire would hesitate to exercise),
he betrayed a most deplorable and imperfect condi-
tion of memory. He could recollect nothing. To
the student of psychology, or the investigator of
mental diseases, Pierre would have proved a most
interesting study. But this condition of mind is not
peculiar to those holding subordinate positions in tlie
force. Perhaps on other momentous occasions it has
proved efficacious. It is only pure speculation to say
that probably some analogous circumstance suggested
itself to the quick comprehensive mind of the stern,
but not altogether heartless officer who was trying
the case, for a twinkle shot into those somewhat rest-
less, greyish-blue eyes beneath the bushy eyebrows,
and in a quick, jerky, somewhat American-like drawl,
he ordered the scout to stand aside.

Then the question was put to the prisoner, " Well,
Sergeant Yorke, what have you got to say for
yourself? "

It was a rather remarkable thing that the officer
trying the case should never look at the prisoner.
Perhaps it was as well. Who knows but that beneath
the almost harsh demeanour, the too strict and stern
sense of discipline that nearly always characterised
his bearing towards those whom he officially came
in contact with, there was a tender place in this man's
heart, the existence of which he was conscious of.

2l6

SINNERS TWAIN.

X.^'

vy^

\/^ and which was always a menace against the proper
y [ carrying out of an all too rigorous policy which he
t. erroneously considered it his duty to pursue. Doubt-

J /= less he erred on the side of duty ; and true to
the adage that "extremes meet," his policy was
productive of much that militated against a healthy
moral tone, and that sense of honour it is essen-
|tially necessary should prevail in a police force.
But, regarding the man himself, at heart he was
a well-meaning man ; and to any one who could
see beneath the surface of things, who could read
aright the intonation of a voice or the glance of
an eye, no matter how harsh and severe they seemed,
there was much that was good and even likable in
him. He was one of the stern sort. He doubtless
was sorry when he saw a good man come to grief,
but he never said so. Perhaps if a little of the
suaviter in modo had come more naturally to him,
he would have been more popular than he was. No
man living need think that he can rule solely by the
fortiter in re. In the natural order of things it cannot
be : the darkest tragedies of history are written in
the blood of tyrants. In justice to this man, however,
be it said that in his heart there was no hatred
towards his fellow-man ; it was a pity he should be
so afraid of that better self which was most assuredly
in him. It would not have detracted from the dignity
or power of his position. A beneficial and lasting
influence would thus have been exercised, instead of a

A UNIQUE ORDERLY-ROOM SCKXK. 217

mistaken and pernicious species of terrorism that did
a hundred times more harm than good.

And now there was a significant silence in that
orderly room, and every eye was turned inquiringly
on the accused. With the more than lightning-like
rapidity of thought, Harry Yorke had realised the
position in which he stood. He knew that as
Inspector Bounder, with his usual shortsightedness,
had seen no tracks of a woman's feet leading from
the house-door, it would be dangerous for him to say
to the Presiding Officer that he had not looked for
tracks ; he — Sergeant Yorke — had therefore only to
say that the girl must have escaped from her bed-
room window or by some back door, and he could
clear himself of the responsibility ; for the officer's
commands had been giver specifically enough, to
watch the kitchen door from the room in which they
lay, but given only when the girl had made good her
escape. But to Sergeant Yorke there was only one
thing that was evident, and that was, whatever con-
struction he might put upon his conduct, he could
never be otherwise than guilty in his own eyes. To
make a clean breast of the whole affair would be to
commit a palpable absurdity that the law did not
dcnand, that no one would thank him for, and that
would not only incriminate Marie St. Denis, but
would not mitigate his offence. Such a course was
not to be thought of Again, if by using that pre-
rogative which wisely enough is permitted the British

2l8

SINNERS TWAIN.

soldier, of making the best defeiiee he can for
himself, he utterly upset the inspector's charge —
which, being wrong to begin with, could have easily
been accomplished — and he proved that there was
in reality no ground for a conviction against him,
would it be conducive to his self-respect? The
very idea of denying the fact of having aided the
flight of Marie St. Denis seemed in itself the most
objectionable treason. It was like denying her —
she who, in spite of all that had taken place, he felt
was well worthy of his respect, and who, indeed
at all times, was occupying a very great share in his
thoughts. Deny her, indeed ! — and his denial of this
charge would be akin to it — he felt it would better
become him to draw attention to the base insinuation
of the commissioned cad, who had, to further his
own selfish ends, aspersed the fair name of a pure-
minded girl. Deny the charge, indeed ! and God-
given thought suggested to him that old-world scene,
where in the court of the High Priest's palace a fond
but faint-hearted follower stood warming himself in
the chill dawn by a fire of coals, but whose love, alas !

/was not proof against that significant soul-searching
question, " Did I not see thee in the garden with

/him .'' " For the answer came back with an oath, " I
know not the man ! " as he denied the master. What
more simple or comprehensive in this world's history
than such a lesson ? How could he again look that
girl in the face, knowing that he had lied to save

A UNIQUE ORDERLY-ROOM SCENE. 219

three paltry stripes ? There was sin enough ai^ainst
him as it was. Now that a nobler ideal had come
into his life — the thought of that sacrifice of a girl's
pride (what man can measure it ?) to save an erring
father, be it right or wrong in its object — made him
feel that it would be dishonourable to her, and in
him, to deny the charge now. The knowledge that
he would voluntarily quit that calling he had chosen/
in a few weeks, because he felt himself no longer
worthy of it, was not sufficient to bias his judgment.
In a second his resolve was taken. He would apply
and profit by the old-world story, and no ironical
cock would bear witness to his denial. In another
second he said —

" I have nothing to say in my defence ; but perhaps
Inspector Bounder would like an opportunity of
explaining what he meant by referring to Miss St.
Denis as he did."

Had he given voice to some treasonable utterance
he could not have surprised the little group of
officers standing round their chief more than he
did. As for the latter, man of action and quick-
witted as he was, he was momentarily taken aback.
The sergeant-major, who stood behind the prisoner,
breathed quickly. He did not know whether it was
his duty to silence this outspoken offender or not.
But the chief looked up quickly, and to his credit
said —

" You have no right to demand an explanation

iii

/■

220

SINNERS TWAIN.

from Inspector Bounder — that is my business, and
you can rest assured 1 shall do so."

Then he hesitated a moment, with pen in hand, ere
he wrote on the back of the defaulter sheet. This
done he said, still in that quick, jerky way —

" Vou have not a clean defaulter sheet " (it took a
very clever man or a nonentity to keep a clean sheet
in the police force), " but this is the first charj;c
rcfltctini^ on your honour that has been brought
against you. Such a charge wants making an
example of. One month's pay " (enough to bury
three policemen), " and reduced to the rank and pay
of a constable."

" Left turn, quick march," rang out the stentorian
voice of the sergeant-major ; and in another minute
Private Yorke and evidence stood outside.

" I've a knife in my pocket, sergeant-major," said
Private Yorke as he held up his right sleeve to that
officer.

In another minute the three golden bars and the
crown were being ripped off his serge. " I'm very
sorry for you, Yorke, old man," whispered the
sergeant-major. *' Come and see me when orderly
room is over."

He was a good-hearted fellow the sergeant-major
and had " been there " himself in his time.

I (

ncss, find

hand, ere
ct. This

it took a
can sheet
it charj;e

brought
iking an

to bury
and pay

stentorian
;r minute

LJor," said
e to that

i and the

I'm very

>ered the

n orderly

ant-major

CHAPTER XVI.

SOME LIVES FROM THE RANKS.

•' If ARRY, old man," said Dick Townic)-, as he anv^ht
his comrade by the arm, and walked along the side-
walk with him, "it's no use telling you how sorry 1
am for you ; you must know all that. You'll have
>'our stripes back again before long, depend on it.
In the meantime I'll give you a hand to shift your
tilings from your old quarters. You must come
into No. 9 room ; there's a place for a set of trestles
and boards alongside mine. There's no corporal in
the room. You will be in charge anyhow, and won't
have to do room-orderly."

" Thanks, Dick," said Private Yorke, trying to look
cheerfully upon the prospect before him, and not
quite succeeding. "Don't think for a moment I'm
going to break my heart, lad. I got these stripes " —
he carried them in his hand now — " for my share in
catching Blueblanket's son, and it does seem a little
hard to have to chuck them up like this. But I've
only a month or so to put in, and then I'm a free

'M'l

222 SINNERS TWAIN.

ni\qgcr. Hut, I guess, I'll pan out somehow. There's
the C. V. R., the Hudson Bay Company, or perhaps
I may go on my own hook. I've a few thousand
dollars, thank goodness. The first move will want
the most consideration."

Then somehow he thought of Marie St. Denis.
After all^ he had been loyal to himself and to her.
If he had erred he was now voluntarily paying the
l)enalty of his error. He had not surrendered his
self-respect by equivocating and escaping that
penalty. He had been true to her in his heart ; he
somehow felt as if he had suffered for her. Already
there seemed a subtle bond of union between them.
His spirits ro.se. He felt as if somehow Marie St.
Denis were nearer to him — at least, he had taken one
step towards her. Aftei all, if he had lost the stripes
he felt something else within him — something that
nrade him feel as if he had a better title to the name
of a man, than all the stripes and gold lace in the
police force in themselves could possibly have given
hipi. " Broke ! " It was an ugly word, truly, but
he could afford to smile at it now.

And then he looked down at the bare place on his
coat-sleeve where the stripes had been ; his eye had
instinctively missed them. ** Damn the stripes and
those who took them from me ! " he broke out. He
could hardly be expected to take to his new position
all at once.

Perhaps what affected him more than anything

SOMF LIVr.S FROM THF. RANKS.

3?'

There's
perhaps
housand
ill want

t. Denis.
1 to her.
ying the
Icred his
ng that
leart ; he

Already
en them.
Marie St.
aken one
le stripes
ling that

le name
ce in the
ive given
ruly, but

c on his
ye had
ipes and
out. He
position

anything

was the spontaneous, delicate, and hcart-fclt cxprcs-/
sions of sympathy when he reached the men's ([uartcrs
from non-coms, and privates alike. They pressed
forward one after another, and shook him warml\' by
the hand. " Never mind, Vorke," said one, " you're
too good a man to vegetate as a sergeant. If you
take the stripes again — and they'll be running after
you again to take them in a few weeks— we'll cut
you dead." " Yorkey," said another, " it may be
questionable taste in expressing myself as I do, but
we, one and all, are proud and glad to have you
amongst us again." A drill instructor, a fair-haired,
smart, soldierly-looking man, actually had told the
little squad of men he was drilling in an adjoining
room to " stand easy " and made his way over to
Harry. *' Old-hand " that he was, he could see almost
without appearing to look that the three stripes
and crown had disappeared from his coat-sleeve.
There were four stripes on his own coat. His style
of administering comfort was, perhaps, the best of
any. As he pressed Harry's hand he said with a
pleasant, careless smile on his face, " What's the
odds, Yorke ! You know enough about this force to
take such an ordinary everyday occurrence for what
it's worth. Was it the Psalmist, or some other chap
who said, * Man is born unto troubles as the sparks
fly upwards,' or something of that sort .'' If the
Psalmist — with all due deference to him — had been
a North- West Mounted Policeman, he might have

224

SINNERS TWAIN.

put the case a little more stmniLHy, .iiul said, ' There
is nothin-^r certain to the unbeliever save a compre-
hensive defaulter sheet, and an enforced period of
entertainment in Trigot's hotel.' So far as non-coms,
are concerned, not one of us is sure of his stripes for
twelve hours."

He was right; within the week he was on his way
up to Prince Albert minus his four stripes, and taking
his orders from a French Canadian teamster who
happened to be his senior. He proved the truth of
his words, anyhow. Harry Yorke had hardly taken
a survey of the spot, where he contemplated taking
his boards and trestles to, in No. g barrack-room,
when a prisoner's escort entered the room with side-
arms on, in charge of Tom the Hibernian carpenter.

** Hilloa, Tom, what did you get ? " some one cried,
as he observed the luckless one proceed to bundle up
his kit as if preparing for a removal !

" What did I git? " was the somewhat rueful
answer, " why, I got it sockec' ♦■q me, shure I Bad
luck to Larry, the blood-thirsty ould coyote, it's doin'
a month he should be himsilf. Shure now, wouldn't
I like to be following the ould sinner round the
square wid me baton, an' him carrymg round the
coals to the officers' quharters. Holy mother av
Moses if I wouldn't make him git a rustic on ! Yis
bho)'s, ould Joey's got mi now."

And here Tom paused in the task ot rolling up his
bedding, to sing for the benefit of the company a

r, A

SOMIC LIVKS FROM TIIK RANKS.

, ' 'Iherc
comprc-
criocl of
Dii -coins,
ripes for

his wiiy
1(1 takin<4
stcr who

trutli of
lly tiikcii
hI takiiiLi
ick-rooni,
ivith sidc-
:arpentcr.
one cried,
Dundie up

at rueful
re ! Bad
it's doin'
wouldn't
round the
ound the
nother av
on ! Yis

ing up

his

ompany a

popular ditty that had been coini)oscd by a guard-
room poet, in reference to the relationship in which,
i;cncrally speaking, sooner or later the [)rovost-
sergeant, otherwise head-gaoler — known as Joey —
stood to the young tenderfoot who had committed
some trifling error. The chorus of the song, m which
two or thrf?e of the men joined, ran thus : —

•' lot iilil joi) \ j^ol liiin now,
A 1(1 the sweat's u\\ his licaiitiful brow ;
(loinj; rouiul from house to Ikiusl-,
Cliul in a coloured blouse,
Old Joey's ^nl him now."

It is only justice to the Joey referred to, however,
to say that his bark was worse than his bite. If his
manner was at times rather harsh, he never allowed
a poor civilian prisoner to leave his charge on the
e.Kpiry of his sentence, without a heartfelt " Get out
of this and don't come here again ! " — and a dollar in
his pocket.

It was a unifjue .scene — one which could hardly
have been witnessed outside a North-Wcst Mounted
Police barrack-room, where, generally speaking, the
men pull well together. There was an ex-sergeant —
Harry Yorke — assisting a prisoner who had just got,
as he expressed it, "thirty days in the hotil," and
every one present joining in a serio-comic chorus,
with the exception of the extremely youthful prisoner's
escort, who was scared within an inch of his life by the
prisoner he was in charge of, and kept wondering if a

1-1

226

SINNERS TWAIN.

plug of tobacco would assist In conciliating the terrible
Irishman.

" Shure an' it's no use av mi sympathisin' wid
you, Sarjint — I mane Corpiril. Oh — damn what I
mane anyhow, Sarjint Yorke. Oh, Jerusalem ! — for
I'm in a worse box moisilf than you. But niver
moind ' we shall meet on that be-autiful shore ' as
my dear frind Pat Barnes over in Joey's says. An' I
say, Sarjint Yorke, — dhivil take stroipes anyway — it's
likely you'll be hevin' your turn at escort in a day or
two and there's five dollars I want ye to kape for me.
Two plugs av * T. an' B.' a wake, me bhoy ! The
two assistant provosts are demned dacent lads, one
an owd guardsman and another an ould mossback, an
may be dipended on to trate me discratel)^ My
blessin' on ye bhoys an be good to your silves."

And Tom, the carpenter, with a roll of bedding
on his back (for use in the guard-room) took his
departure from No. 9 barrack-room, and out of this
history.

That night in " No. 9 barrack-room " there was
one man at least who lay awake long after " lights-
out," and indulged in many long and anxious
thoughts. Last night he was lying the sole occupant
of the room at the end of the passage, sergeant in
charge of the four barrack-rooms that it commanded.
To-night — well, he had been warned for stable-orderly
on the morrow, and that explained the situation.'
After all, it served him right : a man of his experience

SOME LIVES FROM THE RANKS.

227

of the world, and education, to join a police force,
because there were many more " had-beens " like
himself in it ; and where, to keep up the delusion of
playing at soldiers, they fined and imprisoned till the
red coat of a British dragoon was a mocker)' to a
man. He was in a bitter and cynical mood. He
began to teel that passion and not reason was swaying
him now. Let him only bethink himself. Did he
not deserve the punishment he had brought upon
himself? Some voice within him said, it was tor
a helpless woman's sake. But in the name of all
that was reasonable, what right had he to subvert
the law, which he represented in his person, for a
matter of sentiment, no matter how just and reason-
able he might think it .'' If he had erred in a matter
of judgment, he ought to have known that the path
of duty was a straight one, permitting of no turning
either to the right or the left, and he ought to have
followed it. When he came to think of it, his punish-
ment was only just ; moreover, he himself had courted
that same punishment. He had no reason to find
fault with the powers that had tried him. They had
even, perhaps, dealt leniently with him.

But was it not an ill luck that was for ever dogging
his steps ? He sat up in his bed now, as if to relieve
the rush of blood that had gone to his fevered head.

Luck, forsooth ! Who was he that he should talk
of luck ? Let him glance around where stretched
upon their palliasses lay the slumbering forms of his

I !

228

SINNERS TWAIN.

comrades, and let him just take one by one the life
histories — at least, so much as was known of them —
of these men : a fair sample of some of the pathetic
and almost tragic histories that were buried away in
this police force.

There, within a couple of yards of him, lay one
who was in his day one of the most famous and
promising men in his university. ' He had rowed in
the eight ; he had been a Senior Wrangler ; he had
taken the highest honours wherever he had essayed to
conquer in the paths of knowledge ; he had entered
the church ; a man of great heart and brain whom
every one was proud to knov/. Surely his was a life
to be envied and emulated : surely his life was a
success. And then — what was that awful thing —
that evil genius, that reptile-like had followed him
up with pitiless malignity — stealing upon him again
with redoubled rigour after every fresh repulse, and
then striking with its deadly, pitiless fangs when it
was sure of its victim .'' Drink ! disgrace — ruin — ay,
something infinitely worse than death ! And then —
another name — another and a new country ; the red
coat of the dragoon as worn by a Mounted Police
force — for he could not -'d himself of that life which
had become a burden ' o him ; he was too much of
a man to cut it short with his own hands. Then \
he had turned over a new leaf, and was about to
get the promotion that his abilities had earned for
him — but he had fallen again. Only that day he had

the life

them —

pathetic

away in

lay one
Dus and
owed in
; he had
sayed to

entered
n whom
/as a life
e was a

thing —
ved him
m again
ulse, and

when it
ruin — ay,
i then —
; the red /
:d PoliceN
ife which

much of
s. Then \
about to
arned for
ly he had

SOME LIVES FROM THE RANKS.

2-9

come out of the guard-room where he had been per-
forming a prisoner's menial tasks. What was to be
the end of him ? Oh, the ironies of what man calls
fate!

And there, in that other cot, with a ghostly ray of
moonlight creeping over the old brown rug, lay
another *' had-been." At one time the most popular
officer in a crack cavalry old-country regiment : a
man who had the respect of his brother officers and
the love and confidence of the rank and file ; a man
of supposed large private means and influence ; for
whom there were great things in store, and who had,
figuratively speaking, the ball at his foot. And then
— talk of it shudderingly, and with bated breath —
was it something at cards ? or did rumour lie ? Be
it as it might, he had dropped out of that distin-
guished life as completely as if his charger had boon
led riderless, with boots reversed, on the soldier's
last parade, and a volley of musketry had been dis-
charged over his grave. There were some who said
it had been better so. What availed now his medals
and clasps for distinguished service ? He dun-t not
wear them, lest his story might get about. Perhaps
only Dick and one or two others knew his melan-
choly history, and they kept it a sacred secret. 1 hey
strove in pity to help this man who had erred, not
because he had once been " somebody," but because
he had been punished for his sins and was himself
striving to lead a new life.

230

SINNERS TWAIN.

There in that other cot in the corner, deep in
shadow, lay the only son of a widowed mother, who
with him had been left penniless by some sudden and
unexpected monetary crisis. Brought up to a life of
ease and plenty, he found that gifts like his had
little chance of earning salt in a country like England,
where the race was only for the strong and the
trained. He had emigrated to Canada. But those
who employed him — only manual labour of the most
unskilled and menial sort could he get — had after a
brief trial of him dispensed with his services. They said
that, no matter however willing a man might be, the
hands of a woman and the lack of bodily strength
and ordinary skill would not suit them. Then irom
one stage of hardship and penury to another ; and
then, nothing between him and starvation but the
red coat. Yes, here at last was a lite where intelli-
gence and a knowledge of horses and fire-arms would
stand him in stead. And now he had taken the,
position of servant to an officer, in order that the
extra five dollars a month which he earned by it;
might swell the little sum that every month, with;
religious punctuality, he sent home to his mother and,
sisters in the Old Country. Nor did he stop here, but
blacked the boots of many of his comrades — many
of whom had some little private means — so that he
might make an extra ten or fifteen cents by doing so.
Think of it — a graduate of one of the English uni-
versities, blacking boots and flunkeying for those who,

, deep in
>ther, who
idden and
3 a life of
e his had
England,
and the
But those
" the most
ad after a
They said
ht be, the
' strength
'hen irom
ther ; and
1 but the
re intelli-
ms would
taken the
• that the
led by it
)nth, with
lother and;
D here, but
es — many
30 that he
' doing so.
iglish uni-
those who,

SOME LIVES FROM THE RANKS.

231

in comparison with him, belonged to a lower order of
beings altogether, so that he might send an extra ten
cents to a widowed mother. Noble life ! though only
a matter of duty some may say. Nobility and boot-
blacking, oh, ye gods ! Yes, m}' masters — ten thou-
sand times Yes ! — and nobility of a very much higher
order than any that can be granted by royal letters
patent.

Oh, the undreamt-of tragedies ! oh, the pathosr
contained in the histories of some of those lives) ^ '
hidden away under the scarlet tunic of the dragoon \ '
Those lives, the greater number of which were more
wonderful romances than any ever penned by the
hand of man, and which were now bound together by
a something more than the merely conventional term
of camaraderie — by a spirit of sympathy and common
brotherhood. Oh, the infinite and unspeakable possi-
bilities of human life ! But beyond the veil, and
guiding as it were the finger of what men call Destiny,
was there no existent great and just power that
appealed to the mind and the faith of those tried
ones, helping them to do what the spirit of religion
demanded of them — which was to crush down the
devil in them that would fain rob them of their
ultimate reward ?

A few minutes before, Yorke had given way to
this demon of discontent and revolt with the insidious
whisperings. But he had thought of the lives of these
men who lay side by side with him. These lives

232

SINNERS TWAIN.

which were not the outcome of a puHn.cj and sickly
sentimentality, such as is affected by the drawing-
room scribe who has never seen life outside that
congenial apartment, but lives in the rough, the
lives of strong men with noble aspirations and strong
passions — at the very doors of whose hearts the very
muse of Tragedy herself had knocked. What were
his troubles compared with theirs, indeed ? And what
was this life but a trial of faith after all ? . . . Truly,
no fight no victory.

He rose from his cot, and going down on his knees

did what he had neglected to do for many a long

/ year — he prayed. He was not the first man who had

done so in a barrack-room ; and, perhaps, there were

^those near him who had a share in his prayers.

A man's prayers are always answered, if only — as
they always do — they make him a better man.

I !

1 sickly
Irawing-
ide that
igh, the
d strong
the very
tiat were
Lfid what
. Truly,

CHAPTER XVII.

OVERHEARD BY THE OLD CROW.

his knees
y a long

who had
tiere were
;rs.

only — as
in.

Summer in New England — a quaint old farm-
house with straggling outbuildings hiding amid a
wealth of rustling, sweet-smelling greenery, and an
air of peace and healthful existence everywhere. It
was quite a patriarchal place for a new country ; for
Gabriel St. Denis had bought it from the representa-
tives of the old Shaker whose forefathers had owned
and tilled the farm for over a hundred years before
him. It was a one-storied, roomy, but very erratic
house ; for a room had been added to the main
building from time to time, probably as th'^ demand
for space of some grownng family had necessitated,
until it was impossible to tell which of the many
sides of the house constituted the front and which
the back. There was nothing to guide one in deter-
mining this point, for there were three different
porches to it, each one with a good deal of old-
fashioned trellis work, and a profusion of roses and

honeysuckle sprawling all over it. Each of these

233

234

SINNERS TWAIN.

three porches in their particular day had indicated
the front proper of the house. *' The times change,
and we change with them," would have been an
appropriate motto above each doorway. Perhaps it
was the non-existence of that damp, bare, stained,
slip-shod, untidy side to this house, and commonly
called " the back," that contributed to the mystery.
There were beautiful roses trained against the walls
everywhere, and flov.'er-pots with geraniums and
fuchsias in them on the window-sills. Some people
have got an idea that you cannot see a real picture of
rural beauty outside the Old Country, but then some
people never travel. To admire another place need
not be to detract from the beauty of a home picture.
That would be an impossibility.

In the bright and pleasant sitting-room by the
open window a girl sat sewing a button on a shirt.
Now there is not much poetry in a shirt-button of
itself ; but when a pretty girl is sewing one on, it
becomes quite another thing. Therefore the button
and the shirt were quite in keeping with the idyllic
surroundings. The girl's head was mostly somewhat
incl'ned over her work ; but from time to time she
lifted it, to smile at some caustic and original remark
that the elderly, dark-skinned woman, who was
folding some snowy linen and stowing it , vvay in a
little sideboard, was addressing to her. But, upon
the whole, the girl, who was Marie St. Denis, did
not seem to take that interest in her self-imposed

OVERHEARD liV THE OLD CROW.

235

ndicated
; change,
been an
erhaps it
stained,
)mmonly
mystery.
:he walls
ims and
le people
)icture of
len some
ice need
; picture.

I by the
1 a shirt,
lutton of
ne on, it
e button
le idyllic
omewhat
time she
I remark
k^ho was
vvay in a
ut, upon
enis, did
-imposed

task that she ouijht to have done ; neither did the
volatile and cheerful remarks ot Jeannette seem to
arouse any responsive flow of spirits in her ; her
thoughts were evidently otherwise engaged. The
girl looked at some of the familiar objects of the old
Canadian days that were ranged around her, with taste
and simplicity, on the walls ot that low-roofed room
— the miniature bark canoes, the tiny snowshoes, the
plumed and beaded tomahawks, the many beautiful
and delicate articles of the Indian's and half-breed's
skill in bcadwork (though perhaps savouring not a
little of that barbaric richness of colouring that
the savage loves), the antique coarse blue delf that
came from France two hundred years before, the
picturesque spinning-wheel in the corner, and the
many old-world things that would have delighted the
heart of a lover of bric-a-brac. But, still, all these
familiar things did not seem to bring any sense of
comfort to her.

At last Marie threw down the shirt on which she
had sewn the refractor\- button, gave a little halt-
querulous sigh as if 01 .'lief, and said —

*' Do you know, Jeannette, I don't believe it is in
the nature of any human being to be ever really
happy. When we were upon the prairies in Assini-
boia I used to think that if ever I could get dad to
come away to where there was some sort of civilisa-
tion, and to different scenes and associations — such
as these for instance, I could be quite happy, and

.»

.•fl

^36

SINNERS TWAIN.

now that I have had my wish, that he is liappy, and
even more prospcious than he was on the ranche,
there are times when everything tires and wearies me
until I could almost wish I were back again on
Many-l^crries Creek,"

As she spoke the roses stirred and nodded their
heads at the open window as if in assent ; there was
a subdued and drowsy m'lrmur as of myriads of busy
bees among the honeysuckle and flowers of the old-
fashioned garden ; there was a scurry and chase of
squirrels and chipmuncks across the stem of a great
fallen tree that was used as a garden seat at the far
and shady end of the lawn ; and a hawk flew past
screeching, followed and tormented by an avenging
crowd of small birds, A butterfly fluttered in through
the open window with all the colours of the rainbow
glorifying its wings ; and the spirit of that beautiful
summer's day seemed to speak through and permeate
every living thing. Surely here if anywhere one
ought to have been happy. But it is a great mistake
that modern philosophers make when they think that
it is one's physical surroundings that conduce to
happiness — it is in one's relations and associations
with humanity that one is happy or otlierwise. The
silence of the country is the worst place in the world
for a man or woman who has something to live down.
The human heart and its promptings are at all times
more potent than the mere senses ; and it is only in
work and in mixing with the busy crowd that we can

py, and
ranchc,
rics mc
jain on

:cl their
ere was
of busy
he old-
hase of
a great
the far
3\v past
venging
through
rainbow
leautiful
ermeate
ere one
mistake
ink that
duce to
)ciations
,e. The
ie world
TC down,
ill times
; only in
t we can

.fl

OVERHEARD BY THE OLD CROW.

237

ever hope to escape for a brief si)ace fri, our own
rebellious selves. Human nature is, generally si)eak-
Ing, a complex and inexplicable thing ; but perhaps
it was not so very strange, after all, that when Marie
St. Denis had left Canadian Territory with all its
troubled memories behind, the heart-whole, happy
and careless light that used to dance in her ejes
seemed to have been left behind also. There was a
subtle change in her ; and what it exactly was she
herself, perhaps, only imperfectly knew.

Suddenly old Jeannette turned to her, and, as if
she had read the girl's thoughts, said in a quiet,
kindly voice —

" Don't fret, Marie. If he is worth having he will
come back for you, child. If he does not come, then,
you are well rid of him : he is not worth having, and
the best thing you can do is to forget. Those troopers
are much alike, what I have seen of them."

This was what Jeannette had been trying to find
courage to say for several weeks, and now that she
had said it she was apprehensive of the consequences.

"Jeannette!" cried the girl, imploringly, the warm
blood suffusing her soft, clear skin. "You talk '^s if
I had taken you into my confidence, and as if I had
not anything else to think about. You talk as if he
— for it would be nonsense to prelend I did not know
whom you meant — had been a — a sweetheart, or
lover, or something of that sort. Why, he never once
hinted at — at the sort of thing you mean. He never

238

SINNKKS TWAIN.

acted fliffcrctitly tow.irds mc, more than any stranger
would : only that he behaved in a very friendly
manner on one occasion. I often wish now that I
had cut my tongue out instead of asking a favour ;
for I believe it cost him his po. ition. The thought of
it sometimes drives mc almost mad."

And as if she could trust herself no further, she
ro.se and turned her back, so that Jeannette could not
see her face.

" It's nothing to be ashamed of, honey ; I've been
thar myself," .said Jeannette, smiling sadly as she
thought of it. Then, with the persistent inconsistency
of some good-hearted women, she went on — " But I
think, Marie, he'll come back, if I am a judge of men
at all. I liked his face : it was an honest one. If I
have not read many books I have all my life been
learning to read faces, and in his "

But the girl had fled. She had caught up her
light straw hat, and with eyes that were strangely
dry and bright, and cheeks that were strangely
flu.shed, she had run from the picturesque homestead,
along the soft green turf that fringed the public road,
and under the shady limes and chestnuts. She
avoided the shady pasture field into which her father
was helping the manservant to drive some cattle.
She walked on till she came to a little rise, and then
she sat down on the grass.

What was this that had changed the current of her
life so, that came into her thoughts the first thing in

OVKRHKAKI) liV Till: OLD CKOW.

239

the morning, that followed her about like a shadow
all day, and that coloured her dreams at ni^dit ?
What was this thin^ that had robbed her of her
girlish peace of mind, and left her heartstrings
quivering and vibrating as if they hail been rudely
touched b)' some master hand ? What was this
thing that now seemed to her like a blessing, and
now like a curse ? What need to ask when it comes
to nearly every one sometime or other, and there is
no power on earth better known ? It is that which
makes or mars our lives, that which is older than the
hills — they change — and is the primary and most
potent infitinct of our beings ; it is that which makes
fools of philosopher and sage, and makes fools
divine ; it is that which is graven on the heart of
Time, can blossom from the very dust of death, and
is the keynote of existence.

The girl looked down the long, dusty, and tree-
fringed road, which with many a dip and gentle rise
went straight on to the nearest railroad town, some
four miles away. She could .see a figure come
travelling along slowly, about a mile or so off Now
it was on the top of a little rise, and a tiny speck it
seemed, no bigger than a fly, and then it was lost to
sight in one of the hollows ; but always it was
coming nearer and nearer.

Strange that Marie should take any interest in
watching a speck ! But how often had she built up
castles in the air regarding those tiny specks that

!4o

SINNERS TWAIN

came toiling along, and as they bore in sight
generally resolved themselvci into importunate
tramps, or even individuals of the opposite sex
— women ! She had often, for the sake of indulging
for a few brief minutes in fond expectant hope,
tortured and disappointed herself sadly, and she had
time and again resolved that she would do so no
more. But, perhaps, she did not know the strength
aud persistent nature of that thing which had taken
possession of her, for day after day her footsteps had
mechanically sought that road, and her eyes had
wandered wistfully along it.

And now the solitary figure of the traveller was
lost to sight, and again it appeared on the crest of
the rising ground. No sooner there than it shortened
and disappeared again. A flock of dusty and noisy
small birds indulged in a dust-bath within a few feet
of her in the roadway. An old crow perched on a
dead limb right above her (query — why do crows
prefer dead limbs ?), and who, by the way he
carried his head on one side, looked as if he knew
a thing or two, shut one eye in a critical fashion,
and looked down upon her inquiringly. He was
an inquisitive old crow : he had followed the girl
right up the road to see or hear what was going on.
It is sometimes just as well, perhaps, that crows can
only talk in their own language, otherwise the amount
of scandal that would be floating about the world
would be something horrible to contemplate. It is

OVERHEARD BY THE OLD CROW.

in sight
)ortunate
(site sex
ndulging
.nt hope,

she had
io so no

strength
ad taken
5teps had
eyes had

'eller was
I crest of
shortened
and noisy
a few feet
hed on a
do crows

way he
' he knew
,1 fashion,

He was
i the girl
going on.
:rows can
le amount
the world
ite. It is

a mistake to suppose that gossip and scandal arc
confined to the human race. Those who have lived
lonely lives in the bush or on the prairie, and hc7ve
had exceptional opportunities for observing, can
testify to the fact that certain kinds of birds are the
most persistent chatterboxes in the world. Then
the girl heard a hurried pattering behind her, and
Michelle, the great hound, came scampering up. It
fawned upon her, and gambolled with awkward
movements round her. " Poor Michelle," she said,
patting the dog on the hea<l ; "//^ liked you. You
never used to growl at him or be jealous of him, did
you ? "

Suddenly the dog lifted its head, turned round,
sniffed the air, looked along the road inquiringly, and
then ran a few paces forward and stopped. Dogs
have a wonderfully sympathetic sense.

Then the girl's heart seemed to stand still ; then
to start beating so violently that she placed one hand
upon her breast. Ilcr limbs trembled under her.
She stared apprehensively at the approaching figure.
There was a something that obscured her vision, for
the blood at first had rushed to her heart, leaving her
deadly pale, then had rushed to her head, making
everything, as it were, swim before her eyes, and her
heart to throb almost painfully. Had the end of the
world come— or the beginning? And now she saw
the figure was that of a tall, dark individual with the
stride of a cavalryman, who carries his toes slightly

242

SINNERS TWAIN.

turned inwards, as if there v/ere spurs on his heels.
He was dressed in ordinary civilian clothes.

The old crow on the rotten limb, whose attention
had begun to wander, roused himself all of a sudden,
and gave a significant and expectant croak.

Then the^stranger lifted his hat from his forehead
and said-^ ''

" Miss St. Denis, don't you remember me } "

The dog crept towards him, sniffed at him, and
did not growl suspiciously as was his wont at
strangers, then dashed at him with boisterous wel-
come.

" Down, Michelle ! What are you doing ? " Marie
cried to the dog, as if it were a relief to her to say
something. But it was a moment or two before she
could find her voice to talk to the stranger. There
was a wistful, hungry look in his eyes all the while.
He looked like one who was only controlling him-
self by a strong effort. Then she turned to him,
and said in the most matter-of-fact way in the
world —

'How do you do, Mr. Yorke ? This is indeed a
surprise. Who would have thought of seeing you in
this part of the world ? "

She was wonderfully self-possessed now this girl,
so much so, indeed, that perhaps it was hardly
natural. A stranger would have been puzzled just
then to have guessed in what relationship these two
stood to each other

his heels.

attention
a sudden,

; forehead

him, and

wont at

Drous wel-

r?" Marie
ner to say
before she
cr. There
the while.
)lling him-
;d to him,
ay in the

s indeed a
ing you in

w this girl,
^ras hardly
uzzled just
) these two

OVERHEARD BY THE OLD CROW.

243

Even the old crow looked puzzled for a second or
two. He knew that all men were liars in a more or
less polished or brutal way, but that this pretty slip
of a girl should have reduced it to a fine art fairly
staggered him. No wonder he was a cynical old
crow.

" I have just been wondering for ; nc months
back if you would be surprised to see me again," he
answered slowly, and somewhat irrelevantly, watching
the girl's face intently, as if he would have liked to
have drawn some inference from it. " I hope you
are glad to see me ? " he added.

" Oh, of course," she rejoined quickly, as if she
thought that perhaps she had not been quite so civil
to him as she might have been ; " and my father will
be glad to see an old friend, for you know you were
one to him."

The hound made another circular bound into the
roadway, and scattered the little birds right and 'eft.
As for the old crow, he leant back on his perch until
he was in imminent danger of falling off backwards,
and chuckled hoarsely and grimly to himself, as if he
were immensely tickled over something. He looked
as if he thanked — goodness knows what — that he
was a crow and not a stupid human being. He was
a satirical old crow, and looked as if he had indeed
seen life. An apoplectic seizure after hearing some
spicier piece of scandal than usual shall one day be
his ultimate fate. Pessimists and cynics and such-

244

SIxXNERS TWAIN.

minded creatures as this crow, by the way, are
generally those who have not only — if the truth
could only be brought home to them — run the gamut
of earthly pleasures, but by violating Nature's laws
have destroyed their capacity for further enjoyment :
it is worse than a dog-in-the-manger spirit. But
perhaps this particular old crow was not quite so bad
as some of his kind.

" JV^arie " — the girl looked up and started slightly
a she heard him pronounce her name — " is this all
you have to say to me ? is this all the welcome you
have for me ? "

The old crow became impatient and scratched his
head vigorously with one foot.

" We might shake hands," she suggested, calmly,
but with her breath coming quickly and with
heightened colour in her checks.

She held out one hand to him timidly, but he
caught both of hers — and held them.

" Ha — a, ha — a ! " cawed the old reprobate up on the
dead limb. Then he broke into a hoarse laugh, but
pulled himself up short, and tried to look as if he
had only been clearing his throat. He wanted to see
the whole of the comedy.

Harry Yorke looked steadily into her eyes, and
she in turn looked shyly into his as he held her in
front of him.

" Marie," he said again, after an awkward pause,
" do you know what has brought me here ? "

OVERHEARD BY THE OLD CROW.

245

ray, are
le truth
e gamut
•e's laws
Dyment :
-it. But
2 SO bad

slightly

this all

Dme you

ched his

, calmly,
nd with

, but he

ip on the

lugh, but

as if he

cd to see

yes, and
d her in

d pause,

" Why— why do you ask me this ? " she asked,
evasively ; but she was shaking like a leaf, and her
eyes were fixed on the ground before her.

"Because I wanted to tell you that you have," was
the answer. " I want you to tell me that I have not
done wrong in coming, and that you are glad to see
me."

" Don't you think you are asking me to undertake
a rather heavy contract ? " she rejoined, the per-
verse and inscrutable promptings of old Mother Eve
and the instincts of her better self each having their
share in the framing and significance of this question.
" Heavy !" he repeated, somewhat taken aback, and
a sudden sense of fear seizing him. " Is it, then,
such a very hard thing to do > "

" But is it necessary to do it ? " she persisted,
ignoring his question.

"What do you mean?" he asked, fearfully, still
impenetrable to the drift of her protest. There is no
more stupid creature under the sun than a man when
he is in love. " What is it you imply ? "

" That you are like Thomas— of little faith," was
the comment, with unruffled severity, " since you
think it necessary to probe an old wound and view
the print of the nails. Is there not anything you can
take on trust .'* "

The old crow on the rotten limb lost patience with
the short-sighted male animal at this point, and swore
at him in a way that only a crow or a Queensland

V- *■■

246

SINNERS TWAIN.

bullock-drivcr can. He had a sense of the fitness of
things at times, this old crow.

But wh2n she lifted her eyes from the ground and
looked into his he understood her. He drew her to
him after the manner of lovers from time immemorial
and kissed her. " I thought you would come ba'k to
me," she cried, in a broken voice. There was nothing
enigmatical in her talk now ; had there been, the way
she kissed him on the lips would have explained
matters.

They lingered there so long — as lovers will
linger — holding each other's hands, and talking
about such trivial things in such tragical tones
— the usual things, the usual tones — that Michelle,
the hound, grew disgusted at the want of attention
paid him, and trotted off home with his tail between
his legs. The sun had disappeared over the tree-tops
when these two happy ones wandered back to the
farm-house hand in hand, to have a talk with Gabriel,
and to confirm Jeannette in her belief that she was a
prophet.

As for the old crow, who was in no particular hurry
home — he belonged to the Order of the Latchkey —
he chattered and chuckled to himself in a most out-
rageous fashion ; rolled his head about till he became
giddy ; made matters worse by trying to stand
rakishly on one leg, and nearly fell off his perch ;
swore so terribly at this that he choked, gasped for
breath, and recovered ; got struck with a new idea ;

ar hurry
:chkey —
lost out-
; became
;o stand
s perch ;
isped for
ew idea ;

OVERHEARD BY THE OLD CROW.

2-17

icss of

nd and
' her to
smorial
ba'k to
lothing
he way
plained

winked, but kept closing both eyes at once ; leered
horribly instead, and generally misconducted himself
after the manner of elderly crows who have led a
fast life. Old crows are ten times worse than young
ones. Then he flew off to retail his own version of
the affair to his own particular cronies— mostly like
himself— at his own particular club. Crows are such
inveterate gossips.

;rs will
talking
1 tones
lichelle,
ttention
between
ree-tops
: to the
Gabriel,
le was a

THE END.