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mtmmm

Comrades Three!

A Story of the Canadian Prairies

ARGYLL SAXBY .

Author of

" The Taming of the Rancher ; " " Brave Toviak ; "

" Braves, White and Red," etc.

WITH SIX ILLUSTRATIONS BY ERNEST PRATER

TORONTO
THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY

LIMITED

DEC 3 1974"

ijijii III ill, 1 1 mmnm'Kmtmmm

TIIK hoy's mare KKARKI) STRAICHT VV on HKR HIM) I.KC.S,

rilROWINC, THK RIDKR VIOI.KNTl.Y TO THK dROU.ND.''

LA 15-

CONTENTS

OBAPTKR

I. A BACE WITH DEATH
II. OLD CHUMS
III. CONFIDENCES . . .

IV. THE WHISKY SMUGGLER .
V. CALVERT'S RANCH .
VL WHY PIERRE HATED.
VII. THE REVOLT OF BLACK CLOUD
VIII. RANCH LIFE
IX. PIERRE'S ART .
Z. THE SPRITE IN THE RAVINE
XI. A TIMELY RESCUE .
XII. SERGEANT WOODROW
XIII. dick's SECRET .
XIV. WOODROW'S CLUE
XV. SOME HORSE TALK .
XVI. THE SMUGGLER TURNED MAN
XVII. HORSE-THIEVES !

JPAOD

102

113

128

137

148

169

171

178

193

viii Contents

OBArTBR FAOa

XVIII. btewart's genius 20'»

XIX. TRAPPED ! 207

XX. THE BLIZZARD 221

XXI. THK serpents' CAVE 229

XXII. A half-breed's stratagem 240

XXIII. TRIAL BY TORTURE 251

XXIV. BLACK cloud's " REVENGE" 256

XXV. WILLIE CREWES 269

XXVI. will's "duty" 276

XXVII. PIERRE'S LAST FIGHT 285

XXVIII. COMRADES ALL ! 298

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAOB

"the boy's mare reared straight up on her hind

LEGS, throwing THE RIDER VIOLENTLY TO THE

ground" Frontispiece

"LAYING HIS CLUB AROUND HIM, HE CHARGED THE MOB" 75

" * FIRE STRAIGHT INTO HIS MOUTH ! TAKE CARE ! WATCH

MY HANDS ! '" 133

"then a BLAST OF WIND SENT THE TONGUES OP FLAME

LEAPING GREEDILY TOWARDS HIM" . . . .183

"THE HULKING COWARD ROLLED TO THE GROUND LIKE A

FELLED ox" 211

"for a CHILD— red OR WHITE — BLACK CLOUD WOULD

GLADLY GIVE HIS LIFE" 265

^thictittb

JESSIE M. E. SAXBY,
MY MOTHER.

COMRADES THREE !

CEAPTER I.

A RACE WITH DEATH.

IT was springtime — that season when the
prairie, valley, and woodland each put on a
glorious, verdant robe, and when the flov/era
fairly start out of the ground and laugh with
joy that the cold months of winter have passed.
The musk-rat and beaver then begin to repair
their homes that the ice and flood have tried to
wreck. The chipmunks skip from branch to
branch in the bush as you pass, and chirrup a
joyful challenge to you to chase them. Ducks
resume their chatting parties in the creeks ;
skylarks soar high above the tree tops and
circling buzzards ; and your broncho raises his
head at intervals, with distended nostrils,
sniffing the aroma of the living earth, then tugs
at the rein with a longing to stretch his limbs
across the prairie with the sheer delight of con-
scious life.

Nowhere in all the world is springtime rich

wmm

Comrades Three!

a spring as Canada can boast. It seems but
yesterday when the cold white silence of winter
wrapped all in a mantle of death. And then
to-day it seems that Nature puts forth all her
strength, throws aside the clinging pall, and
stands upright — strong, fragrant, and smiling in
hopeful youth.

Such must be the thoughts of everyone who
knows Canada with more than a mere bowing
acquaintanceship, and such were Fred Calvert's
thoughts ont xnorning as he rode leisurely along
the trail that led through the bush by the silver
river that flows in the bed of the Wascana Valley.

True, such dreaming thoughts seemed unsuit-
able for one who was five miles from his ranch,
hunting a bunch of bronchoes that had strayed
from the home herd during the night. Under
such circumstances one might have supposed
that an anxious mind would breed more practical
thoughts, such as the possible tracks to be found
where the moist trail would retain traces of
hoof-prints. But Calvert was an English youth
whose seventeen years of life on English soil
and four on the North-West still retained the
Cornishman's love for the beautiful and his love
for romance. Though his dress, the broncho,
the Mexican saddle, and the lariat, all spoke of
the thorough rancher that he had become, there
was that in the blue of his eyes that reflected the
blue seas that thrash the rugged shores of his

- 12

Mta~—

A Race with Death

native home. He was a young Cornish giant,
every inch of him, clothed in the cowboy's garb
that added to his manliness without burying his
nationality.

So, for the time, he forgot the quest that had
taken him so far from his shanty.

Perhaps he was dreaming somewhat of the
pasties and cream that he had forsaken at the
call of Johnnie-cakes and maple syrup. Perhaps
(and more probably) he was just revelling in the
picture that the Master Artist had painted.
But whatever his thoughts might have been, they
were certainly happy ones, for he just allowed
his horse to pursue its way at will, v/hile his lips
smiled contentedly and his eyes looked into dis-
tance, seeing everything, yet observing nothing.

Following the winding trail, he rounded
a cluster of trees, and then his wandering
thoughts received a sudden check, for, without'
any warning, he found himself close to another
rider, who was allowing his horse also to move
at ease while he sat idly in the saddle with the
reins lying loosely on the horse's neck.

The second rider was a boy of little more than
fifteen years of age — Stewart Edyvean was his
name. He, also, was dressed in the suitable
garb of the West, and there was no mistaking the
sturdy set of his figure, the honest blue eyes,
and the lips that seemed to be ever twitching to
let free a laugh — there was no mistaking these

i !

Comrades Three !

for evidences of a thoroughly British boy, bred
in an English public school that had painted him
from head to foot with the sign " gentleman."
Like Calvert, he, too, seemed to be fascinated
by his surroundings, but, unlike the former, he
was evidently a novice, for no one but a tender-
foot ever trusts the uncertain temper of the
quietest broncho by allowing it the fireedom of
a loose rein.

So quiet had been Calvert's approach on the
soft soil, that his coming had been unheard by
the idle horse and rider. Bemg on the lea-side,
even the broncho had not scented the stranger.

Calvert expressed his surprise in a fairly loud
** Hullo ! " not very vehement, perhaps, but quite
sufficiently audible and sudden to startle the
idle pair who believed themselves safe from
any interruption in their solitude.

At the first sound of the stranger's voice, the
boy's mount threw up her head and leaped to
one side as though she had been struck by a
bullet. The lad made a grab to regain the reins,
but the sudden action only added to the animal's
fright. She reared in the air, lashed out with
her forefeet, then leaped forward with the bit
between her teeth, and in another moment was
teari ig madly across the plain straight for that
part where the river had cut its way through the
soft soil, leaving naked banks thirty feet deep
on either side.

A Race with Death

A mere flash of time served the young
rancher's mind to grasp the truth, and as
quickly he planned actions. It was plain to see
that the boy was no adept in baulking the tricks
of bronchoes. Plainer stUl was the truth that
the mad creature would only stop its wild course
when she was faced by the river bank. That
would mean death to rider and steed !

But Bess was under perfect control — a herd
horse trained to race or stand at the word.

*' On, Bess ! " he shouted, and at the sound
the mare darted forward like an arrow from the
bow. Then with steady deftness he loosened
the lasso from the thong that held it at the
front of the saddle, and fastened one end to the
pommel before him. His spurs dug into the
mare's sides, and doubled her paces on the
instant. And from that moment began one of
those races the like of which is never seen on
any course but that which seems to have Death
for the winning post.

The boy's horse had a good start of its pursuer,
but after the first frantic dash she verged a little
from the direct route taken at the outset, thus
giving Calvert a chance to gain a few valuable
yards in the contest.

From the beginning, the lad managed to
retain his seat, and pluckily struggled to control
the frightened steed. But these efforts only
served to add to the horse's terror, until at

8 r(i

Comrades Three!

length* the boy could do little more than sit
tight and hope for the best, intending to throw
himself from the saddle as soon as the option of
the rocks and torrent was inevitable.

" Now, Bess, now I .On ! on ! " cried Calvert,
bending down to give less resistance to air ; and
the brave mare, seeniing to understand the
motive of the desperate chase, strained the more
in obedience to the words.

A mile more to the river !

The distance between the riders was still
considerable, but it was lessening with every
stretch of the sinewy limbs.

" Keep it up, Bess 1 We are gaining every
second ! "

The spurs sank deep again into the already
streaming flesh ; a faint murmur of pain came
from the brave mare, though her breathing was
still sound, and the distance between the riders
decreased to fifty yards, though the rush of the
river could now be heard above the wind that
whistled past the rider in his flight.

" Courage, youngster ! Courage ! " called
Calvert. And in answer, the boy turned a face
of horror towards his pursuer.

" What can he do ? What can save me now ? "
were the thoughts that flashed through his
mind. But his heart gained a little strength as
he saw Bess creeping nearer and nearer — not a
speck of foam on her lips ; not a pant from the

■ ": ' 16 ^ ■-.■ : / -, V.

I'-ai

'k'' ^g

' if

%<,

' A Race with Death

brave form that would die rather than be beaten
in this race for life.

Only some fifty more yards to the river I

" Bend close ! " cried Calvert. " Hold on for
your life, but clear yoar stirrups for a fall ! "

Though hardly understanding the meaning of
the order, the boy bent close to the horse's neck,
and clung with the obedience of fear.
^ Then, for a moment only, Calvert sat upright
in the saddle, allowing the reins to hang on the
pommel while he gripped the coil of raw-hide lasso
in his left hand with the six-foot loop in his right.

One, two, three times the loop was swung
above him in the air until it opened wide in a
circle. Then came a whizzing sound as the
lasso flashed from the deft hand ; a sure aim
carried the noose over the mad broncho's head ;
and at a word Bess stopped so quickly that
Calvert was nearly jerked from the saddle.
Immediately came a sudden tauting of the lariat
like the twang of a violin string. But the hide
was strong, and Bess knew her work when she
felt the strain on the pommel, for she sat back on
her haunches, and dug her fore-hoofs into the
ground. The boy's mare gave vent to a choking
scream, reared straight up on her hind legs,
throwing the rider violently to the ground as
she did so. Then she came crashing backwards,
and fell lifeless with a broken neck — not six
yards from the steep bank and rocks of the river.

. 'i

}

-»

CHAPTER II.

OLD CHUMS.

^ALVERT was only an instant in dismount-
ing. A glance at the prostrate mare had
been sufficient to indicate that she was beyond
need of help, for her neck had been broken by
the terrible tug of the lariat and the backward
fall. All the rescuer did was to free the lasso,
and then hurry to the boy who was lying motion-
less on the long grass.

On first sight Fred's heart sank, for the lad's
pale face and bleeding forehead, together with
the inert position in which he lay, all suggested
that the rescue had been in vain.

He knelt down and raised the lad's head to
rest on his knee. He felt the heart, and to his
joy found that it still beat — very weakly, but
still enough to show that life still flickered in
spite of the terrible fall that would have dashed
the breath out of all but a sturdy Cornish frame.

Taking off his coat and rolling it up to form a
pillow, Calvert placed Steward; in as comfortable
a position as the circumstances would permit.
Afterwards he took his handkerchief and scaled

Old Chums

down the steep bank of the river to soak the
linen in the water. Quickly returning, he
squeezed a little of the water upon the boy's
white lips, and wiped the blood from the wound
on the forehead. The touch of the moisture was
cool and soothing, and to the young rancher's
delight he soon saw the colour beginning to creep
back into the suflferer's cheeks.

"That's better, old man," he said encourag-
ingly, and the words seemed to recall the
wandering senses, for the eyelids were slowly
raised, and two blue eyes looked up vacantly.

"Where am I? What's the matter?" he
muttered feebly.

"You're perfectly safe, old chap. You've
had a slight accident — not very much, fortun-
ately ; and if you just lie still for a while you'll
soon be right as a trivet again," was Calvert's
answer.

The lad closed his eyes again, and remained
silent and motionless for some moments.

"My head — it aches," he said after a time.
" Am I hurt ? And Dandy— the mare ? "

" She has suffered the penalty for her bad
behaviour. And serve her jolly well right, too,
for she might have killed you. By good luck
you've got off with a slight cut on your brow —
more blood than cut, luckily."

The light of recollection seemed to be creeping
back into Stewart's mind, for his face began to
-^2 19

Comrades Three !

brighten and lose the recent expression of
vacancy.

" Oh, yes ; I remember now. Dandy bolted
with me, and you came after on your mare like
the wind. I remember hearing the river on the
rocks — hoaring you calling, and seeing you
swinging ^he lariat. After that, everything
turned black ; but — but surely you saved my
life ? "

The boy's voice trembled with the force of
intense gratitude, and his weak fingers crept for-
ward to grip one of the strong brown hands that
was lying on his breast.

Calvert blushed shamefacedly, as most brave
chaps do when their bravery is discovered.

*' Rot, old man ! A good mare under me, and
a lucky cast of the lasso — what are these ?
Don't you worry on that score."

"Still, it was your hand that guided the
lasso," the other persisted.

" Humph ! " Fred grunted with self-deprecia-
tion. " Do you think a Cornishman was going
to be beaten in any sort of race without a good
struggle for the winning-post ? "

The effect of these last words was miraculous,
for at the word "Cornishman" Stewart gave a
start — thoroughly roused from his stupor.

" Cornishman ! " he exclaimed with excitement.
" Did you say ' Cornishman ' ? Why, I'm from
Wadebridge ! "

) I

Old Chums

" You don't say so ? " returned Fred with equal
astonishment. "I a^n from Launceston — an old
Dunmere boy ! "

" Dunmere I " was the echo. It was indeed a
morning of events and surprises. ** Why, that's
my old school, and my brother Dick's ! "

That intimation was an illumination to Calvert,
but he was hardly able to credit the coincidence
at first.

" Not Dick Edyvean of Trevanson ? " he ejacu-
lated.

" Middle stump, first ball ! " was the ready
confirmation of the surmise.

" Why, then, we're old chums ! " was Fred's
next remark. " Old Dick Edyvean was my fag
when he was a junior, and I think I remember
you coming the year before I left. Your name
ought to be * Stewart.' "

" Right— and yours ? "

" Calvert—Fred Calvert."

" Who helped Wadebridge to lick Penzance in
a cup-tie — nine goals to m7 .^ "

*' The same," replied Fred, with a little pardon-
able pride in the admission. "But enough of
introductions. Our first business is to get you
home. How far is it to your shak ? "

" About three or four miles, I should think,"
was the reply.

Calvert shook his head with mock seriousness.

" I'm not particularly fond of walking," he said

Comrades Three !

regretfully. " But I suppose what must be can-
not be avoided."

Stewart raised his eyes questioningly.

** Why need you walk ? You have gol your
mare, have you not ? Or has she bolted 1 "

At this question Fred could not restrain a
light laugh.

" Bolted ! Bess bolt ! Why, she'd as soon
think of flying to the skies. No, no, my son.
It was of you I was thinking. Fact is — though
you've not had time to notice it — your mare was
killed by my lariat, and serve her jolly well right,
as I said before, for trying on such pranks with
a Dunmere boy."

Young Edyvean's face fell considerably at this
announcement. Calvert naturally thought that
the lad was mourning for his personal loss, and
ventured to express his sympathy. But he was
undeceived.

" You needn't be sorry for me ! " was the
indignant retort. " To me it does not matter a
scrap. It was Dick I was thinking about. He
will be beastly disappointed when he knows this,
for we've not been over lucky since we came West.
Yes, he'll feel this loss very much."

But Calvert had comfort at hand.

" I think not," was his brief comment.

" Not ? Why, of course h^ will ! We can't
afford to buy bronchoes to-day and chuck them
away to-morrow. And we've found that setting

Old Chums '

up house on the prairie costs a deal more
than the emigration pamphlets lead one to
believe."

"Still," persisted Calvert, "if Dick is the
dear old chap that he used to be, it's my opinion
that he'll care less for the death of an old crock
than for the safety of his brother. Don't you
worry, old man. I know Dick, a . ^ you know
him, too, by the tone in which you speak of him."

" Dick's one of the best ! " interrupted Stewart
with genuine enthusiasm, to which Fred rejoined :
" There never was a better to my knowledge.
But now about this trip. Do you feel well enough
to ride my mtv/e if I walk alongside ? "

" I think so," said Stewart, and at the same
time he made an effort to rise, but immediately
fell back faint upon Calvert's arm.

** Come, come I " remonstrated his friend
kindly. " You mustn't go playing the fool like
that. See ; you lie quite still and I'll lift you up
in my arms."

Suiting the action to the word, Calvert passed
his arms under the lad and mnnaged to raise him.
Then he whistled to his mare. A short neigh
"rom near at hand answered the summons, and
in half a minute Bess trotted up to her master's
side.

" Now, Bess, you must walk very slowly and
steadily," said the young rancher as he eased
[his charge on to the saddle. "You've got

Comrades Three !

another Dunmere chap for a guest, so be on your
best behaviour." Then to Stewart : ** How's
that, old boy ? Quite comfy ? "

" All right, thanks," returned Stewart, pluckily
trying to overcome the tendency to faintness that
refused to be shaken off all at once.

" Then, just sit tight. Bess will walk by me
without steering. And if you feel like falling,
fall on me. I can stand it."

Talking brightly to make Stewart forget his
pain, Fred started Bess on the way. The mare,
on her part, seemed to understand the responsi-
bility of her trust, for she moved as easily as
a ship on a lake — carefully avoiding badger-
holes and anything else that might roughen the
path for the comfort of her charge. It was
a considerable journey under the circumstances,
but Calvert was patient and cheerful, and
Stewart was plucky, after the manner of his
Cornish forebears.

By and by the travellers came to a bend of
the trail by a certain poplar bluff.

Here Edy vean called a halt.

" Our house is just a hundred yards or so on
the fiat beyond this," he explained. " See !
There's Dick through the trees standing at the
door of the shanty — on the lookout for me,
most likely. I'll ride on ahead, and you can
follow after, if you don't mind. It would scare
the old boy out of his life if he were to see me

i- i

Old Chums

arrive on a strange broncho and leaning upon

you."

Without waiting for assent to his wish,
Stewart then suddenly " pulled himself together."
He gathered up the reins, and with a touch of
his heels set the mare cantering round the bluff
towards the house.

Dick, who was some five years older than
Stewart, had been expecting his brother for
some time, and now, as the boy approached, he
stepped forward.

" Why, Stewart, what a time you have been I
I was beginning to fear that something had
happened to you."

" Oh, I'm all right ! " returned the boy cheer-
fully, as he neared his brother. " I've had
a wonderful adventure. I met old Calvert of
Dunmere — and — he — we "

The last words were lost in a faint moan.
The horse stopped before the door in obedience
to a pull on the rein. Then Stewart swayed in
the saddle, and Dick had just time to spring
forward and catch his brother as he rolled from
the mare's back, fainting and deathly white.

CHAPTER III.

CONFIDENCES.

V}i7ITH a heart filled with all sorts of strange
fears, Dick quickly carried his brother
into the house.

Heedless of the horse left unfastened outside
— not even observing the unfamiliar animal or
its trappings — he gave all his attention to the
boy, gently forcing him to drink a little water,
and bathing his brow where the dry blood was
visible under the fair hair.

The attack of faintness was only slight, how-
ever, and soon Stewart was able to sit up and
give a rapid account of himself. It was a most
disjointed story ; but it contained the main facts
of the morning's adventure, and included the
astonishing tale of the meeting with Calvert.

" If it had not been for Calvert, I should have
been killed for certain," he concluded. " Calvert
saved my life, and — by the way, whtre is
Calvert ? "

With this sudden question the speaker stopped,
and Dick, thus abruptly recalled to the know-
ledge that there were other duties to be attended

V\l

Confidences

to besides those that immediately concerned his
brother, hastened to the door and looked out.

And there was the young hero himself ! He
was standing beside Bess, smoking, v^rhile he
re-lengthened the stirrup-leathers to suit his
longer limbs. Seemingly he was as unconcerned
as if saving lives were everyday occurrences
with him.

Dick was by his old friend's side in an instant.

" Calvert, old chap ! I am glad to see you ! "
he exclaimed, running forward, and immediately
beginning to wring his old friend's hand.

The fervent grip was returned with no lessen-
ing of fervency, though the remark that accom-
panied it was characteristic.

"Sandow's Developer has done wonders in
strengthening your power of grip ! I remember
you were just beginning to take it up when I
left Dunmere. Do you still keep it going ? "

But Dick's delight at meeting with his old
friend left no attention to matters of chaff.

" Come in ! Come in ! It's like a bit of
home to see you again. Why did you stay
outside ? "

" I thought it probable that Stewart would
want to have a bit of a yarn with you about one
thing and another before a stranger pushed in
i his nose. Is he better ? "

"He fainted at the door," said Dick. "It
[was getting him round again, and listening to

Comrades Three!

his story after that took the time and made me
seem so inhospitable, indeed, until he told me,
I never even noticed that he had arrived on a
strange horse ! I was so excited about his state."

"Naturally," returned Calvert. "But you
say that he's all right again "? "

" A little weak ; nothing more. But come in
and have grub with us ! It will be dinner-time
in half an hour or so."

" Right you are," agreed Calvert, nothing loath
to the prospect of a )"arn with old chums now
that he felt sure that with Stewart's recovery he
would not be in the way. " I guess I'd better
fix up Bess first in the stable, if you don't mind.
If it is to be a case of old Dunmere boys swop-
ping yarns, it will be supper-time before we start
out on the trail again."

"I don't care if it be midnight, or to-morrow,
or a month hence ; you've got to stay now ! "
returned Dick, laughing. " Besides, I have got
to thank you for what you did for Stewart.
That will take more than a few minutes ! "

" It seems to me that it was Stewart's poor
mare that I did for," punned Calvert. " You
will not be so ready to thank me for that piece
of business, I reckon."

" I am grateful for anything, so long as
Stewart is safe," was the honest reply. " He is
all that I have in the world. His safety means
everything, as far as my happiness is concerned."

Confidences

There was something wonderfully touching
and yet thoroughly manly in the tone with
which Dick referred to his brother, that Calvert's
bantering manner was immediately checked, and
he turned to his companion with a sympathetic
look in his eyes.

"I understand, old man," he said quietly.
" You are just the same good fellow that I knew
at Dunmere — not the least bit of a change in you.
Stewart is lucky."

After a comfortable corner had been found in
the stable for the gallant Bess, the friends
returned to the house. There they found Stewart
marvellously bright, considering his recent little
adventure. Indeed, he had been more shaken
than seriously hurt.

With the readiness of a chef, Dick soon made
all the necessary preparations for dinner, Calvert
doing his share of potato-peeling and setting the
table. Then, after the meal was over and the
dishes washed, the three friends sat down to spin
their several yarns.

What an exchanging of stories took place 1
Calvert hr.d naturally the majority of adven-
tures to relate, for he had been in the West
upwards of three years. Yet the Edyveans had
their share, for is not the first year in new
circumstances the one that is crowded with
more adventures than any of the succeeding
ones? When everything is new, every fresh

Comrades Three !

experience is an adventure, and the brothers,
having to make many a shift for lack of ample
means such as had smoothed Calvert's pathway,
had known considerable ups and downs during
their brief acquaintance with the ways of the
new land.

Yes, many were the stories that were related
that afternoon. But there was a difference in
them. While Calvert had but little to say con-
cerning his ranch that did not chronicle gradual
success, it was evident to the y^ung guest that
the burden of each tale that the Edyveans told was
lacking in that sort of enthusiasm that follows
encouraging experiences. Not that either Dick
or Stewart intentionally conveyed any impres-
sions other than those of contentment and hope.
Not that there was a word of complaint. But
there were certain signs in word and tone that
gave Calvert the idea that the first nine months
or so had not been altogether what the plucky
brothers must have hoped for.

There was another matter that Fred could not
avoid noticing. There was a certain reticence,
or even silence on occasions, that frequently
followed any pointed questions regarding school
matters in general, and old school friends in
particular. He had also tried to fathom the
reason why Dick had so suddenly thrown up the
prospect of a university career. From his first
Junior Form days at Dunmere, it had always

•oa

Confidences

others,

ample
thway,
during
of the

nee in

y con-
jradual

;t that

)ld was

•ollows

r Dick

npres-

hope.

But

e that

■

lonths

)lucky

Id not

cence.

iiently
school

■ ■■'■■;

ids in

n the

,"' y

ip the
3 first

■(

Iways

been an understood thing that Dick Edyvean
would one day be " Doctor Edyvean." He had
always been tacitly considered the future
academic star of the College, and it was difficult
for the uninformed to understand why such
prospects should have been suddenly cancelled
in favour of the precarious life of a farmer in
western Canada.

The explanation came, however, during that
afternoon when, towards tea-time, Stewart was
absent feeding his chickens and performing a few
of the necessary chores before the night fell.
Then it was that Dick turned confidentially to
his companion and unburdened his mind of
matters that he felt must necessarily be told
immediately in order to avoid possible future
misunderstandings.

"See here, old man," he began, "there is
something that I want to say to you while
Stewart is out of the way — something that I am
sure you ought to know at once. I have seen by
I your face that you have been surprised at — at
certain things "

The speaker stopped for a moment and
j Calvert interposed kindly. " Yes ; you are right,
j Certain little things have caused me to wonder ;
^but, after all, they are none of my business."

" They are your business. That is just what
|I mean," returned Dick forcibly. "And you
[have a right to know what these matters are

Comrades Three !

before you take us as your friends. I do not
wish to have any fellow's friendship under false
pretences."

" False pretences ! " echoed Calvert in surprise,
not only at Dick's words, but also at the deeply
serious tone that he employed. But the
flickering impression that his companion was
making game of him was quickly dispelled by
the latter's confirming words.

"That is exactly what I mean. It would
be ' false pretences ' to make you our friend and,
perhaps, to take benefit from your advice and
friendship, all the time leaving it to chance
for you to find out that we are here — under
disgrace."

At the last two words, Fred fairly jumped
from his chair.

"Disgrace! My dear Edyvean, what can
you be talking about ? But there ; of course
this is one of your larks — something got up just
to have a game with me, or perhaps to see what
stuff I am made of ! If that's your idea, then
understand that I am not a chap who turns his
back upon his chums for any reason. But then
the whole thing is preposterous. An Edyvean
in disgrace ! " And the generous-hearted fellow
laughed aloud at the idea, little dreaming
that his very faith was making the task of confess-
ing even harder than it would have been before.
But Dick set his lip and faced the ordeal.

32 ■-.- . :- :■_ - • •

'I'lflMM

Confidences

" Once upon a time, Calvert, I thought as you
do now, and would have scoffed at the suggestion
just as you do. But time alters possibilities,
and gives us reasons for changing our opinions
on many things. Still, believe it or not, I am
bound to tell you the truth. Stewart and I are
indeed in disgrace. We have been kicked out
of Dunmere. You must believe me ! I am
not the fellow to joke on such a subject as
that."

If Calvert had been astonished before, he was
now so astounded that for a moment or two he
could not speak. All he could do was to stand
and stare in amazement.

" Even now you don't believe me ! " remarked
Dick with a sad smile.

" It isn't that," stammered the other youth.
**I don't exactly doubt you, but I think that
I can't have quite understood you. You mean
to say that you were "

Calvert stopped, reluctant to put the ugly
word in its place. Dick completed the sentence
for him: "Expelled? Yes. That is just what
I do mean."

Again there followed a painful silence.

Do you know what it is to honour your school
as a present scholar, dear reader ? Of course
you do. And so you also know how it makes
your blood boil to hear your school miscalled, or
to hear of any fellow disgracing it. And when a

Comrades Three !

>,„j from school, what does
fellow has ^een expelled ^^^^ ^^ ^^ ^

^'^^^ r: to s« ly th e to name of t'. place
something to suiiy ^^q ? ot

that you ho"°^\^^, SI you not feel a sort
course it does .^''^J^^J^ you were to meet
of antipathy if, -;J^;&I ,,a of disgrace
the fellow who had brougn ^ , That m

to smirch the name you hon

llmcst a neejless q— ; ^U perhap.

would feel hke that. »^ ^„t he would

Lnhisbackupon sujape« n ^^^^^ ^^

certainly feel tha the kno .
enough to prevent him ana ^^^ ^^^^

ever becoming fast ft^d^^^ ^^^ ^,^ school
acquaintances. ^'^'^^ '° , ^re over. It is a

does not die when ^-^^f Jj^^^^s of old men.

sentiment that lives i« ^he be ^

It is a sacred ^ff "'^yfl. p^ the sake of the
^an in a strair. road^ that have kept many
old school ! are woru , ye deeds,

a young man i^^-^^l'^fJ^ZZ thoughts that

^'^'^'^ " S^^r throuh Calvert's mind during
were crowding ttirougu revelation.

The silence that W^^ti 'S^d that nothing

Bravely -"^l^^^ LtTback on an old
would cause him to turn n ^^^^^

chum. But it IS ---^;^^Jthe strength of
bold assertions. We never ^ ^

Confidences

i] 2 place
own "? Of
feel a sort
jre to meet
of disgrace
] That is
lecent chap
)t, perhaps,
at he would
J would he
person from
iven trusted
3 old school
(Ver. It IS a
, of old men.
nany a young
e sake of the
e kept many
rable deeds,
thoughts that
, mind during
ik's revelation.
I that nothing
,ack on an old
IS to make such
• the strength of
. it was a great
iscover that, on

his own admission, Edyvean had apparently
dishonoured the name of Dunmere.

While Dick had been speaking, Fred had
walked slowly to the window and stood there,
looking out thoughtfully. During the pause,
however, he turned to look at his friend. Dick
was now sitting half-turned aside. But his face
was quite visible, and Calvert's first thought was
that the observable flush was one of shame. But
a more careful study revealed something different.
It was not shame that he saw there — at least,
not shame for an evil deed. Tt was the sorrow
of a sufferer that was manifest — that of a patient
sufferer, too ; and Calvert's generous nature
rushed out in sympathy and forced aside any
biassed feelings that had first evidenced them-
selves in his mind.

"Look here, Dick, old man!" he said
impulsively. " I'll own that what you have told
me has come as a bit of a blow. But I am sure
there is something else that you can tell me —
something that would explain everything, and
put matters in quite a different light. If you
had to leave Dunmere, well — there was some mis-
understanding. Of that I am certain. I have
said that an Edyrean never did a dishonourable
thing in his life, and I stick to it. He always
played straight. That is enough for me. Say
no more."

At this great evidence of true friendship

3 35

Comrades Three !

which trusts in the face of all things, a smile of
gratitude suddenly burst over Dick's face.

" Thanks, Calvert ! A thousand thanks ! I
had almost begun to think that it was going to
be too much for you to forgive after all. But it
is true what you say : * An Edy vean never did do
a mean trick.' But one did something wrong
believing it to be right. For that he had to
suffer. Do you remember Warrington's Inn ? "

"Indeed I do. It was a regular fester-spot
for tempting fellows to gambling and drink.
But what of that ? "

" Warrington's was * out of bounds ' in your
day as well as in mine."

" Expulsion was the penalty for going there,"
recalled Calvert. Afterwards he added with
a sudden, horrible thought, "You don't mean
to say — that you — that Stewart "

" He was discovered going there twice," added
Dick solemnly.

" To drink — to gamble ? " questioned the
elder, in awe at the thought. But Dick gave
a cold laugh at the question.

"You little know my brother if you think
that could be possible," he responded. " Stewart
is too honest for that sort of thing, and no
honest fellow drinks or gambles. No ; he did
neither. All the same he went there secretly,
and, when caught, refused to explain why he
went. And so — he had to pay the penalty."

Confidences

a smile of
ace.

;hanks ! I
IS going to
11. But it
3ver did do
ling wrong
he had to
a's Inn ? "
fester-spot
and drink.

s* in your

)ing there,"
idded with
lon't mean

dee," added

bioned the
Dick gave

you think
" Stewart
ag, and no
?To; he did
re secretly,
lin why he
)enalty."

"But why? Why?" asked Fred excitedly,
for, of course, knowing nothing of the circum-
stances, the matter was a strange puzzle to him.
*' If he did not go there for his own purposes,
surely there must have been some other side
to the question that could have been easily
explained to clear his character ? "
Edyvean sighed heavily.
" You are right ; there was another side to the
luestion, but it was one that he felt in honour
ound to keep to himself. I know what that
* other side ' was, but I learned it as an unwilling
i^ eavesdropper, and consequently I may not betray
Stewart's secret until he himself confides in me
,nd gives me permission. Poor kiddie ! If the
orld only knew as much as I do, there is not
•ne who would not say that his was one of the
ravest deeds a boy ever did. And you have no
idea how plucky he has been over it all I I can
e sometimes that he is brooding over the
emory of his disgrace, and that he would only
le too glad if he could ease the pain by opening
^^is heart to me. But he keeps a straight lip all
ihe time. Not a word does he ever let slip to

phow that he regrets what he has done; only "

I Dick stopped suddenly in his narrative, feeling
Ithat he was nearing dangerous ground, and that
jke had almost been betrayed into saying more
^ ' an he had a right to say. But Calvert, in his
uiet way, completed the unfinished sentence —

Comrades Three !

" Only — you think that it would be a load off
the youngster's mind if the other chap would
confess to the world why it was that Stewart
allowed himself to suffer in place of the real
offender ! Eh ? "

So quickly had Calvert penetrated the truth
of what had puzzled both boys and masters at
Dunmere, that Dick was at once startled into
an exclamation that was almost an admission.

" Then you — know f "

" Know ! Not I. That is to say, I know no
more than what you have told me. But I know
the Edyveans well enough, and it does not take
much brain to see that one of that race would
not suffer disgrace unless it was to spare a friend.
Don't you remember that famous Easter sermon
that the Head gave us once, when he said :
'Christ suffered disgrace that men might live
honourable lives'? It was the one that was
printed in the school magazine." For a moment,
then, Calvert paused. He seemed to be searching
for some suitable words to express his feelings.
Suddenly he turned and threw forward his arms
with an impulsive gesture.

*' Dick ! " he exclaimed. " It is an honour to
know such fellows as you and your brother.
I can see everything now. Stewart was sent
away ; you gave up all — the Rattray Scholarship
and the university future that you used to
dream of — you chucked all your own hopes to

Confidences

mission.

I be with him and help him through his trouble !

[Dear old man, 1 never knew that such heroes

f lived outside the covers of books."

Calvert gripped Dick's hands with a true

[friend's clasp. Edyvean returned the grip no
less fervently, but he immediately turned aside

las if too much were being made of his part in

[the tragedy.

" The whole business nearly killed the kid.

[He took brain fever, and when he recovered
the doctors said that he could not live in
Ingland. There was enough money to give
IS a start in a small way here, so — so we came
)ut West to make a home for ourselves."

While Dick had been speaking, the two
friends had moved slowly toward the outer
loor. Here Calvert linked his arm into that
>f his young host.

" See here, Dick ! " he said. " I am not much
)f a hand at saying what 1 think in the right
ray, but I want you to know that I am glad
rou told me of this. It will make us greater
somrades than ever, having this knowledge
)etween us. We are friends for life now, and

|t will be our business to make this home of
rours the best and happiest in the land."

" Thanks, old chap," returned Dick. " I will
lever forget your kindness. It was a good
)men for our friendship when you began this
lorning by saving Stewart's life." Then he

f'rr"

Comrades Three !

paused before adding lightly with an attempt
to change the subject to a more cheerful vein :
"As for the 'home'! To tell you the truth,
I don't think that our first attempt has been
a particularly successful one, do you? Cattle
don't seem to fatten under our direction, and
vegetables don't seem to grow as well on my
farm as on others that I see around. No doubt
all these matters will improve in time. But I
thought I knew a little about farming in the
' old country ' ; now I find "

"The mistake that you and heaps of other
fellows make in supposing that what would do
in England was, of course, the proper thing for
Canada ! That is the grand mistake that hosts
of people make. Of course it would have been
much better if you had worked for a year or
two with an experienced farmer in the district
before setting up on your own. Or else you
might have done my plan — engaged an ex-
perienced Canadian hand to work the affair for
you."

"We could have hardly afforded the latter,
and although Stewart is rapidly growing strong,
it would not have been possible for him to have
undertaken regular work for some time after
coming out. So we had to do the best we
could — making our mistakes, and profiting by
our experience."

" How would it be if you were to come over

i^..

Confidences

to my place for a day or two and have a look
round ? " suggested Calvert. " I could send
one of my men over to attend to matters here,
and then we three old Dunmerites could have
a good time. But here comes Stewart. We'll
ask his opinion of my proposal."

" Not a word to him of what I have been
telling you," Dick pleaded.

" Of course not," was the reply. " But don't
forget, when the time comes for presenting the
gold medal to the hero, 1 want to be present to
call * Three Cheers ! ' "

ome over

(

r 1

CHAPTER IV.

THE WHISKY SMUGGLER.

CTEWART was anything but averse to the
proposal that Calvert had made, but the
brothers had a few chores to attend to before the
farm could be left to its own devices, even for a
few hours ; so it was some time after tea before
it was possible to begin the six miles or so that
led down the valley to the place where Calvert
had squatted.

Perhaps the reader may wonder how it was
that, living so comparatively near, the friends
had not met until more than nine months had
passed. But such occurrences are not uncommon
among busy farmers in the West. Unless
business leads one to the other, a man may live
only three miles distant from a neighbour for
years, and then only be known by name. And
the Edyveans had but few neighbours. Being
thoroughly well occupied with the preliminary
work of newcomers, they had had but little time
for the pleasures of visiting. Regina, their
nearest town, had been the chief point of all
their visitations, while accident had restricted

^t-

The Whisky Smuggler

most of their herding-rides to the opposite
direction in the Valley. True, Calvert's house
had several times been sighted in its secluded
ravine, but beyond a passing question concerning
the possible inhabitant it had not received
further attention.

Having now but one horse broken for driving
or riding purposes, Dick's mare, "Belle," was
hitched to the buckboard. She was a beautiful
creature, with a coat as black as jet. Calvert
could not restrain his admiration of the animal
as he trotted alongside on Bess.

"A fellow who can judge horse-flesh well
enough to pick that broncho in a purchase ought
to do well out here ! Of her kind, she is one of
the finest that I have ever seen."

Dick smiled his appreciation of the compli-
ment, and Stewart remarked —

" Dick * broke her in ' himself. He wouldn't
let Gatti's cowboys do it after seeing the way
they handled my poor Dandy."

" You got your stock from Gatti's ranch, did
you ? " remarked Calvert. " I can understand
now why they are such fine animals. Gatti has
some of the best bronchoes in the West, but " —
here Fred's voice indicated the conscious pride of
one who has some valuable information to give —
" you should see some of the horses on my ranch !
Believe me, I have some animals there that for
good points will lick old Gatti's oflF creation!

I : m

Comrades Three !

Moreover, I have one of the finest, if not the
finest broncho-breaker in the North- West. I don't
believe in doing anything by halves."

" Is he a Canadian ? " asked Dick.

" Not exactly. He is a native of the prairie —
a half-breed, with the greater half of his blood
that of the Redskin. What Pierre does not
know about horses is not worth any man's trouble
trying to find out. I'll introduce you later on.
Hullo ! "

Calvert stopped suddenly in his eulogy, and
drew up Bess to a sharp halt. Dick also
tightened his driving rein, for with Calvert's
exclamation a wild shriek had suddenly rent the
still air fi:om the depths of the bush towards the
left side of the trail.

" What was that ? " exclaimed the latter under
his breath.

" It sounded like the cry of some one in pain,"
decided Stewart. " Listen."

And as the three friends held their breath
awaiting the slightest sound, once again the cry
was repeated — a shrill, piercing scream that rung
through the darkness of the woods (for night had
now fallen) and chilled the blood of the hearers
with the unearthly dirge.

" What can it be ? " Dick again questioned,
and as if in answer to his question the cry was
once more repeated and echoed by many throats,
while at the same moment a fire was seen to

■Vjija

The Whisky Smuggler

light up the depths of the forest with a bright
glow.

"Indians!" was the immediate judgment of
Calvert's calmer reasoning.

"But I thought that the Indians were all
quiet and harmless ! " said Dick, to which the
elder boy rejoined —

"True; so did I. But this is something
beyond my experience. I have had many deal-
ings with the Redskins, and always found them
decent enough beggars. I knew that there was
a camp of Blackfeet in this vicinity, and I never
thought much about it since there have been no
serious outbreaks for years. But I don't like the
sound of this. My instinct tells me that there
is mischief somewhere."

The fire had by this time increased into a
considerable furnace, lighting the bush in all
directions, so that the view through the trees
greatly resembled the prospect of a great furnace
as seen through a tangle of iron bars. The
voices, too, had increased in sounl and number,
and gradually the three watchers were able to
discern figures that were dancing about and
leaping round the fire as if a tribe of demons had
been let loose.

It was a weird and unpleasant sight. For a
time the boys remained quite silent observers of
the scene, and the hubbub was swiftly increased
by the addition of drums, rattles, and empty tin

> 1

li. i

I I

Comrades Three!

cans being clashed together — all seemingly
with the sole object of swelling an aimless din.

With familiarity, the first feelings of dread
passed away, and Stewart suggested approaching
through the bush in order to get a clearer view
of the proceedings.

Nothing loath, Calvert quickly dismounted and
tied Bess to a tree. The brothers immediately
followed the example with Belle. Then they
proceeded cautiously to pick their way in single
file through trees and undergrowth, taking care
not to make any sounds that might attract
unwelcome notice to their presence.

It was not long before the boys reached a
spot where they could be close observers without
being observed, among a dense growth of berry
and creeper that fringed the encampment. But
it was not until that post was reached that the
full meaning of the disturbance became plain.

Seated on a huge log, with his back to the
fire that blazed in the middle of the camp, was
an old man whom Dick whisperingly described
as a " Father Christmas gone to seed." Indeed,
the title was remarkably apt. He had a long
white beard, and flowing hair that wore no
covering. Shaggy white eyebrows tried their
best to hide a pair of dark eyes that sparkled as
they blinked. He was dressed in a faded suit
of buckskin, fringed and torn. At his left side
lay a heap of furs and needlework of Indian art,

emingly
Is din.
n dread
coaching
!*er view

ted and
ediately
en they
n single
ing care

attract

iached a
without
of berry
It. But
bhat the
plain.
: to the
mp, was
escribed
Indeed,
a long
rore no
d their
fkled as
led suit
jft side
ian art,

!: '

i
I

The Whisky Smuggler

at his right was a wooden keg, over which his
arm was caressingly thrown.

Around this strange figure the red men were
dancing in a continually revolving circle, throw-
ing themselves about in uncouth postures ; some-
times crouching like beasts of prey ; sometimes
leaping into the air or through the flames — all
the time screaming, wailing, or clapping their
hands in frenzied clamour.

Now and then the boys would see one of the
Indians spring forward and throw some orna-
ment or portion of attire upon the heap at the
old man's side. Next, he would hold forth a
small vessel which the man would immediately
charge from the keg according to the value of
the offering. Then would follow a shriek of
delight from all beholders as the red man tossed
the liquid down his throat and leaped back again
to rejoin the moving circle.

The boys watched the scene in awe and silence,
until at last Dick exclaimed to his companions :
" This is terrible ! Who is that awful man ?
Can he be human ? "

There was no need now for caution in tone, as
the din was so great that an additional voice was
quite unnoticed.

Calvert replied with an exclamation of disgust:
" Who is he ? A standing disgrace to English-
men. That's what he is 1 Reynolds is his name.
I saw him once in the hands of the police for

Comrades Three !

trading whisky to the Indians. He was caught
almost red-handed ; but he was cute enough to
get off."

" And do you mean to say that he is now trad-
ing whisky and allowing the natives to strip
themselves to buy the spirits ? " asked Stewart
in wonder that any man could have a nature so
low as to profit himself at the degradation of his
brothers.

** It is terrible enough and true enough,"
answered Calvert. *' At the present moment he
is doing his best to make them mad with drink.
The madder they are, the more he will gain."

While Calvert was speaking, one of the Indians
suddenly sprang forward to face the place where
the boys were hiding. At first they thought
that they had certainly been discovered, but a
moment afterwards all such fears were set aside,
for the Indian was bent on other matters than
the scenting of strangers.

He was a veritable giant of a man, and one
of importance, judging by robes and feathers.
Throwing back his head, he next spread out his
arms with an action that seemed to command
silence, for instant'^ the hubbub ceased, as if all
were waiting for some feat that was to crown the
revels.

Throwing back his ermine robe, the chief tore
open his deerskin shirt. Then he seized his
large hunting-knife and pulled it from its sheath.

The Whisky Smuggler

A wild laugh burst from his lips as he waved
the shining blade in the air. Then one, two,
three times he gashed the flesh on each side of
his ;.bosom, and the red blood gushed from the
wounds.

A howl of delight greeted this disgusting
exhibition of frenzy. Again the dancing and
shrieking was resumed, and the debauch
momentarily increased in wildness.

For a considerable period the onlookers
continued to watch with disgust, though
fascinated by the strangeness of the proceedings.
They were on the point of leaving, however,
when the tumult suddenly ceased for the second
time. The boys turned, and Calvert, who knew
a smattering of the language, informed them
that some of the braves were demanding
of the old smuggler some act equally sensa-
tional to that which their chief had lately
exhibited.

Evidently this was no uncommon request,
for the old man seemed neither astonished nor
unprepared. Calling loudly, a figure (hitherto
concealed from the sight of the English boys
by a large tree near the smuggler) rose up in
answer and came near to face the man.

He was a small boy — barely ten years of age,
but sturdy for his years, as if he were one of the
wild things of the prairie that live as Nature
bids them.

Comrades Three !

man holding

y'^

:k i

li i 1

'• m 1

_... ^

LIs^

Our heroes then saw the old
a small tankard towards the lad, and, apparently,
he was commanding him to drink from it ; for
although they could not hear the order, they
could plainly hear the answer of the boy.

" No ; I ain't going to do it, dad ! You were
drunk last time, and you told me after that if
ever you asked me again, 1 was to refuse. So
I guess I'll refuse now, for you're mighty drunk
to-night ! "

The boy had spoken truly when he had said
that the smuggler was drunk. He was so far
drunk that he had no respect for either
childhood or fairness.

" Drunk, am I ? " he cried, furious with anger
in an instant. " Well, drunk or sober you'll do
as I tell you ! Drink this I " And he thrust
the tin into the child's hands.

At this moment Calvert felt a tight grip on
his arm, and heard Dick's voice speaking
hoarsely at his side.

" Say, Fred, I can't stand this I It will kill
the poor kiddie if he swallows that stuff I See I '*

All the Indians were now crowding round to
view the spectacle, and the old man's pride was
evidently suffering that he should be defied by
a child in the face of all these onlookers.

" Drink ! " he fairly shrieked in mad fury.
"Drink, or I'll pour twice the amount .own
your throat with my own hands ! "

The Whisky Smuggler

But the little chap only straightened his back
and looked fully into the man's face.

" I guess you'll have to choke me first I " he
replied sturdily. "I promised you last time
that nothing would make me do it again, and I'd
a sight sooner choke than break my word."
And with this retort, the boy flung the tin and
its contents from him right into the middle of
the fire.

An exclamation of fury broke from the old
man's mouth. He seized a heavy stick that lay
at his hand and jumped for the boy with his
right arm raised to strike.

With a common impulse, our three comrades
(heedless of the consequences to themselves)
sprang up with the intention of immediately
attempting a rescue. But just as they were
about to make the rush, a cry of agony broke from
the smuggler's throat ; for the Indian chief was
first on the spot, and a powerful grip from the
hunter's hand had snapped upon the uplifted
wrist from behind. It was evidently a grip
Uke that of an iron vice, for instantly the club
fell from nerveless fingers, while the smuggler
sank upon his knees and writhed in torture.

The chiefs face was set in hard lines. The
evil fumes of liquor seemed to have suddenly
cleared from his brain and left him calm and
steady — and fierce.

"Men fight with men, not with women and

4 51

Comrades Three !

children!" he thundered, still retaining his
terrible grip, so that the old smuggler twisted his
body in agony. "The white man coward if he
strike boy ! " Then he turned his head to
address his now silent people.

" Braves 1 Take the papoose to the shelter of
the chiefs teepee I "

Three or four young men immediately came
forward in obedience to their chiefs command
and carried the child from the scene. And again
the Indian addressed the old man — this time in
tones of dignified anger.

" White man ! Take yoiir furs and your fire-
water, and leave the red man in peace I The
guest of Black Cloud, you are free from danger.
But come not near to us again, or my braves
will stone you as a dog from the doors of their
tents I "

It is impossible to describe the utter contempt
that the chief put into the words with which he
addressed the smuggler, or to fitly render in
words the absolute disgust with which, as he
spoke, he threw the man's wrist out of his grip.

" Take your trade — and go ! " was his final
order.

Then he drew his robes closely round him and
waved his arm with a sign for his braves to
retire.

Obediently, and without even a murmur, the
men glided away from the scene, oue by one,

■.'t>.i

ig his
ted his
dif he
jad to

jlter of

came
mmand
d again
time in

•ur fire-
I The

danger,
braves

of their

►ntempt
hich he
Qder in
, as he
s grip,
is final

lim and

aves to

lur, the
by one,

The Whisky Smuggler

until only the chief was left alone with the
trader. The former gave one more glance of
bitter contempt, after which he strode off
proudly in the direction of his own tent.

" The boy ! What of him ? " cried the old man
then, as he rose from his knees where he had
been cast. The pleader appeared to be almost
sober by now, and one might have almost
imagined that there was anxiety touched with
love in the earnestness of the question.

But the Indian did not deign even to look at
the speaker, though he paused for a moment and
gave his answer.

" The papoose is safer with the braves of
Black Cloud than in the teepee of Chief Fire-
water ! Until two suns he will rest with them ;
then he will be returned to the keeping of his
father."

CHAPTER V.

CALVERT S RANCH.

npHE three boys watched in silence from their
* hiding-place, while Rtynolds picked him-
self up, and gathering his ill-gotten belongings,
shambled off into the depths of the bush.

Then Calvert made a move in the direction of
the tied horses.

"What a horrible old beast ihat fellow
looked ! " was Dick's first remark.

" Cowed like a dog, with its tail between its
legs," added the graphic Stewart. " But do you
think the kid is safe with the Indians ? "

" Perfectly," was the answer. " Indians never
break their word in friendship or war. And
Black Cloud is one of the best."

"He looks it," the younger lad responded
strongly. "He is a brick. And the way he
twisted up that old rotter was a perfetit treat to
be seen. I suppose you will report the matter
to the police ? "

"I am not quite sure about that," replied
Calvert. "You see, if we plant the man in
prison, who is to look after the youngster?

Calvert's Ranch

om their
ked him-
jlongings,
h.

rection of

3tween its
ut do you

ans never
ar. And

•esponded
J way he
b treat to
le matter

' replied

man in

ungster ?

Old Reynolds is a mystery to all who know him.
People who have talked much with him say that
he has quite the ways of a gentleman, and from
what I can gather, he has been exceptionally
well educated."

At this information Dick gave a depreciating
grunt.

"There was not much of the gentleman or
man of education about him to-night."

"No. That is the strange part of it all,"
Calvert responded. " But you will meet many
v/recks of human life in the West — fellows who
have been great guns at home, but here — well,
' wrecks ' is the only word to describe them.
And I aln told that, when sober, Reynolds does
many a good deed in his owa way. Many
a poor squatter owes his first real lift to Re3niolds ;
and it is told of him that he once nursed an
entire fp,mily of half-breeds through smallpox —
took it himself afterwards pnd nearly died,
without any person to nurse himf No; I am
sure that he is not altogether as bad as he looked
to-night. It is the drink that does for him."

" But surely nothing can excuse him selling
drink to the Indians ? " urged Stewart. " That
seems almost to overbalance any good that he
may have done."

" No doubt. But at the same time, we cannot
judge every man from our standard of right and
wrong. There are many men who do not regard

Comrades Three !

i> I t^

the Indians as human beings like themselves.
They like the spirit of adventure, and so take
to smuggling for a profession. The enormous
profits that the trade brings in shuts, or rather
blinds, their eyes to any evil that may accompany.
They \/ould hesitate before ruining you or me
in such a way; but an Indian — he seems fair
game in their eyes. It never occurs to them to
think of the matter in any other light than that
of money and adventure."

** Our own Cornish forefathers were wreckers
and thought it fine sport ! " laughed Stewart.

" Exactly," returned Calvert. " And many
a rancher is just in ths same blind age that our
grandfathers were in. Like them, some day the
mistake will be seen."

" And for the sake of the kid, at least, someone
ought to do his best with Reynolds."

"That is exactly — my — idea," the elder
speaker added with unmistakable significance.
" And for this reason, the police would be less
successful than "

" Us," again completed Dick.

By this time our cowboy comrades had pushed
their way through the scrub and reached the
place where they had left their horses, and
a brisk run of half an hour brought them to
their destination.

On approaching the house, the front door was
seen to open, and a large figure filled up the

Calvert's Ranch

opening, showing up black against the light
from within.

"That's Jock Lauder, my faithful henchman
and tutor in ranch matters," explained Calvert,
and at the same moment a strong voice called
out in a marked Scottish accent —

" Wha's yon ? Friend or foe ? "

" Friend ! " laughed the owner of the ranch,
as he jumped lightly from his horse. " Where's
Pierre ? "

" Here, boss I " replied a voice from within,
and immediately another figure appeared in the
doorway.

From the darkness it was difficult to discern
more than mere outlines, but it was impossible
not to be struck with the great contrast that the
two figures presented. The one (Lauder) was
massive in build, and conveyed a strong
impression of great strength ; the other (Pierre)
was small, almost dwarfed, with limbs mis-
shapen and angular. Beyond the additional
facts that the former was the owner of a heavy
beard, while the latter was clean-shaven, it was
not possible at that distance to gather more ;
but when Pierre advanced to take charge of
Did 's horse, a pair of dark eyes flashed upon the
boys with a most unpleasant effect.

" Put up Mr. Edyvean's broncho, Pierre, and
Jock can take charge of Bess," Calvert ordered.
Then turning to his guests, he added: "And

Comrades Three !

now, you fellows, come with me, and make your-
selves at home."

The hired hands departed towards the stables,
and the young rancher led the way indoors.

The first room entered was a large apartment
that apparently served the double purpose of
dining-room and drawing-room. It was plainly,
though comfortably furnished with a large deal
table, several wooden chairs, and four latter of
the ** camp " variety. An interesting array of
guns and revolvers hung on one end of the
room, together with a lasso, bridles, stock-whip,
and driving-whip. But these, interesting and
useful as they were, formed but a kind of guard
of honour to a trophy in the centre. That was
a well-cared-for presentation bat, with the Dun-
mere arms on the plate — a valued commemora-
tion of a certain " 199 — not out I "

On the other walls were photographs of school
groups and other friends. Two or three shelves
of books were evident, as well as a clock that
was suspended between golden goal posts.
Indeed, the whole apartment was just such
a one as might be expected on a ranch, the
owner of which was not stinted for money.
There was comfort without useless luxury. The
result had such a pleasant *' Fifth Form study
look about it," as Stewart said, that the visitors
at once felt quite at home.

"There is a kitchen and some sleeping rooms

■>,^

ike your-

|e stables,
lors.

[partment
rpose of
Is plainly,
|arge deal
latter of
array of
id of the
lock-whip,
iting and
of guard
That was
the Dun-
ttmemora-

of school
Je shelves
lock that
il posts,
ust such
-nch, the
money,
py. The
■m study
2 visitors

g rooms

Calvert's Ranch

at the back," the young host further explained.
" These we will explore later on. Of course we
all grub in here — that is to say, with the excep-
tion of Pierre. He prefers his own peculiar food
in his own shanty near the stables. He prefers
horses to men, he says, and only favours me
with his company when specially requested.
But Lauder is quite a different sort. He is as
sociable as they make them, and jolly good com-
pany too. His other great quality is his ability
as a good cook. At that he excels."

"Do you remember our toffee-making over
the gas in your study, speaking of cooking?"
recalled Dick.

"Most of it was done on your nose on one
occasion. That gave away the game to the
Head, and earned a long lecture to me about
the dignity of prefects," laughed Calvert.

Further reminiscences were cut short by the
entrance of Lauder from the kitchen door. He
was bearing dishes and cutlery with which to
"lay the table," which was scrubbed to such
snow-white cleanliness that the absence of a
cloth was a pleasant luxury.

As this was the first appearance of the Scot
except when in darkness, the Edyveans naturally
turned to scrutinise the man, at which it was
hardly surprising that Stewart uttered a sudden
" Lummie ! " for Jock's physiognomy was
certainly enough to startle a stranger. Giant

Comrades Three !

M ■ ^

' 1

though he looked in the darkness, it was nothing
compared with his appearance when light revealed
all his proportions. There is only one word to
describe his figure and that is " massive." Add
to this the fact that he possessed a cataract of
red hair in the form of a beard ; also a red face
and red hair above it. Indeed, at first glance
it was not quite plain to see where the hair
ended and the face began. Fierce ? Certainly —
at a distance. At close quarters that ferocity
was rather belied by a pair of the kindest blue
eyes that ever blinked.

Lauder quite confirmed the good name that
had been given him as a cook of no mean order.
The feast that he had prepared was oiie that
was fit for princes — steak, sweet and juicy,
potatoes fried, and the succulent heads of Indian
corn boiled in milk. Then came " pies " (open
tarts) of the rich wild Saskatoon berry, and
a dish of dried apples that had been stewed and
flavoured so that the mummy period was
obliterated to sight and taste. Finally, "Johnnie-
cake," as light as air, served with maple syrup,
completed the feast ; and Stewart sighed a deep
sigh of contentment. The cooking at the
Edyvean establi^ment was still in the experi-
mental state, and even the best of us know
what it is to appreciate a good " tuck-in " after
a period of experiments — at least, the writer of
this narrative does.

?*•,<*!

f;5SW

Calvert's Ranch

After supper, the company dropped into easy-
chairs in comfortable attitudes for general talk.
Pierre sauntered in with some information about
the stock, and was invited to remain for a pipe
as soon as he had given Lauder a hand in
clearing away the remains of the feast.

" You are an extravagant chap, Fred, if that
is a specimen of your daily feed," remarked Dick
chaffingly. " Talk of roughing it in the West !
Why, you live at the height of civilisation ! "

" Bosh ! " was the polite rejoinder. " It is as
easy to live comfortably and cheaply as to do the
reverse. In my opinion that is one of the chief
reasons why we hear of so many failures among
our countrymen who come out here."

"Because they don't eat enough?" laughed
Dick.

" No ; because they don't try to be comfort-
able. Fellows come out from comfortable homes
in the Old Country filled with the romantic
notion of 'roughing it.' They have read
all about that sort of life in Ballantyne and
Cooper. It sounds fine in books, and they think
that no other life can be right or enjoyable.
Well, out they come, and they set up house in a
miserable little shanty, bare ^as a prison cell.
At home they could not abide the want of books,
pictures on the walls, mats, at least upon the
floor, and a few odds and ends around them
that makes a home homelike. But once in the

*!' ' ri-

Comrades Three!

West, they think it would be out of keeping
with the life to .attempt any of the English
notiojis. Change of country never means
change of habits. It is impossible for any
fellow to be happy minus all the surroundings
to which he has been accustomed. Of course, as
long as everything is new, he does not miss
these things. But once the novelty has worn
off, and he finds that there is precious little
romance and much hard work, then it is that he
begins to miss all that he has tried to do
without. And without trying to supply the
want, he at once starts to abuse the country
instead of abusing his own stupidity. In the
end he chucks up the whole concern, and returns
home a failure, and writes to the papers in
condemnation of ' that over-rated Canada.' "

" It's a real fine place — the finest in the
world ! " interpolated Jock, v/ho had by this
time finished his kitchen duties and settled
down to hi?; pipe. " I'm no' saying but what
there's a braw bit o land no' that iar frae
Stirling that corass weel-nigh as fine ; but even
my am birth-land cuana offer all that Canada
does. I've been here these five-and-twenty
years syne, sae I ken what I'm talking aboot I "

' ' Tv/enty-five years ! " repeated Stewart. * ' And
have j'-ou never been horxie in ail that time ? "

'* Never," replied the Scot. Then he added,
as if with thoughtful confidence : " But I'm

62 •

CaJivert's Ranch

thinking that maybe next year (all being well)
I'll tak' a run ower just to see what the puir
bits o' bodies are doing shut up in that wee Isle
wi'oot a pickle o' fresh air."

To this announcement Calvert gave a hearty

laugh.

" The same old story ! Why, it is the
standing joke of all the ranchers — this of Jock's
visit to Scotland! Every year he says the
same thing ; but when it comes to the point he
has a thousand excuses. It's always * next year/
isn't it, Jock ? "

Lauder turned a look of fatherly reproof upon
the rash speaker.

" I'd like to ken where this ranch* would ha'
been if I went jaunting ower the Atlantic.
Duty first, pleasure afterwards."

'• And right truly you have stuck to that
duty ! " returned Calvert heartily. " But, by
the way, to-morrow morning I want you to go
over to Mr. Edyvean's ranch and keep an eye
on the place for a day or two. He and his
brother are going to visit me."

" Right you are, boss," answered the Scot.
" And from what I hear I'm thinking that we'll
need to keep a' oor eyes weel skinned. There's
a cijal o' stir amang the Indians wi' the drink
these days, Reynolds having been at his auld
games again. And there's no telling what
folk'U do when the drink's on them."

'i i I

¥*;'' "

i t

fv i;

! /I

Comrades Three!

" We heard something of that ourselves,'*
said Fred guardedly. " But what do you fear
to us from this ? "

"Just this : that when a Redskin tastes the drink,
he'll no' mind selling the shirt frae his back for
whisky. And when his ain shirt has been traded,
he'll no' think muckle aboot stealing ither folk's.'*

The cowboy had been refilling his pipe, and he
threw his plug of tobacco to Pierre, who was
sitting at the farther end of the room, saying as
he did so—

"There's Pierre ower yonder. If you doubt
my words, ask him. He kens mair aboot Indians
than ony o' us."

The half-breed, thus drawn attention to,
grinned an ugly grin as he caught the plug and
commenced to pare it with his sheath-knife.

"Indians terrible bad," he said. "Indians
drink, steal, kill I Ugh ! I spit upon them ! '*

So bitterly did the half-breed utter these
words, and with such evident hatred of the red
race, that the listeners felt a sort of shudder as
he spoke. There is always something repulsive
about a man who T/ill miscall his own blood, and
the blood of th'3 led man was plainly thicker in
Pierre's veins than that of the white.

This thought was instantly voiced by Stewart,
who did not try to conceal his contempt.

" Why, that is abusing yourself, for surely
you are quite two-thirds an Indian ? "

Calvert's Ranch

At this the half-breed turned swiftly upon
the speaker with a flash of savage anger.

" Pierre no' Indian I Pierre white — white !
Pierre hate the red man — he spit upon them !
They kill my father ; they try kill me."

" You led the police to the hiding-place of one
of their braves," commented Calvert with stern
significance.

"He killed a white man!" retorted Pierre
angrily.

** Just so," rejoined the young rancher quietly.
" But rightly or wrongly they had always
regarded you as one of themselves, and rightly
or wrongly they then regarded you as a traitor."

The half-breed hung his head.

"The work — dangerous," he said, to which
Jock could not help adding —

" And weel paid in guid siller I"

It was rather an uneven contest — two against
one ; but Calvert felt that the strong truth was
needed to try to crush out the bitterness that
made Pierre nothing better than a revengeful
animal, even though he was, as we have been
previously told, an excellent cowboy. But he
felt that the allusion to the money that Pierre
had received from the police for tracking the
Indian smuggler was rather too much the need-
less opening of an old sore. No one was
surprised, then, when the half-breed turned to
the Scot with an ugly snarl.

Comrades Three !

** Ugh ! You not know the face of torture !
You not know the fire lit at your feet, with body
tied to tree, and eyes watch, watch, watch
tongues of flame as they creep like snakes upon
you. See ! "

Quick as ;*, flash, the speaker pulled up the leg
of one of his loose overall trousers, and exposed
a leg that was twisted and much withered like
the gnarled trunk of a blighted tree.

It was a revolting sight, and the onlookers all
gave gasps of revulsion.

'*Ah!" the half-breed resumed. "You see!

Pierre's leg once straight, strong ! Now "

He left the sentence unfinished, and as such it
was more powerful than words.

" Was that the Indians ? " asked Stewart, not
unsympathetically.

" Indians, and white man — him — Reynolds !
Snake ! Pierre hate him ! Pierre spit on him I "

All the venom of the savage blood was con-
veyed in the speaker's words. He hissed out his
malevolence from between his teeth ^s though
he were a wild beast instead of a man.

" I pity your enemies when they fall into your
hands ! " said Calvert, seeking to close the matter
and divert the conversation into more cheerful
channels.

" And I pray each day for that time to come ! "
returned the half-breed under his breath. Then
he rose &om his seat and shuffled from the room.

CHAPTER VI.

WHY PIERRE HATED.

'T'HE departure of the half-breed was watched

in silence. Then Dick turned to Calvert

with a sigh of relief and a shrug of his shoulders.

" I wonder that you can dare to have such a
revengeful demon about you," he said. ** It
makes one's blood run cold to look at him, far
less to listen to his threats against those whom
he considers to be his enemies."

But Fred did not seem to have been affected
in the same manner as his guest.

" Oh, Pierre is not quite as bad as he paints
himself. And he is a first-rate cowboy. Isn't
he, Jock ? "

The Scot nodded his head in agreement.

** There's no' his equal in the land ! He kens
thb beasties' language and speaks to them just as
I am speaking to you, sirs."

" I would like to see him at work," Stewart
remarked, and Calvert immediately replied :
" So you shall. It is my intention to break-in
a young horse to-morrow, so you'U have a chance
of seeing the art of the dandiest cowboy in the
6 67

Comrades Three !

West. Oh, Pierre has his good qualities, I can
assure you ! To tell you the truth I am more
than convinced that the poor beggar is a little
touched, and doesn't know what he is saying
half the time when he speaks as he did to-night.
One is bound to feel a little sorry for him,
knowing what he has gone through, for he came
near to being burned to death by the Indians."

"That was no' the doing o' the Indians sae
much as that o' auld Reynolds," remarked
lauder.

^'True," returned Fred. "But still the red-
skins were doing the business. To them he was
a paid spy. And we've got this to remember,
that we have only Pierre's word that Reynolds
had any hand in it at all."

" It was Reynolds the police were after firstly,
though some way the auld viper was canny
enough to wriggle oot o' trouble. Then they
tried to nab his messenger, Piapot, and one o'
them got shot for his pains. Syne they had to
get native help to track the brave that shot the
policeman "

" Yes, yes, yes ! " interrupted Calvert laughing.
"Your train of reasoning is all very good, and
I have no doubt that Reynolds was morally
responsible for the whole businccs. What I
argue is, that there is no proof that Reynolds
had any hand in the attempt to burn Pierre."

" And meantime," interposed Dick banteringly,

-> i-.i

I can

more
little
saying
night,
him,
came
ans."
ns sae
larked

e red-
he was
ember,
synolds

firstly,
canny
n they
one o'
had to
lot the

ighing.

d, and

lorally

^hat I

ynolds

re."

ringly,

Why Pierre Hated

"we are quite in the dark as to what all the
argument is about. It may have some very
interesting points about it, but suppose you give
us the benefit of the whole story."

" Gladly," responded Calvert. " Still I would
have liked to have convinced Jock on this one
point. I have tried to do so a hundred times
before, but he is as stubborn over it as a mule.
Indeed, I half begin to think that he is in league
with Pierre, because ever since he saved the poor
beggar's life "

At this point, Lauder was suddenly taken
with a violent fit of coughing, and began to
move his chair with much noise — all with the
evident intention of interrupting the conversa-
tion at that personal point.

Calvert turned a merry look towards his
henchman. He had seen these tactics before,
and liked to tease the modest Scot in this harm-
less way.

But Stewart, scenting a good yarn, was quick
to take up Calvert's lead.

"What!" he exclaimed. **Do you mean to
say that you saved Pierre from the torture ? "

" Weel, you wudna' see even a varmint o' a
doggie murdered before your eyes and no put
oot a hand to save him ! " answered the big man
with the big heart, as he turned away his head
with shame that he should be praised for a
good deed.

.> !l

Comrades Three !

''Some people would," replied Stewart. "I
have seen t ven Englishmen torture animals, and
laugh over it."

Lauder nodded his head wisely.

" Englishmen ! Aye, maybe. But in my
country, bonnie Scotland, the smell o' the heather
and the sight o' the blue hare-bell put a tender-
ness for nature into men's hearts that the
foreigner frae England kens naething aboot."

This retort caused a general roar of laughter.

" That's one against you, old man I " exclaimed
Dick to his brother.

But Stewart was quite equal to a slight
contest of wits.

"Let him prove the Scots' tender heart by
spinning his yarn ! " he said. " Until I hear the
story, I am unconvinced."

" That is a fair enough challenge," Dick agreed,
smiling as he turned to Jock.

But Jock was in no haste to pick up the
gauntlet on such a topic.

"It ill becomes pig to mak' a sang aboot
mysel'. Besides, I hae preparations to mak' for
the morning."

"The night is early yet," said Calvert from
the depths of his hammock chair.

"There's no getting out of it!" chirruped
Stewart.

Poor Lauder was outnumbered with arguments
against him. He had to yield.

Is, and

slight

)art by
tear the

agreed,

up the

aboot
lak' for

t from

rruped

iments

Why Pierre Hated

" Weel, weel," he sighed, as he began to scraps
out the bowl of his ever-present pipe. " You're
a masterful laddie, and must hae your ain way."

"Certainly!" Stewart interjected with a
humorous air of superiority at which all laughed,
including Lauder, who now gave up all further
objections, and started on the desired way.

" It's no' a lang tale. That is a blessing. A
story that tak's lang in the telling is a wearisome
yam at the best o' times. As to this — it's
nae thing much oot o' the ordinary."

"We'll settle that matter afterwards," said
Stewart : and so Jock began his story.

" Nae doot you ken that auld Reynolds is a
man that leads an evil life — drinking teirible,
and selling speerits tae the Indians. That is
against the law, and is punishable by years in
gaol. And rightly so, for the Indians are good
enough in the ordinary way, but once let them
taste the smallest drap o' whisky, and that
drap'l) mak' the best o' them fair mad. And an
Indian drunk is a fearsome creature.

"Weel, the police had been watching this
man's goings-on for some time. They ken. his
trade, but he was ower sly for them to nab.
Then they set a Sergeant Woodrow and a
constable to watch. But auld Reynolds foand
it oot, and, instead o' taking the whisky to the
Indians himsel', he got one o' Black Cloud's
braves to do the dirty work for him. Nae doot

Comrades Three !

he thought that an Indian would be a match for
ony policeman. But there he was just wrang,
for the constable sighted the redskin, and gave
chase ; but when he came up to the man the
savage turned upon him and shot him dead.

" As soon as that was done, the Blackfeet
camp moved to a little known part o' the bush,
and they hid the murderer in a cave that was
only kent by themselves, or by them as was
born in the woods. Pier-e was ane o' the last-
named. A grand reward was promised by the
police for the man that would lead an officer to the
brave s den. That was mair than Pierre could
stand. His mither had been married to a French
trapper in these parts. He kent every inch o*
the ground atween this and the Rocky
Mountains — secret spots and all. He coveted
the gold, so he led the police to the cave, and
the brave was taken. In my mind, Reynolds
should hae baen taken as weel ; but he (cunning
auld fox that he is ! ) kept himsel' oot o' the
reach o' the law, and the Indians wouldna' tell
on him. Thv^y are leal folk, the Indians are, and —
weel, that's a' my story."

The speaker stopped suddenly, just like a
cantering horse when it is unexpectedly pulled
up by the curb. He shut his square mouth
tightly, and jammed his pipe between his teeth
to indicate that riot another word should pass
his lips.

:cli for

Tang,

gave

m the

id.

tckfeet
bush,

t Was
|as was

e last-
by the

to the

couJd
French
'inch o*
Rocky
oveted
''e, and
ynolds
inning
o' the
a' tell
and —

ike a
)ulled
nouth
teeth
pass

Why Pierre Hated

The boys had been following with keen
interest.

" Well ? " exclaimed Dick at the pause.

"What happened to Pierre?" questioned
Stewart,

But a great cloud of smoke was the only
answer that Lauder would vouchsafe.

" I suppose I shall have to finish the yarn for
him ! " said Calvert with a smile at the silent
Jock. " It's a great fag telling about other
people's glories ; but Jock is too modest to be
tapped. I know that by experience. Well, all
this happened before I came West, and so I can
only give you the rest of the story as I have
gathered it from Pierre. It seems that, after the
capture of the braves, the whole tribe of Black-
foet vowed vengeance on Pierre if ever they
succeeded in catching him. Their rough idea of
right was ' an eye for an eye ' no matter whether
the cause was a just one to punish or not.
Well, in time they did capture him, and he was
dragged before their chief At first they were
for shooting him on the spot, but it so happened
that Reynolds then appeared on the scene, and
he with a jeer suggested that a traitor deserved
to be burned. From what followed, I am
convinced that Reynolds never meant his words
to be taken in earnest (though Pierre will tell
you differently) ; but at any rate the suggestion
was enough to rouse these savage minds.

Comrades Three !

Without waiting for an older from their chief, a
score of braves instantly fell upon the half-breed
and dragged him screaming and struggling to a
tree. There they bound him to the trunk with
such reckless ferocity that he only came out of
the ordeal with limbs bent and misshapen as you
have seen."

" Poor beggar ! " uttered Stewart with a
shudder.

"Poor, indeed," returned Calvert. "But
that was not the worst. Sticks were heaped
about him, and these were saturated with oil. I
have lately proved to my satisfaction that at this
point, Reynolds really did try to interfere ; but
the Indians were too mad by this time to allow
interference from such as he. They crowded
round so that the old man was unable to
approach, and even forcibly held him back ; and
he, horror-struck at what had taken place, and
unable to bear seeing more, turned and fled from
the spot. This has been told me by Black
Cloud himself, though Pierre will not listen to
it."

"And what happened after they had bound
him s " questioned Dick. He was too interested
in the story to have any thoughts for side issues
at the moment, no matter how important they
might be. " Did they light the fire ? "

" Ah," replied Fred as he gave a kind look at
Lauder who was still sitting stolidly smoking as

Why Pierre Hated

though tie whole matter had very little interest
for him. " That is where good old Jock comes
into the tale. Isn't it Jock ? "

** Do you no' think that there'll be a pickle o*
rain the morn ? I heard the wind whistle
the noo just like the warning o' rain to come,"
Lauder remarked with a direct refusal to show
any interest in the affair.

But Calvert only laughed at him.

" It may rain in torrents for a week or a year,
if it likes, but I am going to finish my story once
I have begun 1 "

" I hope it winna mak* the ground ower saft
for the ploughing," remarked Jock ; and so
Calvert resumed.

**It was just at this critical moment that a
certain, good-natured giant of a Scot was ex-
ploring that portion of the bush for building-logs.
Hearing the sound of voices in anger, and cries
of terror, his tender and brave heart was stirred.
Picking up a chunk of ash-wood, he plunged
through the bush in the direction from whence
these sounds had proceeded, and he arrived just
in time to see the flames beginning to lick the
poor half-breed's legs, while he writhed and
screamed in terror and pain.

"The Scot gave a wild war-cry and sprang
forward. Laying his club around him like
his ancestral claymore, he charged the
mob. Quite taken aback, the Indians must have

1 :

!i!|

C*^ lii^des Three !

thought thas perl aps they were surrounded by
police, for tho^o thai: did not f?ll under the blows
fled like leaves before an autumn blast. Then
the rescuer cut the thongs that bound the victim ;
but poor Pierre fell unconscious into the Scot's
arms. So our hero took him upon his back and
carried him to his own shanty, but not without
suffering some severe burns himself while he had
scattered the fire to liberate the prisoner."

*' Ripping ! ripping I " Stewart exclaimed when
Calvert's pause indicated that the end of the
story had been reached. ** I won't admit that
the Scots have tenderer or braver hearts than
the English, but this I'll say, they run them
pretty close ! "

** I was a mighty plucky act," commented Dick.
He spoke quietly, but the words had none the
less of the true ring of merited praise.

Yet Lauder's mind seemed to be still absorbed
by other affairs.

" I feel certain that we'll hae rain the morn ! "
was his remark, adding : " I'm off to my bed noo,
for I must be up betimes to reach Mr. Edyvean's
ranch by daylight."

Jock rose to depart, and all began to make a
move to retire.

" By the way," remarked Fred, ''it is as well
to remember, Jock, that Reynolds has been
up to his old games again. That may mean
trouble for Pierre if he were to get into the hands

■^:

Why Pierre Hated

of the Indians while they have the drink upon
them. So we must keep an eye on the beggar."

Lauder stopped and bent his head thoughtfully.

" Is that so, boss ? "

"It is. We saw certain signs to-night ^ <: w?
came along that are a warning."

" I'm thinking that we'll need to tak h fi- m
hand wi' yon mon and clear him oot o' tb land,"
commented Jock.

"He's done for himself with the chief, I
should imagine," said Dick.

At this announcement, the Scot turned a look
of renewed interest to the boys.

" Done for himsel' ? "

** Yes. He and Black Cloud had a thorough
row, and the latter ordered the old man out of
his camp for all time."

Lauder's eyes now fairly danced with delight.

" A quarrel ? Wi' Black Cloud ? Man ! that's
the finest news we've had this mony a day !
When thieve^, fall oot, ther honest folks begin to
thrive, you ken ! It'll be easy work to drive
away the auld reprobate after this I "

The speaker's mind was full of enthusiasm, and
his whole face was lit with joy at the thoughts
which he expressed.

But Calvert did not respond as readily as
Lauder had hoped. He took the matter more
seriously.

"You are a good fellow, Jock," he said.

■is

Comrades Three !

"None has a kinder heart. But I wish you
would pu^j that heart straighter in some ways."

Lauder's face fell. He saw that there was
something amiss, though he was at a loss to
understand how.

** I dinna ken what it is you mean, boss," was
his less hearty reply, and Calvert did not delay
his explanation.

*' Simply this : you let your feelings run away
with you. It isn't my way, when a fellow is
down, to kick him. My way is to give him a lift
up again."

Still Lauder seemed to find diflficulty in
following his young master's drift of reasoning.

"Far be it from me to do other than that
same, boss," he said. "But as for this
Reynolds "

" He is just the case in point," hastily inter-
rupted Calvert. "He's down now; with the
Indians against him : his trade's gone ; this is
our chance to give the lift up I No chap is so
bad but that some good may not be found in
him. Reynolds has been a gentleman. Who
knows but that we might not call back the
gentleman again ? "

" Bravo I bravo ! ' exclaimed Dick. " Just the
very idea that has been in my head all along ! If
every person gives him the cold shoulder, what
better can we expect than — well, what he is ? —
Hist I "

Why Pierre Hated

Dick had suddenly stopped speaking, and
turned in a listening attitude to the outer door.

" What is it ? " asked Stewart.

" I thought I heard a footstep, but Hullo ! "

Tho last word came out with a jerk, for just at
that instant the door itself was firmly opened.
All present started, and well they might, for
there, fully dressed in the robes of a Blackfeet
chief — the proudest of all chieftians — stood the
grand figure of Black Cloud, holding Reynolds's
boy by the hand.

CHAPTER VII.

THE REVOLT OP BLACK CLOUD.

' V

^HE young ranchers were too taken aback to
* speak, for the unexpected appearance
robbed their words. But the Indian was calm
and dignified.

" Huh I " he uttered from the depth of his
chest in the red man's form of greeting. " Black
Cloud would speak with his wLi:e brothers ! "

" You are welcome, chief," replied Calvert,
recovering from his surprise.

He motioned the Indian to enter, and Black
Cloud, with natural good breeding, stepped
inside and shook hands with each person in turn
before he would consent to occupy a chair.
There is still much of the old royal di^^nity
clinging to the Indian of the West, in spite of
the many gross habits and tastes that he has
unfortunately learned from those of the East,
who ought to have taught him better.

The boy still kept by his protector's side, as
youngsters will when with a friend among
strangers. But his eyes wandered round the
room with a curiosity that nothing escaped.

The Revolt of Black Cloud

There was no Bh3aieBS about him, and the
onlookers all conceived the same impression that
he was unnaturally old for his years.

Tobacco was supplied to the chief. Then,
with the brevity and directness of speech
peculiar to his race, Black Cloud launched upon
the business that had brought him upon such
an unusual night journey. Indians do not
travel during the night unless on matters of
urgency.

*' Brother," the chief began, addressing
Calvert, " you honoured the red man's camp
this night with your presence."

A general gasp and start of astonishment
greeted this unexpected announcement. The
boys looked at each other, and Lauder looked at
the boys, for the Scot could not understand
what business could have taken his young
master to a Blackfeet camp. But no one
spoke, and the chief continued.

" Black Cloud faced his white brothers when
the fire-water was guiding his hunting-knife.
But the chief could not speak. His eyes were
meant to be blind to the presence of his frienda.
But my braves would have been glad if om
brothers had shed their light within the doors of
their teepees."

The speaker paused as if he expected, by
custom, some acknowledgment of his hospitable
suggestion, so Dick filled in the blank.

ml m

^:Vi I if

f ';•:

t^m

i> »( ■« ,

Comrades Three !

" We thought it best to remain unseen — to-
night."

Dick had not meant to convey any special
meaning to his words, but they slipped out
before he knew, and Black Cloud turned to him
gravely, evidently quite understanding why the
boys did not wish to show themselves on such
an occasion.

"Black Cloud has respect for the wishes of
his white brothers. He — understands. But"
(here he turned to Calvert) ** the hand that was
medicine to Black Cloud's papoose, and brought
the little brave back from death to life — that
hand is ever welcome as sunlight in the chiefs
tent. Black Cloud never forgets a kindness.
Black Cloud's blood would gladly flow upon the
prairie for his white brother's sake ! "

Again the Indian paused in order that any
who wished might have an opportunity of
speaking. But no one seemed disposed to ofi'er
remarks just then, so the chief resumed.

*'In years that have passed, when tribes
warred with tribes, before the axe was buried
and the peace-pipe passed among chiefs, the
red man had many enemies that reaped our
braves from the camp fires. These enemies
were fierce ; but terrible though they were, my
brother, there were none whose arrows were
more cunningly poisoned to slay than the foe
that threatens us now. Chief Fire-water is

The Revolt of Black Cloud

m — to-
special
led out
to him
my the
m such

shes of
But"
lat was
wrought
e — that
chiefs
ndness.
3on the

iat any
lity of
to oflfer

tribes
buried
fs, the
d our
nemies
re, my
; were
he foe
iter is

now our enemy, and he of the white beard
is hia master ! '*

As Black Cloud's recitu.! continued, his passion
increased. With the last words he rose from
his seat and threw out his arms dramatically.

" Who can withstand them ? " he asked
passionately. " They make brave to war with
brave, brother to war with brother. Our young
men are falling around us like leaves in autumn.
What shall we do ? We cannot fight. Are we
to wait until all our manhood is lost ? "

What brave sorrow there was in the appeal
that rang out from the strong throat ! The
orator was no longer speaking directly to his
listeners. It sounded more as if, with his face
upturned, he was appealing to Heaven for the
help that he so sorely needed.

" What shall we do ? " he repeated. " To-
day the red man has been in the hands of the
white beard. He has been stripped of his
robes almost as bare as the birch is stripped of
her bark for canoes.

" What shall we do ?

"This day Black Cloud save papoose from
the evil spirit that was in his father. Shall
these things be ? "

Once more the chief stopped dramatically,
and Stewart exclaimed enthusiastically —

"It was one of the finest things I ever heard
of, Chief — your rescuing the boy."

# 86

I ]

Comrades Three !

But the Indian took the compliment very
quietly.

" The papoose is kind, and the chief is grate-
ful ; but it was only the right act of a man."

The answer was simply given, and the Indian
had no idea that poor Stewart's pride had
received a blow at being termed a " papoose."
Our young hero knew enough of the ordinary
native expressions by this time to understand
that " papoose " is the equivalent to the word
baby, or the school expression *' kid."

"That evil man, Reynolds, must be driven
frae the land ! " said Lauder, who had been
greatly moved by the Indian's story, so much so
that Calvert's recent remarks on this matter
were forgotten for the time.

"That would be well," responded Black
Cloud. " But who shall drive him ? "

" There are other ways of driving out an evil
spirit save by strength of arm," said Calvert.

Black Cloud nodded with approval, though it
is certain that he did not follow the meaning
that was in the speaker's mind.

" My brother speaks words of wisdom. But
what of the papoose ? Who will care for him ? "

" I dinna think the bairn will lack for a bite
o' food while those o' his ain blood live," remarked
Jock.

"It is good," the Indian said. Then he
resumed, after an interval of thought : " Brothers I

The Revolt of Black Cloud

the red man does not know of the great world
as the whiteman, and to-night he has come to
seek counsel. The papoose is brave; he is
strong of limb, and it does not seem well to the
red man that a brave spirit should be lost.
Gladly would Black Cloud open the door of his
tent to the papoose for all time, but it is not
good for the lamb to dwell with the bear — he
must be with his own people. He of the white
beard has an evil spirit. Would it not be well
for the papoose to live in — this good teepee —
better than to return to the other 1 "

It was a kind thought, but the impossible
dream of a kind heart. The Indian did not
know that children may not be taken from their
parents even when the latter are wicked or cruel,
and Calvert hastened to explain how the matter
stood, adding that he understood Reynolds was
really very kind to the boy w^hen drink had
not misled the mind,

" But could he not remain here for a day or
two?" suggested Dick. "We could take him
back to his father when we make our intended
visit on the return to our ranch."

The suggestion was made in a persuasive
whisper, but the keen ears of the Indian heard
and understood.

" No ! " he exclaimed hastily and with pride.
"Black Cloud passed his word to return the
papoose after two suns. A chief's word may

Comrades Three !

.■i,r;„-^ ' ?:

\l K,

never be broken. Sooner would he plunge this
knife into his heart than break a promise given,
even to an enemy."

To emphasise his words the chiefs hand
dropped to where it had been accustomed to
find the hilt of the long hunting-knife protrud-
ing from the sheath that was so gaily decked
with coloured beads and feathers. To his sur-
prise, however, he found that the knife was not
in its place. The sheath was empty ! And
immediately the savage straightened himself,
and throwing up his arms, cried out in lamenta-
tion —

•'Sorrow! Sorrow! Sorrow has come to
the tent of the red man, for the blade that our
chiefs have used as far back as time will carry —
it has gone, my brothers ! It has gone 1 Gone
is the summer ! Winter has come to wrap my
young men in the robes of death. Sorrow and
woe is at the door of the teepee. The chiefs
sun has set ; the talisman has gone ; and now
he Trust bend his head in sorrow to the earth ! "

So great was the grief born of the superstition
cf iiiri /ace thp'j the poor man was quite over-
whelmed at his loss ; and the onlookers were
iTJuch movec' as the proud chief (proud no
iongcr) jank to the floor and buried his head
ih. the ermine robe that hung from his shoulders.

" Chief Fire-water has stolen the strength of
my people I Woe has surely come upon us ! "

■■J

fnge this
Je given,

's hand
fomed to
protrud-
decked
his sur-
was not
|y ! And
himself,
lamenta-

come to
that our
11 carry —
e ! Gone
wrap my
Trow and
le chiefs
and now
earth ! "
)er3tition
ite over-
ers were
roud no
iis head
loulders.
Jngth of
on us!"

The Revolt of Black Cloud

he moaned, while his body seemed to shrink yet
lower.

Then it was that Jock showed his strength,
and his great voice rung out as if it had been
the voice of some prophet of old.

"Chief! Why weep you?" he exclaim.ed in
tones that were at once a reproach and a
comfort. " Why mourn ? Manito " (God) " is
still in His sky ! What need you fear while
He lives ? "

It was a wonderful moment. There was
instant silence in the room. One could almost
hear the beating of the hearts of those w\o
were watching the sorrow of the chief.

Then the ])roken mau slowly raised himn^lf
until he stood upright. Ho th/ew back \m
head with an acti//A/ ^/f strength and fi>
firmly —

" Black Cloud is grateful t/y M« white bi
He came to the tent of the white fmn for It^^
and that help has been given. H^ m a < i rior
again. Black Cloud is no coward. H* wiiJ
fight until he sees the arrow in the h*^^ rt of
his foe, and "

Here the chief stopped, and paused in the
action of listening.

" What is it, Chief? " asked Calvert.

"Did my brother not hear? There was a
footfall by the window."

" I heard nothing. Did you fellows ? "

'>»

Comrades Three !

Neither Dick nor Stewart had heard any sound
from outside, but the Indian held to his opinion.

" The ears of the red man never tell him
wrong. A foot passed by that window and stole
away into the darlrness again."

" I heard nothing," repeated Calvert. At the
same time he gave a look towards the others,
and read from their eyes the thought that was
in bis miua. All minds, except Black Cloud's,
instantly conjured up the figure of the spy
Pierre, though no motion was made to investigate
further, as it was not to be desired that the
Indian and the half-breed should meet.

"I think you must have been mistaken,"
Dick said, to which the Indian replied with
a courtly bow of great courtesy —

" If my brother says that there was no foot
or sound, then the night was empty."

But the redskin's ears had not deceived him.
The night had not been empty, Pierro, iu his
wanderings, had found the hunting knifo iJmt
had fallen from its sheath, while the owner ha^l
been passing through a thick part of the bush,
and he had arrived in time to listen to niuch of
Black Cloud's oratory. And how hi« h^mrt had
^^aped when he heard the Indian say that lj<; would

fight until he sees the arrow in the heart of his
foe." The savage mind had not understood the
metaphor of the language. All he understooi
was a threat against Reynolds, and nov/^ with

The Revolt of Black Cloud

the chiefs knife in his hand, and these words
in his ears, Pierre was happy, for he saw a way
of venting his fierce vengeance on his enemy
without fear of a crime being brought to his
door.

In secret his hand would be able to strike the
blow that his whole being longed to smite —
longed with all the intensity of the savage blood
that ran in his veins.

"Revenge at last!" was the over-Lia Bering
thought. What cared he who bore the blame if
only he were left immune from suspicion ?

CHAPTER Vni.

RANCH LIFE.

I TP betimes soon after sunrise, the friends
enjoyed the usual Western breakfast, of
which the chief supports are bacon and fried
potatoes, washed down with copious draughts of
tea. Then Lauder was immediately dispatched
to the Edyvean ranch.

" What would you like to do first ? " asked
Calvert, while he and his guests were loitering
over the final cup. " This is going to be holiday
for me, so I am at your service."

" It wouldn't be a bad idea to have a look
round your ranch so that we can pick your
brains," was Dick's wily suggestion, at which
Fred laughed heartily.

" My dear old fellow, don't flatter me ! If
you pick any brains, Jock is the one who will be
the loser. He is the manager here, though
I take the credit for it.'

"It is a fine plan that of yours to have
an old hand to direct things," Stewart re-
marked.

"A good example is worth copying," said

, , t

Ranch Life

Calvert significantly, to which Dick responded
in his usual philosophical way —

"Providing cash allows it. Personally,
I think it is rather lucky that cash does not, in
our case. I am a bit of a slacker by nature, and
I would soon be worse if I had anyone upon
whom to shift odd jobs."

Calvert was thoughtful for a few moments,
after which he plucked up enough courage to
make a suggestion that had been simmering in
his head during the night.

" Pve got a sort of idea," he began falteringly ;
'* I don't know what you'll think of it, but take
it for what it is worth — I have an idea that
we might combine our forces and start one
*Dunmere' ranch instead of two. I call mine
'Dunmore,' you know. I have a fair stock of
implements, et cetera, to go on with, but I am
not well supplied with energy — rather prefer to
laze-along, as Dick pretended to like. So you two
fellows would buck me up, and we might make
quite a good thing out of it. What do you say ? "

" It's a ripping idea — from our point of
view ! " replied Dick with a quiet smile.

" How ? What do you mean ? Why from
your point of view more than mine ? "

" Because the advantage would be all on our
side."

** A wise partnership ; that is all," responded
Calvert, to which Dick added —

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Comrades Three !

" Including the lifting of lame dogs over stiles,
eh ? No, no, old chap. You would like us to
be dense ; but it would not be fair to you. If
we shared-iu, it would be all * take ' for us and
no ' give,' for, of course, our feeble affair is not
so well stocked in any way as yours is."

"You are ra your first year; I am in my
fourth "

** And so you propose that we unite our first
year of failure with your three or four of succesr ? "

Calvert blushed guiltily, for in truth Dick had
pierced the mark unerringl}?. That had indeed
been Calvert's idea in the first instance. He
wanted to give a leg-up to his friends who had
started under such disadvantages, for it had
needed no great powers of perception to see the
failure of inexperience and lacking advice that
was so evident at the Edyveans' ranch.

"Well, well,'* he commented in disappointed
tones, as he rose from his chair and began to
remove the dishes from the table in the absence
of Lauder. " If you don't care for the idea,
there is no more to be said."

But Dick would not drop the matter so care-
lessly.

" Not care ! " he exclaimed. " Why, we should
love it ! Wouldn't we, Stewart ? "

" First rate ! " replied the younger boy, who
was secretly a little disappointed that the offer
had been rejected, not understanding his brother*s

Ranch Life

motives. " Think of us three running one ranch
in the name of the old school." 4

" Then why not " began Fred, when he was

gently interrupted by Dick.

" Because — I am sure you will not misunder-
stand me — because it is better for Stewart and
me to paddle our own canoe for the present.
We want to show the world what we can do in
spite of what people may — have — thought,
Stewart understands me, I think."

Stewart did understand then ; so did Calvert,
for he could see now what he had not seen
before : that Dick wanted everyone to see the
good name of Edy vean upheld by the sole efforts
of the brothers. So he honoured the spirit by
letting the matter rest for the time being.

With the assistance of the visitors, the remains
of the breakfast were soon cleared.

" Suppose we have a ride round the ranch in
the first place, ' Fred then proposed. " After
that we'll get Pierre to break in that horse
I spoke about yesterday. That will be some-
thing well worth seeing. It is an education in
itself to watch Pierre's art."

This suggestion was eagerly agreed to, at
which Calvert let out a loud " Hullo ! Pierre ! "

"Coming, boss!" was the reply from the
vicinity of the stables, and soon the half-breed
followed the sound.

" Say, Pierre," said Calvert, ** I want you to put

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Comrades Three !

saddles on Mr. Edyvean*s broncho and my Bess.
Also get Jack for my friend's brother."

" Want me too ? " inquired the cowboy.

" In about a couple of hours. We are going
to have a ride round for a time, and then if you
feel up to handling a lariat in proper style, you
can meet us at the Cottonwood Clearing,
bringing the home herd with you. Do you feel
inform?"

At once Pierre's eyes glistened.

Was there ever a time when the half-breed's
fingers did not tingle to feel the coil of the
lariat beneath them ? The very suggestion was,
to him, as inspiring as the dinner-bell after
morning school.

" Pierre will be ready, boss," was the answer,
and the speaker quickly departed to prepare the
horses for the riders.

The first hours of that morning, then, were
passed in a way that would not interest the
reader by learning a detailed description of the
same, though, of course, they were of much
interest to the Edyveans. Pigs, poultry, cows,
and horses were each visited in turn, and much
attention was given to the methods by which
Calvert raised his root and cereal crops. Con-
siderable^ care had also been bestowed by the
young rancher to the rearing of feathered stock
by means of incubators — an industry that is
feebly cultivated in the West, and which still

V*k '

Ranch Life

offers great opportunities of profit to the practical
poultry farmer. This feature particularly-
attracted Stewart, and he decided that no time
should be lost in introducing an extensive
chicken department to the Eoyvean ranch.

As the morning wore on, Calvert guided his
friends to the place of appointment known as the
"Cottonwood Clearing." This was an open
space of short meadow grass on the bed of the
Valley, closely surrounded by trees and heavy
brushwood. A narrow trail led through a dense
avenue into the clearing at one side, and gave a
similar exit at the other. It was an ideal spot
in which to corner animals for branding and
other purposes, for it formed a natural corral,
with only two exits that could be easily guarded
by a single horseman at either.

Soon after reaching this spot, the clatter of
many hoofs was heard approaching on the hard
trail. This was accompanied by the wild
** whoops" of Pierre, as he drove the band of
bronchoes at the canter ahead of him.

Instantly the boys were on the alert, and
Calvert assumed the duty of director of
proceedings.

" See ! " he said quickly to Dick. ** Will you
and your brother guard the exit so that the
bronchoes can't go straight through? I'll stay
over here, ready to close up the entrance as soon
as the herd is in."

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Comrades Three !

With ready agreement the brothers cantered
over to the place indicated, and took up their
positions.

Clatter, clatter came the hoofs, nearer and
nearer, while Pierre's cowboy cries became
louder.

Then in a few minutes after, with a noise
like a miniature thunderstorm, a living mass
plunged into the clearing with tails streaming,
heads tossing, and manes waving — some two
hundred animals in all, not one of which had
ever known bit or halter.

Following the trail, they made a direct lane
for Dick and Stewart, but a simultaneous whoop
from the brothers arrested the charge like an
electric shock. They stopped, stared at the pair
with wild, inquiring eyes through the heavy
fringes of forelock, stamped and pawed impa-
tiently with thoir feet, neighed, looked around,
•hook their shaggy heads, and generally, in a
horsey way, expressed their disapproval of being
interrupted so rudely in a very pleasant canter.
Then, scenting that something was wrong, they
began to trot round slowly and uneasily.

They tried the entrance, but Calvert was there
with a stock-whip in his hand. Clearly they
were not invited to pass in that direction. So
then followed more inquiring neighs and head-
shakings. Truly, it was a most mysterious and
not altogether polite sort of hospitality. For

Ranch Life

remember that horses are the gentlefolk of the
animal world. In matters of ordinary courtesy
they could give points to many a two-footed
master that they have to obey.

" Pierre ! You take my place here for a few
moments ! I want to speak to my friends,"
called Calvert. Then he rode across the
meadow.

" I want to pick out a nice beast for riding
purposes," he said. *' Which would you
suggest ? "

The Edyveans carefully scrutinised the herd,
but out of so many fine creatures it was a
difficult matter to make a decision off-hand.

"I am sure I don't know," Dick replied.
" They are all beauties ; it is difficult to decide
which would be best. What do you think,
Stewart ? "

But Stewart had already made up his mind.

" I know which I would prefer if the choice-
were mine," he said with keen interest.

" Which ? " asked Calvert with a little peculiar
smile at the corners of his mouth that no one
seemed to understand at the time.

" Why, that bay over there — next to the cream
in the middle of the herd," was the answer.
Then he went on enthusiastically : " Look at
her clean limbs, and the fine shape of her head !
And her chest, too — as strong as a coal barge !
Why, she is a perfect picture ! Yes ; that's the

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Comrades Three !

one that I would choose if it were for myself.
Got blood in her, too, if I am not mistaken ! "

" And not half a bad choice ! " returned Fred.
" Still, it would be a pity to be too hasty. Don't
you see anything better — the black, for example,
or the sorrel ? They are both fine beasts.'*

" Ripping ! Still, they don't come up to my
bay "

^^Your bay!" interrupted Dick with good-
humoured derision. " I like that ! You've soon
cribbed other people's property ! I am afraid,
old man, that it will be some time before we
can introduce blood mares like that upon our
ranch."

But Stewart was not easily subdued by chaffing.

" Wait until my chickens begin to pay "

** They are not hatched yet ! " interjected Dick.

"And meantime Pierre's fingers are fairly
itching to swing the loop of the lasso ! " laughed
Calvert. " Co.ne now, Stewart ! Shall we decide
upon the bay ? "

" Of course ! " T/as the response.

" Mind, if once the lariat is round her neck we
must not take it off again until she is broken
in," Calvert said cautiously.

"Why not make your own selection?" was
Dick's natural question, to which Calvert replied
with humorously exaggerated courtesy —

" Because I want to give my guests the choice.'*
Then he added with decision: "So it is to be

100

1^'

Ranch Life

the bay ? Right you are ! Pierre, I'll come and
take your place now. Then you can amuse your-
self with that bay mare in the centre of the herd
— the one with the white star on the forehead.
See ! She's looking towards you now ! "

'' Guess I know bay lady, boss," responded the
half-breed.

"Then nab her, and — remember what I told
you to do afterwards ! "

" Pierre remember," was the reply.

Then Calvert rode over to take up his post,
and the art of the half-breed began.

101

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CHAPTER IX.

' A-

PIERRE S ART.

A S the cowboy rode slowly forward, there was a
^^ sudden stir among the herd. This restless-
ness soon increased to a rapid movement of general
excitement, for the animals were well aWare that
danger was at hand, and they turned their heads
to face the rider with distended nostrils and
suspicious snortings.

Pierre was dressed in the regulation buckskin
garments of the cowboy, sa\e a gaudy waist-
band that betrayed the native's love for bright
colours. His mount was a stout little herd pony
named Billy. He sat on a heavy Mexican saddle
with a raw hide lariat ready fixed to the steel
pommel in froilt. Both horse and rider were
keen sportsmen. Billy understood that spirit of
the game quite as well as his master, and it was
plain to see by his movements (sqj^ly guided by
the swaying of the rider from right to left or vice
versa) that his nerves were on the alert to note
every point of the sport. Indeed, both seemed
to be guided by one will.

** Now, Billy, you got show them strangers

102

Pierre's Art

you very good cowboy ! " Pierre said in a scarcely
audible tone. " An' when we got bay mare, you
stick tight, and listen to Pierre — every word he
speak ! " And the intelligent animal pricked his
ears and listened to the instructions. He under-
stood all.

It was a picture to see the bronchoes now.
At last they had fathomed the deep cause of the
proceedings. They had heard Pierre talking to
Billy in that strain before, and their suspicions
were now certain knowledge.

Then followed a general movement, and every
horse turned to face the advancing cowboy.
Not a head was raised while they packed close
to each other in one dense body — all with the
object of preventing the deadly lariat from
finding its way to one individual among
them.

It is extraordinary the intelligence that bron-
choes show on such occasions. Even the bay
mare of Stewart's choice had apparently heard a
whisper of her fate, for she pushed her way into
the thickest part of the herd, and showed little
more than her shoulders and back.

But Pierre smiled scornfully. He had seen
these same tactics a hundred times before, and
knew well how to outwit them.

He was now ready for action. His left hand
held the coil of the lariat, one end of which was
fastened to the pommel; his right hand was

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Comrades Three !

shaking out the noose that was shortly to travel
as swift and unerring as a bullet.

This was what the herd had been anticipating,
and the sight of it caused a slight stampede
round the clearing. But the heads were still
carried low, and the number was a compact mass.

At a slight pressure from the rider's knees.
Bill pricked up his ears and started off in pur-
suit at a gentle amble.

Still the frightened bronchoes kept their noses
to the ground, and the doomed bay kept hers
lowest of all.

Round and round they cantered with Billy at
the rear, until the pursued began to become more
accustomed to the chase, and, thinking that it
was nothing more serious than a little silly
exercise, they began to lose some of their sus-
picions of the cowboy and his lasso.

That was Pierre's opportunity.

Sitting close to his saddle, he raised his right
arm and set the noose swinging round his head.
The horses started. Matters were now becoming
distinctly dangerous ! From security they were
swiftly startled into fear, and they scattered in
all directions, reckless of where they ran or which
direction they faced.

At this moment a wild cowboy shriek came
from Pierre's throat. A new danger ? Was it a
wolf? Each horse immediately threw up its
head to locate the origin of the sound, and at

104

Pierre's Art

the same instant the loop darted from the half-
breed'fa hand — uncoiling in mid-air like a writh-
ing serpent. Next moment the herd had fled
helter-skelter like scared chickens to a far corner.
But the bay mare was left alone, struggling and
plunging in the centre of the clearing — the raw
hide taut as a violin string between her neck
and the pommel of Billy's saddle, while Billy
himself was sitting back on his haunches pawing
the ground with his fore-feet. With a steady
eye the trained pony was watching the struggles
of the captured mare, and never permitting the
least slackness in the lariat.

How Billy's eyes flashed with the excitement
of the sport ! You have seen an expert angler
playing a wily trout at the end of his line — now
giving him a little length for space to run, now
rolling up the reel as the struggles became weaker
and fewer? That was Billy's attitude. He
knew that it was business to play the captive
until it fell exhausted to the ground. You could
sec that he understood all the tricks of the
game as he sat back, veering round as the mare
straggled, being all the time careful that the
lariat stretched in a straight line along the right
side of his neck.

After a time the frantic struggles became less
and the panting breath more hoarse, until at last,
unable to fight longer against the odds, the bay
dropped upon her side.

106

'4>3flMM9ra

Comrades Three !

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lit:

1 1

During these proceedings, there was nothing
novel in Pierre's method as compared with the
necessarily rough and ready methods of other
cowboys. But the touch of real art was yet to
come.

Billy's share in the proceedings was nearly
done. As the bay mare fell, Pierre slipped from
the ground and untied a halter and bridle from
the thongs where they had been fixed to his own
saddle. With these in his hand, he next
approached the prostrate animal. But even
then, when riderless, Billy did not permit a
bight in the lariat, but remained steadily in his
strained position.

Reaching the bay, Pierre deftly slipped on
both halter and bridle, tying up the reins, but
retaining a firm hold on the yard or two of rope
that was attached to the former.

And here was the moment when the half-
breed's art became more noticeable. He turned
to Billy, raised his hand with a movement
that the "sportsman" immediately recognised
as the signal to stand up and slacken the
lariat. The noose was then quickly slipped
from the mare's neck, after doing which Pierre
stood silently with the end of the halter rope
in his hands waiting until the bay recovered
consciousness. Meantime Calvert and the
Edyveans left their posts at the entrances
to the clearing, giving an opportunity for

106

Pierre's Art

escape, of which the herd was not slow to take
advantage.

Afte^ a time, the animal on the g. und began
to breathe more freely, and slowly opened her
eyes, and it was not long before she was able to
struggle up to her feet again, though she appeared
considerably dazed by the treatment she had
received.

But a horse's strength soon returns under such
circumstances as we have been describing, and
with a sudden spurt of energy she tried to dart
from her captors, and, finding that futile, reared
up and pawed the air angrily with her fore-legs.
A jerk from the halter rope quickly brought
her to earth again, wondering and amazed at the
strange experience.

Then Pierre turned to Calvert laconically :

*' Ready, boss ! "

" Right you are ! " returned Fred, after which
he looked towards Stewart. " See, old man !
Give me your horse's reins. Then go over to
Pierre and follow his instructions closely. It is
important for the mare to know you first ! "

" Why me ? " asked the lad, opening his eyes
with surprise, whereupon his friend laughed.

" Oh, never mind ! Just do as I ask, like a
decent chap, to oblige me ; and don't keep Pierre
waiting. Take it as a practical lesson in horse-
breaking, if you like. You will never find a
better master."

107

WOL

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Comrades Three !

Stewart good-naturedly did as he was desired,
but while he w^as crossing the flat, Dick turned
to Calvert.

** I oan understand you, Fred," he said quietly
though very seriously. " I understand what it
all means. But don't do it, old man. It is
awfully good of you, but — we can — wait."

" But 1 can't wait I " returned Calvert briskly.
" I owe Stewart a big debt, and I cannot wait
longer before I pay that debt. I slaughtered his
Dandy, you know, and he took it so good-
naturedly, thinking more of your trouble at the
loss than his own personal want."

** At the same time, you saved his life. That
was surely payment enough, if payment were
needed ? "

" And sc just because I happened to be of use
in one way, you want to rob me of giving myself
a little pleasure ? Come, Dick ! You are not
going to hinder me from doing this little thing
for old time's sake? We shared everything —
jam, cream, pasties — at Dunmere. What is the
difference now ? Besides, it will please Stewart,
you know."

Ah, Calvert, already you had learned Dick's
vulnerable spot, and you cunningly reached it !

" If you put it in that way, I can say nothing.
But it is awfully good of you, all the same.'*

" Rot ! " was the curt response. " Let's cut
jawing and watch Stewart at his lesson."

108

Pierre's Art

The boy was now beside the half-breed, who
was still holding a firm grip upon the halter-rope.
He took a handful of salt from his pocket as
Stewart approached and gave it to his pupil.

" You speak soft, young boss ! You no' think
danger ! Slip left hand along rope and speak to
mare — soft, kind ; she understand I "

Stewart did as instructed, and was Surprised to
find that, as he approached whispering, the bay
stood quite still, looking steadily at him and
listening with forward ears of intent interest to
understand the meaning of the soft words.

" Soft ! soft I " whispered Pierre. " Put hand
on nose ! Stroke gently I . . . Now bend down ;
breathe into nostrils 1 "

It all seemed like some dread spell of witch-
craft, but Stewart obeyed, all the same.

First he gently approached his hand. The
mare started at the first touch. Then she smelt
the salt. That was too great a temptation for
her to resist. Then finding that she had really
nothing to fear, she allowed the boy to extend
the caress until he actually touched her ears, she,
meantime, enjoying a feast of salt that the other
hand provided.

Then Stewart was conscious of Pierre's voice
urging the command that he had not heard
the first time : " Bend ! Give mare your
breath ! "

It was a strange order ; nevertheless, it was

109

ilSi

Comrades Three !

also obeyed. He bent forward and breathed
deeply right into the animal's nostrils.

The result was marvellous. No sooner did
the mare inhale the boy's warm breath than
all traces of fear suddenly left her, and she
was calm and trusting. That had been the
crowning point of Pierre's lore of the prairie.
It is thus that most animals greet each other.
To breathe the breath of a horse-friend is as a
human's ** shake hands." The bay fully under-
stood this salutation. It could mean nothing
else than friendship, and in future it need never
be feared that she would be other than obedient
and friendly to the one who first approached her
with the greeting that she understood.

These proceedings had all been watched with
great interest by Dick and Calvert. To the
former they were entirely fresh, and he could not
restrain a cry of admiration when at last he
saw the mare standing quite submissively accept-
ing the caresses that Stewart was now freely
giving.

" Well, that beats all ! " he exclaimed. " Who
but a native would have thought of tackling a
horse in that way, and using horse customs ! "

" Did I not tell you that what Pierre did not
know about the ways of liorses was not w'brth
any other person's trouble trying to find out ? ''
laughed Fred. Then riding up to Stewart he
said : " To-morrow you will have to repeat the

110

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Pierre's Art

breathing process and the salt-bribing. After
that we will put the saddle on her, and she'll go
like a lamb. By the way, what name are you
going to give her ? You must give your new
friend an appropriate title."

** I ? My new friend ? " repeated Stewart in
astonishment, somewhat taken aback by the
question.

"Why, yes I" replied Calvert. "She must
have a name of some sort. And she must be
yours now, for after all this she will never own
any master but you."

" But — I — don't — understand ! You mean

" That the mare is a little present for the sake
of old Dunmere days."

" Lummie ! " was all that Stewart could say
in his surprise. But that exclamation showed
proof of even more delight and appreciation
than even choice phrases might have done.

" Don't you want her ? " asked Fred carelessly.

" I'd love to, for she's a real beauty. But, as
a present — I can't — can I, Dick ? "

Being thus directly appealed to and having
previously given his agreement, the elder
Edyvean could only smile and shrug his
shoukiers with the action of: "Don't ask me.
/ can't say anything about the matter."

But Calvert had his own peculiar ways of
pressing a gift.

Ill

ill

Comrades Three!

"If you don't want her, Pierre can let her
loose among the herd again," he said indiffer-
ently, as if the whole matter was of no import-
ance to him. Then he added softly : ** Still, it
would be a pity after all the trouble that you
have taken. Best stick to a good thing while
you have the chance, and put pride in your
pocket to give others pleasure. That is my
advice, and jolly good advice it is, too ! "

Stewart needed no further urging after that.

''I say, Calvert, you are a brick, and no
mistake I " he exclaimed.

" Glad you think so," was the reply. " But
you know, human bricks have a way of toppling
down if the cement of friendship is not proved
to be the best. Better accept the new * Dandy,'
if only to prove that we really are chums."

" I don't think that there is much doubt on
that score," said Dick, and Calvert irrelevantly
replied —

**I guess it is about time to return to the
shanty for dinner."

«■'

112

CHAPTER X.

THE SPRITE IN THE RAVINE.

/^AL VERT'S guests remained with him for
three days, during which time they learned
much that would afterwards be of considerable
value to them.

Calvert's farm, under the direction of Lauder,
and aided by Pierre, was a model of its kind.
It was a great contrast to the amateur eflfort
that the Edyveans' homestead presented — the
latter being a typical example of the way
inexperienced people ignorantly attempt to
thrive on their ignorance. Some people seem
to think that farming is a calling at the com-
mand of any person who does not even know
the dijBference between a ploughshare and a
whiffle-tree. Failures and discontents at home,
they say: " Let's go to Canada and farm I " They
never think that it is a waste of time and money to
" set themselves up " in the North- West (or any
other West for that matter) without training.

I emphasise this point, because it is from this
very cause that so many complaints of emigrants

arise.

113

Comrades Three!

Imagine any sane man setting himself up in
practice as a doctor or a lawyer without first
undergoing special training.

Yet that is what scores of emigrants try to
do ; and thev turn out to be dismal failures.
They bemoan their fate ; they blame the emigra-
tion agents ; they bewail the barren state of
the land that will not give an hundredfold for
unscientific sowing. It does not occur to them
to blame self for a change before they abuse the
hospitable land that gives a hearty welcome to
all sane persons.

Fortunately, however, for their own future,
the Edyveans had not attributed their own
lack of success to any other cause than that
of ignorance. Of course, the proper thing for
them to have done at the beginning was, as
we have said, to have lived with some thriving
farmer until they had learned more of the
"hang of things." But for many reasons this
was out of the question, as they felt the necessity
of making some sort of home immediately.
Unlike the majority of newcomers, they
expected to be failures until they had had
more experience. Consequently, their meeting
with Calvert at this time was a very fortunate
occurrence, as it prevented many further errors
before greater errors took place. These three
days of visiting opened their eyes, and they
boldly intended to profit by what they saw.

114

The Sprite in the Ravine

And so, when they were ready for the return
home, they were full of gratitude and new hope.

" Thanks so much, old man," said Dick, when
the moment came for saying farewell. " We've
had a jolly time. You must come over to our
place soon and give us the benefit of more
advice on the spot."

"Jock's the man to invite, not me," replied
Calvert. "You'll find him still at your place,
I expect. If I were you I should keep him for
another day, and get him to give you a few
tips, if you want them. He will tell you more
in an hour than I could tell you in a week."

" Thanks. I'll be glad to do that," said Dick.

"And hints about the starting of my hen
ranch will be welcome," Stewart added. " The
incubator is going to be my special line, though
I don't suppose it will ever come up to yours."

"Rot!" was the modest answer. "A little
common sense is all that is wanted "

" We've heaps of that I " Stewart interrupted
merrily.

" and patience. How about that ? " com-
pleted Calvert.

At this question Stewart shook his head
lugubriously.

"Found wanting. Ain't got any. All the
patience in our family is swallowed up by
Dick."

"And all the blarney by Stewart," added the

115

"■i

Comrades Three !

Ml*:.

iia

'I %m ''

elder brother. "Now, come along! Mount
the new Dandy, and let's get a move on us."

Suiting the action to the word, Dick jumped
into the buckboard, while Stewart was as
quickly on the back of his latest possession,
which was now quite amenable to her new
master. There were a few more bantering
words of farewell; then .he Edyveans started
brisklr on the homeward trail.

The day was bright, and the boys were
cheerful, and the one half of the journey was
completed at a rattling pace. Then the trail
led to a part of the valley where it narrowed
between hills and ravines — through a heavy
growth of maple and ash. The road itself was
steep and rough, necessitating careful manoeuv-
ring by both rider and driver.

On approaching one point where the woodland
stretched out a long arm at right angles, ending
in a deep and gloomy ravine, Dick suddenly
pulled his rein, and pointed into the scrub.

" See ! " he exclaimed quickly. " Did you
not notice something moving there ? "

" Where ? "

" Right in the thick of that Saskatoon clump !
It seemed to me like a small bear, or perhaps a
lynx."

Stewart stared closely for a few minutes in the
direction indicated, but failed to observe either
bear or lynx.

116

The Sprite in the Ravine

" Imagination ! " was his remark. " I haven't
heard of any bears in these parts."

" Still, it might be one, all the sa^ne," replied
his brother. " Bears have been caught further
up the valley. See 1 There it is again ! "

Dick uttered the last words with much excite-
ment, and pointed a little further up the ravine
this time.

" Look ! Can't you see the branches moving,
and a dark fig are creeping along the ground ? "

This time Stewart's sharp eyes followed his
brother's guidance with better results.

•' I see," he said. " But that is no bear, Dick.
The body is smooth, as far as I can tell for the
scrub. Shall we follow it ? "

" It might be sport. I have got my revolver
as usual, so we need not mind if it is a small
bear. At any rate it is not a large one."

Stewart had dismounted by this time, and
tied his mare to a tree. Dick soon followed
suit, and the two were quickly pushing their
way through the bushes on the track of the
mysterious creature.

"It seems pretty cute for a bear," Stewart
commented after following the zig-zag path that
the animal led them. " It does not show much
of its body at a time. There it goes again ! "

The boys were now thoroughly excited, for
just as Stewart had spoken a dark something
was plainly visible through the tangled mass of

117

i <!

' '„

'fS

I I

Comrades Three !

brush and creepers, though not sufficiently clear
to give any definite idea as to the real nature of
the animal.

They pushed forward as quickly as the under-
growth would permit. But in an instant the
figure had disappeared again, and, by the time
the hunters had reached the spot where the
creature was last seen, it had entirely vanished
from sight.

The brothers stopped for a moment to listen
for any sounds to guide them further, but
nothing could they hear.

** Seems to me that we have lost him,"
remarked Dick with disappointment in his
voice. He was handling his revolver with a
hunter's nervous anxiety, for Dick was well
practised in the use of this weapon, having
made such shooting a habit for many years.

*' A wild goose chase ! " laughed Stewart. It
took much in the way of disappointment to
depress him.

But hardly were the words out of his mouth
than both the boys were startled by the cracking
of a dry twig close behind them.

" Hullo ! " was the simultaneous exclamation.

They wheeled instantly — Dick with his " gun "
ready to speak for itself. And there, cowering
in the hollow of an ancient maple trunk, the
'* animal " was found.

But it was not a bear. It was not even a

118

The Sprite in the Ravine

lynx. It was nothing more exciting than a
boy!

" Reynolds' kid I " exclaimed Stewart, and
Dick's answering grunt showed that he, too, had
recognised the child of the whisky-trader.

The youngster was evidently terrified at the
presence of the strangers, for some reason.
There was fear written all over his face as he
crouched into the hollow. He had the eyes of
a hunted thing, and fear flashed its many
questions through the unkempt hair that hung
over his forehead. He had been wild looking
enough on the previous occasions when he had
been seen at the Blackfeet camp and at Calvert's
ranch, but to-day he looked for all the world as
if he had just seen a ghost.

Still it was rather irritating to have such a
tame ending to an exciting chase, and Dick
could not help showing this in the words that
followed.

" Why, what imp's trick is this that you have
been playing upon us ? " he demanded roughly,
at the same time lowering his right arm and
replacing the revolver in his hip pocket.

But to this question the boy did not reply.
He just crouched further into the hollow, and
glared wildly at his discoverers like a dog-
pressed hare in a blind burrow.

" He seems to be a bit dottie ! " was Stewart's
matter-of-fact comment. Then he suddenly

Comrades Three !

gripped his brother's arm as he cried, "Look
out ! "

The warning was not any too soon nor the
action too ready, for at the same time there was
a flash and sharp "bang" from the hollow, and
a bullet sang past Dick's head and rattled its
way through the woods. The imp had had a
revolver concealed in the breast of his shirt (he
was wearing no jacket), and Stewart's eyes had
been the first to understand the outline which
the right hand had darted to grip.

But before the echoes had died through the
ravine, the younger lad had sprung forward and
gripped the desperate little bravo. He did not
pause to consider a possible second bullet that
might follow the first. He was too furiously
angry at his brother's danger to wait for reason.

At close quarters, the strup-gle was of course
an easy victory for the English lad, for the sprite,
though strong for his age, was little more than
ten years old. And before Dick could give any
assistance, the revolver was thrown through the
air, and the little savage locked in a young
Cornishman's "wrastlin"' grip. Then he was
dragged into the open, and the elder boy gripped
the arm that the younger left free.

"What on earth do you mean, you little
sinner ? " demanded Dick. " A youngster like
you to go about flourishing a revolver! You
ought to have a good hiding ! "

120

•• Look

lor the
3re was
►w, and
led its

had a
lirt (he
^es had

which

gh the
ird and
did not
et that
iriously
reason,
course
sprite,
re than
ve any
»h the
young
le was
ripped

little

jr like

You

The Sprite in the Ravine

*' And he'll get it 1 " added Stewart angrily.

But the child did not reply. He stood sulky
and defiant.

Stewart then gave him a hearty shake.

" Speak I " he oxclaimed. " Explain yourself,
if you don't want a stick on your back ! "

At this the boy began to whine, though it
was more with the cunning whine to obtain
freedom than that which comes from genuine fear.

•* Lemme go ! Hands ofi" I You ain't got any
right on our section ! This ain't your ranch ! "

" If you hadn't gone skulking about like
a coyote, we would not have come near your
* section,' as you call it," answered Dick, as he
gave the boy another shake and then loosened
his hold upon him. " Where do you live ? "

"What's that to you? Nothing, I guess,"
was the sullen reply.

"In this ravine?" again questioned Dick,
ignoring the last answer.

" I reckon that coons that come spying can
find out things for themselves," was all the
information forthcoming.

Seeing that the boy was nc longer dangerous
and seemingly not inclined to bolt for the time
being, Stewart also released his hold, and turning
to a tree, snapped off a lithe ash sapling.

" It appears to me that a cheeky kid will soon
find something that he isn't spying for if he
can't speak politely," was his significant remark.

121

mnnn

Comrades Three !

t !■

Yet the young savage appeared indiflferent to
the threat.

" You can lam me all day and all night too,
but it would take a hundred of these gads to
make me give away the old man," he said.
Then after a short pause he turned fiercely to
Dick. " What do you want here, anyway ?
My dad ain't got anything in the shanty."

Stewart dropped his sapling, as on second
thoughts it was a useless weapon against one so
young.

** We don't want your ' old man,' and we don't
particularly want you," he said. " But suppose
you tell us what made you carry on so sillily ? "

" Shan't tell anything ! The dad doesn't
want any police, and the police have nothing to
do with him ! " returned the child stubbornly.

At this Dick broke into a hearty laugh.

" Great Scott ! I believe the kid takes us for
police I " Then he turned to the boy, " Why,
youngster, do you think I look like an
officer ? "

The question was asked in the lightest of
good humour, but the boy r3ceived it with the
utmost seriousness. He looked steadily at his
interrogator for a few moments with critical
searching, and the boys noted with amusement
that the expression on his face showed rather
contempt than admiration.

"Well, now," he began slowly, like an old

122

The Sprite in the Ravine

[rent to

it too,
?ads to
said.
3ely to
lyway ?

second
one so

e don't

uppose

lily?"

'doesn't

hing to

nly.

[ us for
'Why,
je an

;est of
th the
at his
critical
ement
rather

n old

man considering some v/eighty matter, " all the
police in these parts have a sight better figure
than you ; and they're a deal quicker with their
guns "

"Not complimentary, but probably true, for
all that," Dick laughed. " But don't you
remember us the other night at Calvert's ranch ? "

At this question the young-old brow was
wrinkled with deep thought.

" Yes — I reckon I can place you — somewhere."

" And so, not being police, you have nothing
to be afraid of."

This suggestion of a possible fear was rather
unfortunate, as it immediately recalled the
pugnacious tendencies that had been almost
banished by a spirit of friendliness. Instantly
the youngster turned upon the speaker with
flashing eyes and at the same time straightened
his little figure, looking for all the world like an
infant Hercules in anger.

" Afraid ! " he echoed, with all the contempt
of which he was capable. ** Guess I ain't afraid
of you — police or no police ! If it hadn't been
for a rag of shirt catching the trigger-guard,
I reckon I'd have pumped both of you full of
lead five minutes ago before you had time to
wink your eyes ! " The words were thrown out
with all a young braggart's exaggerated pride,
but immediately after they were spoken, a some-
thing inside him seemed to waken a more

123

Comrades Three !

ill MP%i

i IIhI

■M

childish trait. Probably it was a secret longing
for friends that he only seemed now to half
understand — friends younger than the men he
had been accustomed to find around him, and
there was a sad burden of that longing as he
added : " It would have been as easy as winking,
but — Fm glad I didn't do it, now."

" Poor little beggar ! " Dick sighed to himself.
" What a life his must be ! "

But the softened spirit in the child did not
remain uppermost for long. Inured to danger
from police and their spies, his mind quickly
reverted to previous doubts as to the presence of
the visitors.

" If you ain't police, who are you, and what do
you want ? " he asked, and then Dick, recalling
the discussion that had taken place with Calvert
and Lauder in regard to the possible reclaiming
of Reynolds, realised that perhaps the present
was the opportunity for which he bad sought.

" I want to see your father," was his reply.

Stewart turned to his brother with a look of
questioning surprise, but a meaning glance
quickly recalled the matter to him in the same
light that it had appeared to Dick.

Again the suspicious light flashed into the
youngster's eyes.

" My dad ? You want to see him ? " Then
he asked cautiously, and in a half- whisper, " Is
it— whisky ? "

124

longing
o half

nen he

m, and
as he

nking,

limself.

iid not
danger
quickly
ence of

rhat do
^calling
Calvert
aiming
present

ook of
glance
e same

:o the

Then
r, " Is

The Sprite in the Ravine

Without acknowledging or denying the ques-
tion, Dick merely repeated his previous words.

" I want to see your father. Lead the way to
your shanty, and we'll follow."

Taking silence for assent as so many children
and weak thinkers do, the lad's mind was set at
rest. Customers to his father's trade were no
rare persons.

" I guess you've come at the wrong time," he
said. " The old man's off somewhere ; T don't
know where. I've been with the Indians these
two days ; came back last night. But the house
is empty, and the old man's nowhere. I skinned
in by a window and took some grub. I pinched
one of his guns as well. Now I'm on guard till
he comes back. It's just as good that I am, for
I sighted half-breed Pierre skulking in the ravine
last night. He didn't see me — as well that he
didn't, for he'd have skinned me if he caught me.
He hates the old man and me. I ain't afraid of
many, but I'd sooner meet a grizzly than Pierre
any day."

" You're a plucky chap," remarked Stewart at
this juncture. "But I shouldn't be afraid of
Pierre if I were you. Your father can take care
of himself, I suppose, and it wouldn't do him any
good to hurt you."

Stewart had meant to be soothing with the
child's fears, but as he spoke he saw the boy's
face whiten and his lips begin to tremble, though

125

i'' iii.

Comrades Three !

he set his teeth bravely and tried to control him-
self.

" If you'd seen Pierre as I saw him last night,
boss, you'd have sung different I " he replied in
tones of awe. "He was running like a mad
beast, and I could see blood in his eyes. He'd
have killed me certain if he'd seen me. That's
what I saw in his face."

" Ugh I Pierre's the kind that sees ghosts.
Most likely he was afraid of your dark ravine,"
remarked Dick lightly. It was a weak saying,
and both the brothers recognised it as such.
But he could think of nothing better to say at
the moment, for his mind was now full of more
dreadful thoughts than even the child had
dreamed of He gave Stewart a warning look
not to speak the thoughts that he was sure his
brother must be sharing with him after remem-
bering the story that Cah ert had told.

" Suppose — we go up to your place and — and
have a bite of grub," he then suggested. "We've
been out all the morning ; and now that you
know we are friends you cannot object, even
though your father is — absent."

" There ain't much there," returned the boy.
" The cow's not milked. I've not been up to the
house since last night. Pierre might have come
back, you know. It's a sight safer in the bush."

" But there's nothing to fear now that we are
three to one !" responded Dick. "And I dare

126

[1 him-

night,
(ied in
mad
He'd
(That's

jhosts.

ivine,"

aying,
such.

say at
f more
I had
g look
lire his
emem-

The Sprite in the Ravine

say there will be grub of some sort to be
found."

*' Bacon and bread — perhaps a few pota-
toes " began the boy, and Stewart, readily

falling in with his brother's humour, interrupted
cheerfully —

" What better do hungry chaps want ? You
lead the way, old boy, and I guess, if it's only
firewood you've got, there is an appetite in me
that is good enough to make a meal of a log ! "

" Right, boss ! " was the immediately submis-
sive answer. " I reckon you two are the sort
that always get your own way."

"Bull's eye, first shot!" was Stewart's
rejoinder, and then the Edyveans started up
the ravine in the wake of their young, and no
longer reluctant guide.

'. — and

We've

it you

even

J boy.
to the
come
3ush."
ve are
. dare

127

CHAPTER XL

A TIMELY RESCUE.

I ETTING the young boy advance a little way
out of immediate earshot, Stewart edged
close to his brother.

"What's the game, Dick?" he asked in an
undertone. " Do you think that Pierre "

" Has kept his promise ? Yes. That's what
is in my mind," replied the elder. "It seems
that we are going to be just too late to render
the old man any service in this world. "

"But perhaps he got frightened and cleared
out. Or perhaps the old man gave back as good
as was offered."

" We'll find out that in a short time, I have
no doubt," Dick said. "But if you remember
Pierre's face this morning before we left the ranch,
you'll recall that there was something peculiarly
happy about it. I thought he seemed particularly
jolly. The murder of an enemy would be just
the sort of thing to make that kind of man happy."

Stewart gave a shudder of disgust.

"I hope it's not as bad as that," he said.
" However, we are in for it now, so we have got

128

P -v

A Timely Rescue
to carry through whatever may be ahead of

le way
edged

in an

s what

seems

render

cleared
LS good

[ have
ember
ranch,
iliarly
ularly
e just

>»

said,
e got

us.

" And perhaps it may be a false alarm after
all ! " added Dick with forced cheerfulness. I
say " forced," because there was no doubt but
that his mind was full of the most ominous
forebodings, though he did not wish to let his
brother know how much he feared.

The adventurers had just climbed a short steep
in the bosom of the ravine, and on turning a
bend ^n the path, they caught sight of a portion
of Reynolds' house seen through the trees.

" Well, it is a rum-looking shanty if ever there
was one ! " was Dick's comment at the first
view.

" More like a heap of packing-cases tumbled
together than a decent white man's mansion,"
was Stewart's verdict. Then he suddenly came
to a halt and gripped his brother's arm.

" Look ! " he exclaimed in tones of surprise, as
he pointed towards the stables that stood a little
way to the rear of the house.

And well might he be surprised, for two great
timber wolves were at the door looking in — one
was lying patiently like a huge collie waiting for
her dinner; the other was standing at the
entrance, with the neck hair bristling, and lips
turned back with readiness to bury the white
teeth in some victim that the walls of the stable
hid from the eyes of the Edy veans.

129

Comrades Three!

I? '^ ^

¥^;

A ready instinct immediately told Dick that
they were on the very threshold of some horror,
and as usual his first thought was not for him-
self. He ran forward a few steps before their
young guide had time to observe the scene.
The boy had been following the flight of some
ducks at the moment, and so his eyes had been
skywards instead of towards more vital things.

" See here. Imp ! " said Dick hastily. ** I
forgot all about our bronchoes tied at the foot
of the ravine. They'll be fretting by this time.
You might go down and bring them up along.
You can unhitch the one from the buckboard and
leave the vehicle below for the time being."

But the boy was not to be so easily diverted
from his own will.

" I ain't a hired hand to run after shags ! " he
returned sulkily.

" You are our host," replied Dick persuasively.
"Surely you will look aft r your father's
visitors."

"I'll hunt up grub for you," said the boy.
" What else do you want ? But I'm not going
to run about the ravine herding other people's
bronchoes. Not likely ! "

"Not even for a fresh dollar bill?" asked
Dick, pulling a crisp note from his pocket, and
all the time taking care that the boy's back was
turned to the stable.

The boy thoughtfully looked at the outstretched

130

A Timely Rescue

hand. The temptation was great, and the money
drew his will as a magnet to steel.

" Make it two, boss ! " he exclaimed with
sudden yielding. "Make it two, and the
bronchoes will be here inside of half an hour.
You may bet your boots on that I "

**I don't mean to bet my boots or anything
else," returned Dick with a coolness that he did
not feel. He was momentarily expecting to
hear a noise from the stable that would tell him
that all his caution had been in vam. " I'll bet
nothing ; but if you want two dollars, you
greedy young monkey, here they are ! "

Instantly the child snatched at the money.

" That's something like talk ! " he exclaimed,
and a moment afterwards had disappeared down
the path up which the three had just trudged.

Now the Edyveans were at liberty to turn
again to the stable.

Being on the leaside while a stiff breeze was
blowing from the prairie, the approachers had
not been scented by the wolves. And their
attention was evidently too much taken up by
some object of interest within the stable to
observe the very faint sounds that the boys had
hitherto made. They were lean brutes, though
huge of their kind, and it needed no experienced
eye to gather that what they were watching —
man or beast — was with the quickly fleeting
patience of hungry food-hunters.

131

Comrades Three!

On creeping closer, Stewart was the first to
notice the sound of a slight moan coming from
inside the stable.

"That's old Keynolds, I believe!" he
whispered to his brother. *' I hope so, for then
the — worst that we feared has not happened."

" I hope so, too," returned Dick fervently ;
but just as he spoke the blood of both the boys
ran cold as the moaning sound was suddenly
changed to a wild laugh like that of an evil
spirit.

" Come on I Come on ! " they heard a man's
voice cry. " Two to one — two beasts to one !
That's good ! But my claws can scratch, and
my teeth can bite too ! Ha-ha 1 Come on, if
you're not afraid ! . . . Ah!^* The last exclama-
tion died away into a pitiful moan again as
though the utterer had been seized with a sudden
spasm of pain and weakness — at least, that is
what it sounded to the boys. And the same
impression seemed to be in the minds of the
wolves, for the great dog wolf crouched for a
spring. His moment had come. The hair on
his neck bristled firmer, his ears pricked forward
and his mouth gaped. Only a second he sank
upon his haunches ; then he leapt v^ith a howl
straight into the door of the stable.

Simultaneous with the spring, Dick's revolver
spoke, and the female that had half risen dropped
back upon her tracks from a perfect aim.

132

le first to
ling from

ve!" he
, for then
pened."
ervently ;
the boys
suddenly
3f an evil

d a man's
;s to one !
batch, and
)me on, if
it exclama-

again as
1 a sudden
it, that is

the same
ds of the
bed for a
e hair on
d forward
I he sank
h a howl

i revolver
1 dropped
1.

•' ' KIRE STKAICllT INTO HIS MOUTH ! TAKK CARK ! WATCH

MV HANDS/ ■'

[p. 136.

I-

■'I

A Timely Rescue

Then growls, mingled with wild, mad screams,
filled the air with hideous sound.

The brothers rushed forward to the door of
the stable, and what a sight met their eyes !

Rolling on the ground were two forms of a
man and a wolf — the former clutching desperately
at the ears of the latter to ward off the deadly
attack ; the latter yelping in a vicious frenzy to
reach the man's bared throat. It was indeed
Reynolds. But his clothes hung from him in
rags, the place where he lay was drenched with
blood, and as he wrestled with the wolf, the
boys were horror-struck to see that his back was
covered with the same loathsome crimson. Yes,
it was a terrible picture. Of course it was seen
in a flash of time, though it takes longer to
describe. And to their dying day it is not
likely that either of the Edy veans will forget the
scene of the wolf, each second gaining nearer to
its victim's throat, while the man screamed in
terror and showed his teeth, too, in his madness,
with evident intent to use these animal weapons
if need be. It was no longer a struggle between
man and beast. Madness had dehumanised the
former, and it was a duel of two animals, of
which the wolf was more the conqueror.

To use his revolver at such a time was out of the
question. The bullet might as easily reach one
of the writhing figures as the other, and Fate, at
such times, usually picks out the wrong victim.
9 135

It!^;-')

Comrades Three!

With one will, then, the two boys flung
themselves upon the vicious wolf, which greeted
the attack with a roar of anger. Dick buried
his fingers in the animal's throat, while Stewart
hung on wherever a hold was possible.

But a half-famished timber wolf is no slight
antagonist to tackle in a hand-to-hand struggle,
even three to one. His muscles are like steel,
and his endurance unbelievable. Moreover,
Reynolds was too distracted to give assistance.
The desperate hold that he retained was a
hindrance to his rescue than otherwise. But at
last the boys were able to drag the howling
beast from its would-be prey.

Throwing his full weight into the exertion,
Dick pressed the wolf upon its bae'i, and sat
astride its body, with a tight grip on its throat.
Both boy and beast were panting for breath.
But the wolf had the more sustaining power of
the two.

"Take my revolver, Stewart — hip pocket —
quick, while I've got him like this I " Dick cried.
** Fire straight into his mouth ! Take care \
Watch ray hands ! "

It was but the work of a moment for Stewart
to obey the order. There followed a hurried
movement on his part, a quick flash of light, a
bang, and a wild yelp of pain. Then Dick and
his brother stood up to wipe the perspiration
from their faces. The wolf lay dead at their feet.

136

CHAPTER XII.

SERGEANT WOODflOW.

"IJANDSup!"

* * A loud voice, well used to tones of
command, rapped out these words from the door-
way of the stable.

Needless to say, the sudden interruption was
considerably startling, ?nd the boys were still
more startled when they turned and found them-
selves staring along the barrel of an army Colt
that was held firmly in the right hand of a
strapping man dressed in the well-known
uniform of the North -West Mounted Police.

*' Hands up ! " the order was again repeated.
" I'm Sergeant Woodrow of the Police, and I
don't speak three times ! "

Though thoroughly mystified at the stranger's
proceedings, the boys had no other course but
to obey. Their hands shot up into the air,
though Stewart still retained Dick's revolver in
his right.

" Young at the trade ! But I've drawn a
bead on you this time. I'll thank you for that
shooter 1 "

137

'■;.'"

Comrades Three !

Thus said the intruder roughly as he walked
up and plucked the weapon from the lad's fingers
and shoved it into his belt.

Being altogether ignorant of the ofl&cer's
motives, the brothers were rather amused than
otherwise at the proceedings.

" What on earth do you mean ? " exclaimed
Dick. **What do you take us for — horse-
thieves ? "

" That remains to be found out. I heard
voices — a gun ; and I see — this ! "

Being a " dug-out " and free from windows, it
was hardly surprising after all that the energetic
officer should have slightly erred in his surmises.
In his haste he had not noticed the dead wolf
near the outer door; in the gloom he had not
seen the one on the floor. But what he did see
was the apparently lifeless body of old Reynolds,
who had rolled over on his face, and from whose
back the blood was now streaming through his
shirt from a wound between the shoulders.
Seeing this, the sergeant's natural conjecture was
that there had been foul play. In this he was
correct ; but his error was in his surmise as to
the perpetrators of the deed.

" Now then, young fellows, I guess you'll have
to march outside ! " he next commanded sharply.
** One of you will tie up the other ; I'll truss the
remaining one myself."

This was too much for Stewart's gravity. The

138

Sergeant Woodrow

thought of being mistaken for a brigand amused
him immensely.

"Say, police-chap, where on earth were you
brought up ? " he laughed. " I've done murder,
sure enough ; but it was only in self-defence I "

"That remains to be proved," returned the
officer seriously. He was too old a hand to be
thrown off his guard by any affectation of
humour.

" Prove it now ! " returned Stewart. " Examine
the body ; it's close here at my feet. I'd pick it
up for you to see better if you'd just take down
that pop-gun of yours for half a second."

At this Woodrow gave an exclamation of
anger.

" I'd advise you to keep your tongue a little
better in check, youngster," he said with a
dangerous frown, whereupon Dick's patience
nearly reached its limit. He lowered his arms
from their ridiculous position.

" Quit fooling over the carcase of a dead wolf,
officer — for that's what my brother shot — and
let us attend to poor Reynolds. The poor beggar
is not dead yet, but he is quickly bleeding to
death while we are wasting time."

Without waiting for the sergeant's "Yea" or
" Nay," Dick stepped over to where the wounded
man lay unconscious, and at once began to
examine the wound. It was impossible for the
officer to mistake the tone of the speaker's voice,

139

Comrades Three !

III;.; ; ^.:.-

which indicated the utmost contempt for a hasty
bungle. His eyes, too, were becoming more
accustomed to the dim light of the stable, and a
better look at the boys' faces convinced him that
he had gentlemen of honour to deal with and no
criminals. Woodrow was himself a gentleman
by birth and education, like so many of the
members of the Force, and he was as ready to
acknowledge his mistake as he had been quick
to make it. We must not blame him for his
hasty conclusions. A policeman in the North-
West has very frequently to judge a man
guilty until he has proved himself innocent — a
reversal of the usual order of affairs in more
orderly lands.

*' I ask your pardon I I see that I was wrong,"
he said quietly, as he quickly followed the elder
boy's example and bent down to assist in the
examination of the old man's condition. " It is
not often that I make mistakes like that, but the
darkness of the — Great Scott ! What a ghastly
wound ! "

The officer had ripped open Reynolds' shirt,
and as he spoke he exposed to view a deep cut
some two inches across. It was no wound such
as might have been caused by accident or the
fangs of a wolf. The boys recognised this
horrible fact as well as the sergeant, who rapidly
scanned their faces with a look of puzzled
questioning.

140

Sergeant Woodrow

" We saved him from a coyote," began Dick,
not knowing how much he ought to tell of his
fears and suspicions at the moment. He had no
good evidence against Pierre, whatever he might
think ; and, Briton-like, he shrank from accusing
on mere surmise. Moreover, the wound seemed
freshly made, for it was bleeding profusely.

But Woodrow's experienced eye soon explained
the last matter.

"The coyote only finished what man began,"
was his verdict. "That cut was made many
hours ago, and a struggle with a wolf probably
reopened it."

*' Do you think that he has been — stabbed ? "
questioned Stewart.

" No doubt about it," was the prompt reply.
"He was stabbed from behind by a coward's
hand ! "

The sergeant spoke bitterly; then he turned
to Dick with a laugh : "You are cleared now,
boys ! No Englishman's hand ever struck that
blow, and no white man ever handled the knife
that did it. It was a dirty redskin. But I'll
P'^e to that later. Meantime, one of you might
go into the house and see what you can find to
make bandages with. This flow of blood must
be stopped before we can think of moving him.
Anything will do — an old sheet or a towel — any-
thing for first aid."

Stewart was ofi" like a shot, and soon returned

141

Comrades Three !

t- i'fl

i ^

with some necessary linen that he found after a
little rummaging.

"I'm a bit of a surgeon — walked Guy's for
two or three years before I took to the Police,"
Woodrow remarked, as he at once proceeded to
give the wounded man the benefit of rough-and-
ready (though none the less skilful and effective)
surgical assistance. But during these operations
Reynolds barely showed any signs of life.
Indeed, his breathing was so slight that it was
almost imperceptible.

Then the policeman stood up.

" That will save his life, I hope ! " he remarked,
as he eyed his handiwork with satisfaction. " He
is still unconscious, and it would be best to
keep him where he is for a time. But that is
out of the question in this stable. He must be
moved. There is a risk of the bleeding starting
again, but that is a risk we must take, for he
must be carried indoors."

" If there were a loose door or a few planks to
make a stretcher with, it would be the easiest
way to carry him," suggested Stewart. But no
s^oh conveniences being forthcoming, it was
decided to carry the patient in his nurses' arms
— a feat that was carried out with tenderness and
care. Very gently he was raised. Stewart and
Woodrow took the head and shoulders, while Dick
supported the lower limbs. Then slowly they
moved from the stable in the direction of the

142

after

ly's for
iPolice,"

ided to
|gh-and-

•ective)
leratioDs
of life.
) it was

marked,

best to
) that is
must be
starting
, for he

tanks to
! easiest
But no
it was
es' arms
less and
art and
lile Dick
ly they
. of the

Sergeant Woodrow

house which, fortunately, was only a stone's
throw away.

As the bearers went out from the door, Dick
caught sight of the " sprite " leading Bess and
Dandy up the ravine. At the same instant the
boy also observed the strangers. But a mere
glimpse of the police uniform was enough to
alarm him. He did not wait for anything
further, but instantly turned the horses from the
trail and dived from sight among the bushes,
where he could see without being seen.

Knowing from earlier experience that the child
was capable of any rash action in the presence of
fancied danger, Dick at once called out to
reassure him.

" Here, kid 1 Come along ! There's nothing
to be afraid of ! "

But no answer was given to his words by
either voice or presence.

"Who is it? — Reynolds' youngster?" asked
Woodrow.

" Yes. I saw him a little while ago. He was
bringing up our horses ; but he has vanished
again."

A look of pity passed over the officer's face.

" Let him go," he remarked, " He'll Isarn the
truth soon enough. I am told that old Reynolds
was always very good to the youngster when not
in drink, and they say that the boy was as true
as steel to his father. It'll be sad news to learn

143

Comrades Three !

that the old man has been almost murdered —
perhaps altogether murdered, for all we can tell
at present. In any case it will be touch-and-go
with him."

"Do you not think that the kid might
be able to give you some hint as to the person
who made the attack ? " Dick then ventured
cautiously.

Woodrow gave a hard laugh at the sugges-
tion.

** My dear fellow, you evidently don't know
much about the youngster. If he knew the
man, there would be very little need for me to
go on his track. Young Arty Reynolds is well
known in the district, and small chap though he
is, he is as handy with his gun as the best of us,
and he can track like the best tracker in the
police. Bless you I if he knew the hand that
did this, he'd sneak about like a snake until he
put a bullet into the murderer's heart."

' But probably he knows nothing about it ? "
suggested Stewart ; to which the man replied —

" That is my reason for keeping him out of
the way at present. I" he did know, it would
be taking my duty out of my hands, and only
give me the trouble of a more slippery eel to
spike, instead of a comparatively simple Indian."

*' Then you still hold to the belief that the
man was an Indian ? " Dick ventured.

" No doubt about it ! " was the immediate

144

lered —

lean tell

and-go

might
persou
lentured

sugges-

t know
lew the
me to
3 is well
ough he
;st of us,
r in the
md that
until he

)ut it?"
jplied —
1 out of
it would
nd only
y eel to
Indian."
that the

Lmediate

Sergeant Woodrow

rejoinder, given in so positive a tone that the
lads deemed it best to keep their own counsel
of their suspicions for the present. To explain
them would only be to speak into ears that were
already deaf with self-convinced theories. And
perhaps these suspicions might be wrong, in
which case more harm than good would be done
by imparting them.

No further words were passed until the
bearers gob their patient indoors, and had laid
him on a bed in an inner room that opened off
the kitchen. Then Woodrow set himself to
work to apply his knowledge in restoring con-
sciousness, while the brothers went out to look
after their horses, and bring Woodrow's, which
had been fastened at a near place which he
described.

By the time they returned, they found
Reynolds lying apparently asleep, with the
sergeant as sick nurse sitting by the side of the
bed.

" I hav.^ got him round a bit," he explained
as the boys tiptoed in. " Suppose you fellows
take my place for a bit now while I go and have
a look about the homestead. It won't do for
me to neglect my work. True, I came here
intending to give Reynolds a last warning about
his trade, for I have got evidence enough in my
handr> now to convict him any day and clap him
in gaol for several years. But we in the police

145

Comrades Three !

w: *'

try to prevent crime more than fill the prisons ;
I intended to give him a last chance of reforming.
But now, you see, I have lighted on another
matter that I did not expect. So I must not
waste time in looking for any possible clues."

'* r«.ight you are 1 " agreed the elder Edyvean.
" If you want to have a look round, we'll stay
here for a bit."

" He is not likely to need any special atten-
tion," Woodrow explained, as he rose from his
chair. " I have propped him on his left side, as
you see. Keep him like that. I'll fix up the
horses comfortably while I'm out, for we'll have
to wait here for a few hours — at least Til have
to, and if you have no special call to take you
away, your company would be welcome."

"All serene," returned Dick. "There's no
particular hurry for us, is there, Stewart ? "

" Not much ; only we'd better not be too
late." Then the boy turned to explain to
Woodrow : " You see, we have been visiting our
friend Calvert for three days, and he lent us his
man, Lauder, to look after our ranch."

* ' Calvert ! " exclaimed the sergeant with
immediate interest. " I know him well. He's
one of the best ranchers in the district. We've
had many yarns together when my duty has
taken me in his district. He is one of the
strongest supporters we have against Reynolds'
trade."

146

Jons ;

ling.

lother

It not

Is."

'vean.

stay

atten-
m his
ide, as
ip the
have
I have
:e you

•e's no

)e too
lin to
Dg our
us his

with
He's
We've
}y has
jf the
'■nolds'

Sergeant Woodrow

" Whisky-smuggling," completed Dick. " And
a viler trade was never invented. I know that
Calvert is against it. He said so to us."

*• Ah ! he's one of the best, Calvert is ! "
remarked Woodrow enthusiastically.

" And one of the finest centre-forwards in
Cornwall," added Stewart.

Woodrow nodded approvingly.

" Good ! That is always the sign of a decent
fellow. Good at footer ; good at living. To
parody an old saying : * The battles of life are
won on the school footer fields.' Let those who
despise athletics in a healthy way beware of the
Game of Life. Such chaps will lose without one
goal to their credit. . . . Well, I'm oflF to make
a few professional notes ; if I stay longer, you
will put me down as a regular old preacher of a
policeman ! " And so saying, the officer laughed
lightly and strode out of the room.

m^\

CHAPTER XIII.

DICKS SECRET.

AS the sergeant departed, the brothers drew
^^ their chairs near to the window, where they
could talk quietly without fear of disturbing the
patient.

" This is a bad job, Stewart," the elder
began. ** I wish we had not become mixed
up in it.

" To my mind, it looks very suspicious against
Pierre," said Stewart.

" And to mine, too," was the rejoinder. " But,
of course, we cannot be sure, and it is difficult to
know what is best to be done."

"What do you think? Ought we not to
explain everything to Woodrow ? "

" I think not. You see, we know nothing for
certain. All we have to go upon are suspicions,
and, as you heard, Woodrow's suspicions are not
the same as ours. My own opinion at present
is, that we ought to wait until we see how
Reynolds gets on. If he recovers, then we can
explain to him and let him take what action he
thinks best for himself. If he dies, then, of

148

Dick's Secret

s drew
re they
ing the

J elder
mixed

against

"But,

ficult to

not to

ling for
picions,
are not
present
ie how
we can
bion he
len, of

course, we shall have to tell all that we know or
suspect."

" In any case it was fortunate for the old man
that your revolver was at hand," said Stewart.
" A hand-to-hand fight with two wolves would
have been worse to tackle than with one."

"Yes," returned Dick tl oughtfuUy ; " I think
we may flatter ourselves that we saved his life
for him. It was a touch-and-go. If he recovers,
I think that his nearness to death ought to make
him better — that is to say, if he has any of the
man left in him."

" Ugh ! Just think how horrible it must have
been for the poor beggar lying there unable to
help himself, seeing two great hungry wolves
waiting until he was weak enough to be pounced
upon. I would be sorry for a rat in such a
plight, wouldn't you ? "

"Indeed I would," Dick replied. And both
the boys shuddered as they recalled the scene.

For some time after this brief conversation,
the boys preserved silence. To all appearances,
Reynolds was now sleeping quietly, for he still
lay motionless in the position in which Woodrow
had so carefully placed him. But it would
have considerably surprised the watchers had
they known that, while the eyes were seemingly
asleep, the ears had been very keen for some
time.

Though furrowed with pain and the results of

149

Comrades Three!

a misled life, the close observer might have
discerned a wealth of energy and strength in the
face that looked so still in sleep, and an examina-
tion of the limbs would have been a surprise
picture of vigour. Though severely wounded,
he had rapidly recovered a certain degree of his
normal state. For reasons of his own, however,
he did not at first let this consciousness become
fully known. In the first place, his natural
caution told him that he would have a better
chance of finding out the purpose of Woodrow's
presence by this pretence; later, he decided
that there were other matters of no less
importance that it would be well for him to
understand also : these referred to the two
youths who had rescued him.

And so, you see, he had been listening to
every word that had passed in the room from the
time when the brothers had returned from
looking for their horses. Truth to tell, at first
he had very little knowledge of what had passed
for some time. The last thing he had recalled
was that teriible leap of the dog-wolf. And
when he came to understand that it was indeed,
two boys who had saved his life, he had great
difficulty in refraining from speaking his gratitude.
For there was still something " of the man still
left in him I " The withered heart had yet some
tender spots in it, and it was one of those spots
that the bravery of the Edyreans had touched.

160

it have

in the

camina-

I surprise

founded,

ie of his

owever,

become

natural

a better

oodrow's

decided

no less

' him to

the two

;eniag to
from the
led from
[j at first
id passed
. recalled
If. And
IS indeed
lad great
;ratitude.
man still
yet some
ose spots
ouched.

Dick's Secret

He moved his lips to speak, but immediately
closed them again. The brothers had resumed
their confidential talk, and there was some
instinct that warned him that what would follow
was destined to be of even more interest to him
than what had come before.

Whilst examining the contents of the room,
Stewart's quick eyes had lighted upon a photo-
graph of a familiar scene of the Cornish coast —
a view of the beautiful sandy beach of Poleseath,
vvith the giant headland of Pen tire in the dis-
tance. He gave a gasp as he recognised it.
Dick heard the stifled cry, and turned quickly.
He also recognised the picture, and he could
not help seeing that his brother's lip was
trembling slightly for the sake of the love of
his dear homeland.

That was the first time since they had come
to the North- West that it had occurrerl to Dick
to question ^whether his brother was quite happy
in the new life. Hearing nothing of complaint,
he had hoped that his was the only homesick
heart on the ranch. Of course, Cornwall had
often been the topic of conversation during
these months of their exile. Sometimes it had
been in fun ; sometimes in tender reminiscence.
But Stewart knew how much his brother had
sacrificed for him. Hence he had always
managed to hide his deeper feelings on this
subject, so as to convey the impression tl it he

10 151

ii.l

t 7

If I

Comrades Three !

was quite contented in the new life. " What's
the use of making Dick miserable with my
moans? He has taken enough of my troubles
as it is," had been the plucky way he had
reasoned with himself.

But to-day, the unexpected picture in Rey-
nolds' house had taken him by surprise when
he was least prepared, and it was not unmanly
in him to feel emotion at the thought of his
home.

I would not give a rap for a fellow that would
not have felt just the same, and I would think
even more of him if there were two or three
tears visible as well as a trembling lip.

Dick reached out his hand sympathetici«lly.
" Poor old chap 1 " he said softly. " Do you
miss it as much as that ? "

Taken by surprise and at a moment of weak-
ness, Stewart had not the strength to treat the
matter lightly as he might have done on another
occasion.

" Oh, Dick, sometimes I would just give
anything for a peep at the sea again — to hear
the birds cry, to climb over the rocks, to plunge
into the Horse Fool— anything only to see

the old place as it was before — before — I "

The lad stopped. He felt that he had almost
said too much. But Dick completed the sentence
for him, speaking low, but not so softly but
that the man on the bed heard every word.

152

Dick's Secret

((

Before you did that noble deed for Willie

Crewes."

Stewart started, fluahed, and turned to his
brother with astonishment.

" Then — you — know f " he gasped.

"Everything," was the reply. Then Dick
went on affectionately: "Stewart, old chap,
we have not spoken of this since we left school.
I never asked you more than once to confide in
me, and at that time you refused. But don't
think that I ever mistrusted you. I knew that
you were incapable of doing a dishonourable act ;
so I preferred to wait until you could tell me
the full story of your own free will. But — it
is as well to tell you now — on our last night at
Dunmere, I learnt your secret."

" But how — how ? " exclaimed Stewart in
amazement. " I told no one, and Crewes "

" I don't suppose he told any person either.
Do you remember that last night at Dunmere ? "

" I can never forget it. I think it was one of
the most miserable that I shall ever spend. I
slept in the sick-room. I had been there ever
since I took brain fever on that day when
Doctor Wan:*.! told the school that I was to
be expelled."

"Well, that was when I heard your secret,"
said Dick. " I had come into the room rather
late, hoping to have a talk with you on our
last night, for I was feeling rather miserable,

163

kin

Comrades Three !

and I thought that you might be the same, and
glad of my company. But 1 found you asleep.
It was a fine moonlight night, and I was tempted
to go over to the window, where I sat down to
think a bit. I was behind a curtain, and I
suppose I must have fallen asleep, for suddenly
I was awakened by hearing voices — yours and
Crewes's — in the room. He had entered while
I had been sleeping. Of course, my first thought
was to let you know that I was present, but,
before I decided, I had heard too much of what
I was never meant to hear ; so I made up my
mind that it would be kindest for me to remain
hidden, and keep your secret as though it had
been never heard."

"That was awfully decent of you," said
Stewart, at the same time accompanying the
words with an affectionate look at his brother.
•' You see, it would have been harder on Crewes
if he had known that someone else knew of his
trouble."

" But what of you ? It was surely harder upon
you, who had to be his scape-goat ? "

The younger boy shook his head.

**I had — you, and — the mater. He had no
person. When he asked me to go to
Warrington's to pay his bills there, he told me
that he knew he was being watched. Besides, he
said that the love for drink ran in his veins, and
that he would be sure to give in if he went there

164

Dick's Secret

ime, and

asleep.

tempted

down to

and I

uddenly

)urs and

ed while

; thought

ent, but,

of what

e up my

o remain

h it had

)U," said
ying the
brother,
n Crewes
3W of his

'der upon

I had no
go to
told me
jsides, he
eins, and
ent there

himself. He said that his father was a drunkard
— bad deserted him and his mother for years
before she died. He lived with his uncle, you
know, and he told me that his uncle was an
awfully hard man — that he had promised to
drive him out into the streets if ever he was
known to touch drink. So how could I do
anything else than what I did ? "

" He was much older than you. I don't think
he had any right to let you take his disgrace,"
Dick remarked quietly, to which Stewart returned
quickly —

*' If / had been in trouble, would you not have
done the same thing ? "

** Perhaps," replied the elder brother thought-
fully. All the same he felt that his brother had
got hold of the root of true nobility, which is to
suffer for the sake of a friend.

" And you know Crewes promised to stick to
a clean track if I kept his secret. That was
surely worth it all," the younger boy urged as if
some strong excuse were necessary to explain his
conduct. And Dick, in the same quiet tone,
repeated his former thought —

" It was one of the bravest deeds that a fellow
ever did. I only hope that Crewes will keep to
his promise, and not follow the road that his
unfortunate father took. Why, what's the
matter with Reynolds ? "

Dick had suddenly broken off in his speech, for

155

" h

.i^

Comrades Three !

with his closing v/ords the old man had uttered
a gasp of great pain, just as if a knife had been
struck into his flesh a second time.

The brothers hurried to the bedside, and saw
that the white face was drawn and haggard.

" What is it ? Are you suffering ? "

The old man's eyes were shut, but he slowly
opened them and looked at the boys through a
film of agony.

" In great pain — yes ; not of body, but — of
mind — great pain ! "

Dick was readily sympathetic, but he thought
that the speaker s mind must be wandering.

" I am sorry," he said. " But you must try
to rest, and the pain will be less. You have been
badly wounded and need quietness."

"Yes, yes," repeated the old man sadly.
" Badly wounded ; but the wound in my back
is nothing to the wound in my heart. That is
terrible ! It may never — heal — again."

" You mustn't say that," said Dick. " No sore
in the heart is so bad that it never heals. We
know that, my brother and I. Wounds like that
can heal if we try rightly."

The word*^ were spoken kindly and in the tone
of one who is convinced of the truth of that
which he utters. Reynolds felt their strength.
Slowly he opened his eyes again and looked first
in the face of one boy and then in the other. It
was a long questioning look that he gave, as if

166

uttered
lad been

and saw
fard.

le slowly
[hrough a

but — of

3 thought
ring.

must try
have been

m sadly.

my back

That is

" No sore
jals. We
I like that

1 the tone
h of that
strength.
>oked first
Dther. It
;ave, as if

Dick's Secret

he were puzzled by some great problem to which
he yearned to supply the answer.

" Say ! " he said at length. " Who are you ? "

" Friends," answered Stewart readily.

"That I know," said Reynolds quickly.
" But there is something else. I seem to know
your voices. The Cornish ring is there; but
there is something more than that — something
more that reminds me of — other days."

Not following the drift of the questioning,
Dick replied as he would to one whose mind was
wandering.

" Believe me, we are friends, your good friends
who will look after you and see that you need
for nothing that we can do to restore you to
health."

The old man sighed deeply.

" Old Reynolds, the smuggler, has few friends,"
he said mournfully. "He had many — many
good friends — once; true friends they were,
too; but he left them. It can hardly be that
he has any left anywhere, now ! "

Ob, what a pitiful wail there was in the speaker's
voice as he uttered these words so pitifully
eloquent of the lonely life of a man whose wrong-
doing had caused that same loneliness ! Stewart
felt a lump in his throat, and he then did just
what his manly heart prompted him — he knelt by
the side of the bed and let his arms creep to the
old man's shoulders.

167

ix V/

Comrades Three!

*' Don't say that I Don't speak like that I If
you need fripnds we will stick to you in spite of
everything ! "

It was just the right touch of sympathy and
the right tone of affection that was needed to
reach the dark cavern in that lonely old heart
that was now aching with sad memories.

Eeynolds slo^/iy raised his arm and, placing it
behind the boy's head, drew the face downwards
so that he could look closely into the blue eyes
before him.

*' So true ! So full of honour ! " he said,
though the words were evidently spoken to him-
self. "And so you did this for him — you, a boy !
And I, a man, have done nothing I Ah, how the
good suffer for the wicked 1 "

The last words faded into a move whisper,
and the speaker sank back exhausted ?ipon the
pillows.

158

lafc I If
spite of

thy and
feded to
Id heart

acing it
wnwards
lue eyes

he said,

to him-

i, a boy !

how the

whisper,
ipon the

)

CHAPTER XIV.

WOODROW S CLUE.

HAD the circumstances been different, it is
possible that the Edyveans would have
given more heed to Reynolds' remarks. As it
was they attributed the strangeness of them
more to the results of a disturbed brain than to
any other nearer motive. It did not occur to
them then (as it might under different condi-
tions) to seek for any deeper motives. From
the pictures on the walls they had already
gathered that he had some connection with Corn-
wall; from the general surroundings they also con-
jectured that he was a man of taste and educa-
tion. Had they known that he was awake and
listening to their confidences, they might have
had their suspicions aroused. As it was, they
gave very littje consideration to the matter.

Soon afterwards they heard the quick military
step ot the sergeant coming back to the house,
ind in a short time he entered in his usual brisk
manner. There was a look of satisfaction in
his face, and a ring of triumph in his voice
when he spoke.

fili'ii

5> !. ■

Comrades Three !

" IVe fixed up the bronchoes all right in the
stable," he said ; " but I can see no signs of the
youngster. I was half hoping that he would
turn up, as he might have given me a few ideas
to help me on my way. But how's the patient ? "

The officer bent over the bed, and looked
down upon the old man.

" He's better," replied Dick. " He has been
speaking a little, but his mind seems wandering
a bit."

"Not unlikely," returned Woodrow. "After
what he has gone through it's a wonder to me
that he is alive. However, he seems resting
quietly now. I think we'd better go into the
kitchen and shut the door, so that nothing will
disturb him. ^jater on we'll see about trying
to get him to take some nourishment."

Woodrow then led the way into the next
apartment. The brothers followed and closed
the door gently after them. Then Woodrow
turned to them with a smile of triumph.

" You were inclined to doubt me some time
ago when I said that a redskin was at the
bottom of this affair. Well, see the result of
my ins];ection of the stable ! "

As he spoke, the sergeant put his hand into the
breast of his tunic and produced therefrom a large
Indian hunting-knife. It was a murderous-
looking weapon, having a broad blade with two
edges. It was also beautiful, for it had a

160

in the

of the

would

|w ideas

tient ? "

looked

IS been
Indering

"After
to me

resting

nto the

ling will

t trying

ie next
i closed
^oodrow

ne time

at the

?sult of

into the

a large

derous-

ith two

had a

Woodrow's Clue

wonderfully carved ivory handle which was
fancifully decorated with bead and feather work
in the native fashion. But the blade had lost
its lustre. Where it had once shone like
polished silver, it had a dull red stain ; and the
boys involuntarily shuddered as they noted the
tell-tale signs of the attempted murder.

" Ever seen that before ? " exclaimed Woodrow
triumphantly.

But to this question the Edyveans made no
reply.

Yes, they had seen it before. That was why
they were silent. It was not a weapon that
would be easily forgotten even though casually
seen, but when the peculiar form and its
decorations had been indelibly photographed
upon their minds three nights before when
brandished by Black Cloud in his moment of
drunken frenzy, it was unlikely that they would
easily forget it.

Not knowing what reply to give, they said
nothing. Fortunately, Woodrow was too
occupied with his success to note the omission.
He did not wait for an answer.

** Ever seen it before ? " he repeated. " Well,
if you haven't, I have ! But I've seen it in
hands that were famed for their cleanness ; not
for such dirty work as sticking a man in the
back. I had thought at first that it could only
have been some dirty skunk of an outcast red-

161 - .

Comrades Three !

skin. But now I know for certain that even the
blood of a chief is the same blood of a serpent."

It was with the bitterest accents that the
sergeant gave vent to this invective, and to
climax his ut iterances he flung the knife con-
temptuously from him. It turned swiftly in the
air, and then sank quivering and singing into
the wooden wall like an arrow hustled from the
bow.

" See how it simply lives to stab I " the man
exclaimed. " There are some weapons that seem
to have very life in them."

" I guess this one had a lively hand to guide
it," remarked Dick, turning aside from the knife
with disgust.

"Yes, no doubt. Reynolds waf a tough
customer, and had plenty of enemies. I never
heard that he possessed any friends. But even
a thrice-double-dyed villain does not deserve such
treatment as he got."

" I think his worst enemy was himseL," said
Stewart, to which Woodrow returned emphatically :

" He has a worse in — Black Cloud ! and I
guess I'll lay that enemy by the heels when he
least expects it."

The boys exchanged quick glances. They
had equally followed Woodrow's previous hints,
and gathered on whom his suspicions rested ; so
it was no shock to them to find their own ideas
confirmed. At first, of course (as we know),

162

ven the

pent."
lat the

and to

e con-

'' in the

ig into

om the

le man

it seem

) guide
e knife

tough

never

t even

e such

/' said

ically :
and I

en he

'■•ii

They
hints,

1.1

i; so

ideas

Woodrow's Clue

both Dick and Stewart had shared opinions
concerning Pierre's guilt. But the finding of
the hunting-knife seemed to dispel this sugges-
tion, for they recalled seeing the weapon in
Black Cloud's hand ; moreover, they vividly
remembered the scene in Calvert's house when
the Indian had bemoaned the loss of his treasure.
More than likely, they now surmised, his chief
sorrow had been the loss of that which might
identify him with the crime. That would mean
the downfall of the tribe in very truth.

Still, Dick did not find it easy to shake off
first impressions, but in the swift glance that
passed between him and his brother, he
telegraphed silence on that side of the question
for the time being. At least, if that was not
exactly the message, he managed to convey the
suggestion that it would be best to keep their
own counsel.

" How can you be sure that the assassin was
Black Cloud ? " he asked the police officer
cai:*^^i ">asly.

** That knife is its own evidence."

At this Dick smiled a little incredulously.

" But surely the finding of one man's knife
does not necessarily pin the guilt of a crime upon
that person ? "

" Not in all cases, but in this undoubtedly,"
was the answer.

" Such evidence would hardly be sufficient to

163

i|) *i

' i

Comrades Three !

convince me," ventured Stewart, more for some-
thing to say than to carry on such an unpleasant
discussion. And the sergeant replied sharply —

"It is quite enough for me, and it will
be quite enough for you, my friend, when you
have lived longer in the West and know a little
more about Indians. That knife is Black
Cloud's "

" And so ? " interrupted Dick.

" ft was hiif father's, and his father's father's
before him ! Handed down from chief to chief,
it would never be handled by other than a chief
with the owner's knowledge."

" But unknowingly ? " persisted Dick.

** Impossible," was the retort, given with the
slightest degree of impatience that politeness
would permit. " Every brave of the tribe knows
it as well as he knows the face of the chief
himself. A Blackfeet brave would as soon think
of using that knife for his own purposes as he
would of destroying his totem. It would be
sacrilege in either case, and would never enter
his mind."

"But suppose he were to lose it; what
then ? " asked Stewart, referring, in his own
mind and Dick's, to the incident at Calvert's.

" Quite improbable, if not impossible," was the
reception given to this suggestion. " Indians
do not lose things like that ; they are much too
careful. Yes, take my word for it, Black

164

r some-
)leasaDt
arply—
it will
len you
a little
Black

father's
to chief,
1 a chief

vith the
oliteness
)e knows
he chief
m think
es as he
ould be
31 enter

t; what
lis own
jrt's.
was the
Indians
uch too
, Black

Woodrow's Clue

Cloud is the man we want, and the man I'll

find ! "

It was impossible not to feel that there was
something a little unfair in the view that
Woodrow took of the whole matter. Such, at
least, was the Edyveans' opinion. True enough,
the circumstantial evidence seemed strong
against the chief. But police officials are apt
sometimes to jump too hastily to their
conclusions based on such evidence ; the on-
looker does not place much faith in " clues."
Moreover, there seemed to be a. sort of hang-a-
man-without-trying-him flavour in the sergeant's
opinions. Healthy-minded English boys
naturally detest such reckless judgments.
Probably Woodrow would have shared such
thoughts if he had not seen long service in a
Force that must often act upon the flimsiest
evidence, and, in nine cases out of ten, hits each
nail in the head by so doing. But he was a
Sergeant of Police now, and a professional crime-
tracker can no more shake off" his spots than the
leopard.

Such being their convictions, neither of the
brothers ofi'ered further comments concerning
Woodrow's conclusions, and the sergeant himself
changed the topic by suggesting that it was
about time for him to give further attention to
their patient in the next room.

"It is a pity that we cannot move him to

165

H • ,1

i: i

h t ^i

f :'■'

Comrades Three !

Regina," he said. "The man needs hospital
treatment, or, at least, a certain amount of care
that is impossible here. But a thirty-mile drive
over the prairie is out of the question, and the
weather is not by any means the best for such
a purpose."

" I suppose it is not possible for you to remain
with him ? " Stewart said.

"Quite impossible," was the answer. "Of
course if I had come here to arrest him, I could
either remain myself or send to barracks for an
orderly to take my place. But all my intention
was to give the man a warning as to the danger
that his trade incurred — a last warning, for he
has had several before. But he has found out
that danger in another way. Perhaps, if he
lives through it, he may alter his ways. How-
ever, my present business is to lay a trap to
catch the owner of that hunting-knife."

Dick looked around the room while Woodrow
was speaking. It certainly bore more of the
aspect of a lumber-room than that of a living-
room for human beings. Apparently, it had
not been swept for weeks. There was dirt and
neglect in every direction, and a brief glance at
the larder did not discover more than the mere
elements of dietary.

"Not quite a place for an invalid," Stewart
remarked as he followed his brother's scrutiny.
Then, addressing Woodrow, he said : " You think

166

to remain

Woodrow's Clue

it is quite impossible for him to stand the
journey to town ? "

" Absolutely. It would probably kill him.
On arrival he would be put straight into a
mortuary instead of a ward."

A brief silence followed while the boys were
absorbed in thought, and Woodrow was rummag-
ing for suitable dishes in which to prepare some
food for the invalid. Then Dick crossed the
room to his brother's side, and their heads bent
close together in conference. But it was not
long. Certain words such as "Of course,"
" It's the only thing to do," reached the
sergeant's ears, informing him that it was no
debate that was taking place, only a brief
discussion of ways and means.

Woodrow had found the dishes and turned to
take them outside for washing.

" I see you fellows want to talk, so I'll go and
do some housework," he said pleasantly. But
Dick stopped him.

" No, no. We were only talking over one or
two points of an idea. That's over now, an ^
your opinion is necessary."

" And that is ? " asked the officer, half turning,
with a quizzical expression on his face.

" Well — we thought that it might be better
if Keynolds could be taken to our ranch. It's
only three or four miles at the most."

" I knew it I responded Woodrow enthusi-
11 167

Comrades Three !

f:^ 11

astically. " It was just the very thought that
was bound to occur to such decent chaps as
you. But do you think it is quite fair to
yourselves ? "

" It would be a shame to leave him here ! "
returned Stewart hotly, to which Dick added —

" Nor would it be right."

The sergeant smiled appreciatively.

" ¥ew fellows would consider the right or the
wrong in such a case," he said. " The majority
would think of their own comfort first. Of
course, the man is a gentleman by birth."

"And a human being in misfortune," com-
pleted Dick. Then he tried to pass oflf his
generous suggestions by lightuerts. ** We might
require the services of a friend-in-D^eed ourselves
some day ! " he laughed. ** Kirdness is always
a good investment ! "

Of course the boy did not mean anything so
selfish as whs.t his words suggested, and no one
took the words at any but their true value.

" If you have any hopes of getting e^en so
much as thanks for your trouble, you had better
leave him to his fate," Woodrow said hardly.
** Many'have tried their hands at converting him
to better ways, and have very soon given up the
attempts. He returns thanks with curses. I
am afraid he is almost a hopeless case."

But this view of the matter earned Stewart's

scorn.

168

Woodrow's Clue

"One fellow doesn't help another out of a
scrape for the sake of being thanked!" he
exclaimed, and Dick looked sympathetically at
his brother's scornful face, knowing how well
the boy had already proved his creed. But
Woodrow took up the matter in a different way.

" That was not exactly what I meant," he said
seriously. " But I am bound to warn you that
what I did mean was that you might get even
less than thanks — something worse than ordinary
ingratitude."

" In what way ? " asked Stewart.

" Well, you remember your Classics ? You
remember the fable of the Spartan boy who
carried home a half-frozen young fox (or wolf,
I forget which) in his bosom, and the ungrateful
animal repaid the kindness by gnawing the vitals
of his preserver ? It would be a pity if you gave
any fox such a chance."

" I understand," responded Dick. " You fear
that the influence of Reynolds may be evil if we
make him our friend in nursing him ? "

" Exactly.''

" Then," returned Dick with a proud raising
of his head to face the officer — " then set your
mind at ease ! Captain Edyvean's sons have to
live up to the memory of a father who died in
saving the life of a stoker who fell among sharks
in the Indian Ocean. They have also to make a
clean home for the best mother that ever lived !

169

fe li '.

^ i.-" ■;'-.■

J I

ill'

Comrades Three !

No fox has teeth sharp enough to gnaw through
such protection ! "

•' Bravo, lad ! " exclaimed Woodrow. " You
are right — right and solid to the very heart —
both of you ! With such armour, you are proof
against everything. Do as your conscience
bids you ! "

170

CHAPTER XV.

SOME HORSE TALK.

'T'HE sick man was moved that evening to the
Edyveans' ranch, a rude stretcher being
improvised with blankets and poles slung
between two horses, which were led at a slow
pace. A room at the back of the house that
had previously done duty as a combined dairy
and store was quickly converted into a comfort-
able bedroom with the assistance (and, I am
afraid, the disapproval) of Lauder, who remained
until a late hour to give such aid as might be
required of him.

Considering his condition, Reynolds bore the
journey well. Though not unconscious, strictly
speaking, he was too weak to give much
attention to what was going on around him.
He neither expressed agreement nor disapproval
of the arrangements that were being made for
his comfort ; but a short time in clean, fresh
surroundings, together with suitable food, caused
him to exhibit signs of contentment, and
rendereil all more hopeful of a speedy recovery.

After supper, Woodrow announced that he

171

iS ?- ?•

CfmiKdes Three!

must take Luh <i'|>a,rtiare early in the morning.
He agreed to ramaii for the night, camping in
rugs upon a lounge, but he expressed his
intention of going out on duty soon after day-
light.

"Reynolds is in good hands, and has no
further need for me at present," he said.
" Later on I may look him up to get evidence.
Meantime my business is with Black Cloud."

"Are you going to arrest him on no other
evidence but that of the hunting-knife ? " asked
Dick.

To this question the sergeant did not give
immediate reply. He smiled, and shrugged his
shoulders with an air of keeping his own
counbe'

" Well, well," laughed Dick ; " I see you don't
want to speak of your plans. Of that I'm not
altogether sorry, as we are not likely to agree on
the point. However, I hope we shall soon meet
again under more pleasant circumstance's."

" 1 hope so," replied Woodrow earnestly.
" Meantime, I think I'll go out to the stable and
give my broncho a feed, with your permission."

" Certainly," Dick returned. " Stewart will
go with you and show you the corn-bin."

Taking a stable lantern in his hand, Stewart
led the way for Woodrow, who was carrying a
feed-pail.

' "That's a fine fellow — your brother," he

178

Vv.

morning.
|mping in
[eased his
ifter day-
has no
te said,
evidence,
[loud."
no other
?" asked

not give

ugged his

liis own

you don't
it I'm not
> agree on
ioon meet

earnestly,
table and
liasion."

^art will

Stewart
rrying a

lier," he

Some Horse Talk

remarked. The stable had been reached, and
the great broncho had just begun her meal.

" He's the best in the world I " was Stewart's
wholehearted rejoinder. " Every chap in : ic
school used to admire Dick 1 "

*I can understand that," said the man >s ho
nodded approvingly. *' Full of pluck, f^d. ae
to the very core of his heart. He's ju>t the
kind we would like to see in the Force."

The sergeant had spoken in all seriousness,
but Stewart received his suggestion with a
laugh of derision, which, it is to be feared, was
not altogether in good taste, considering the
calling of his guest.

" What ! Dick become a policeman ! Why,
rd just as soon expect to see him become a
highwayman ! "

"There's not much difference," returned
Woodrow dryly. " Both waylay travellers, but
the one makes prisoners of the unoffending ;
the other grabs offendcxS. By the way, talking
of highwaymen reminds me of something else —
not quite the same, but somewhat similar, I mean
horse-thieves. I suppose you haven't had any
dealings with that class since you came out ? "

" As one of them ? "

" Of course not," laughed the sergeant. " I
mean, you haven't been troubled by any — losing
any horses, or such like ? "

Stewart, shook his head.

173

Comrades Three !

" There's little enough to tempt thieves to our
ranch. A few ordinary bronchoes, an old cow
or two, and a dozen or so of hens. These would
be slight return for a raid. We are only
beginners, you know, and beginners in a very
small way."

"I see," Woodrow said quietly. Thon he
added in his peculiarly significant way : " Still,
although only beginners, I see in the second stall
to the right a piece of horse-flesh that would be
worth much trouble if it could be got away
safely."

Quietly as the sergeant spoke, there was some-
thing in the tone of his voice that instantly
roused Stewart's interest.

*' What ! you mean Dandy ? " Then he gave
a slight laugh of derision. *' Why, that's only
another of the 'beginner's' stock. She's a
beauty of her kind, I dare say ; but at the same
time, she's only a present that Calvert gave

me.

But Woodrow held to his opinion stubbornly.

** I don't care whether she's a present or not,
but this I do know, that it will pay you to keep
a good lock on your stable door if you prize the
nag."

** Prize her ! " was the echo. " Of course I do !
I would not part with her for anything. She
was given to me by an old school chum, and "

" And he gave you the pick of his herd — worth

174

Some Horse Talk

seven hundred dollars if she's worth a cent,"
completed Woodrow.

Stewart was dumfounded at this intelligence.
True, even his slight experience of horse-flesh had
told him that his mare was something out of the
common, for her points had at once set her apart
from the others, like a swan among ducklings.
But his knowledge had not been sufficient to
inform him what Calvert knew (and what the
keen eye of the police officer had instantly dis-
covered) — viz., that Dandy was one of three
thoroughbred blood mares — the only three in the
West at that time ; the envy of neighbouring
ranchers, and, incidentally, the well-noted by a
certain set of envious and lawless grabbers.
She might be worth anything, ranging from
seven hundred to a thousand dollars.

'* Seven hundred dollars ! " Stewart echoed,
aghast at the largeness of the sum named.

Woodrow nodded.

"Possibly a thousand; possibly more," he
replied. ** And so, if you take my advice, you'll
have a good lock put on that door without delay.
I don't want to frighten you, and I don't want
to mention names, but this much I may tell
you : I came here this morning intending to kill
two birds with one stone — first, to give
Reynolds a hint for the good of his health ;
second, to scent after little signs in another matter.
Not twenty -five miles north from here there

175

Comrades Three !

is a gang of coons who call themselves * ranchers.'
Well, ranchers they may be, but they have a
strange faculty for increasing their stock just at
a time when some distant homesteader has lost
his I And they are artists at altering brands.
The boss of them can change any into a complex
brand that he has officially registered as his.
However, they are sure to overreach themselves
one of these days. That day will be my chance."

*'And suppose they should try to steal
Pdndy?" asked Stewart in awe. He had not
yet recovered from the shock of learning the
value of his jewel in the stall.

" Keep a gun in a handy pocket, and if you
are sure of your aim, use it . " was the grim
advice. "Well, now, my old mare's finished.
We'll better bid her * Good-night.' Come, Slick,
old girl I There's no use worrying. There isn't
another grain in the pail. You've gobbled the
lot I "

The mare raised her head at the sound of her
master's address, and whinnied a pleasant reply.

" She understands every word I say," said
Woodrow, giving the animal an appreciative
caress. *' Yes, and though she is not human,
she's as good a policeman as any trooper in the
Force. Track ! Why, I tell you what it is : put
her on the scent of a redskin, and she'll follow
his spoor across the prairie with the certainty of
a bloodhound. Well, good-night, old lady ! "

176

ranchers.'
have a
|k just at
has lost
brands,
complex
as his.
lemselves
chance."
to steal
had not
ning the

id if you
the grim

finished,
me, Slick,
here isn't
)bled the

Some Horse Talk

Stewart then took another glance at his prize
before he could tear himself away from the stable.
It was such a revelation to him to find himself
the owner of one of the three coveted treasures
of the West. But at last he was reluctantly
forced to turn away and follow Woodrow, who
was already beyond the stable doors.

" I'll see to getting that lock put on first thing
to-morrow," he said, when he rejoined his
companion.

" You'll be wise not to lose any time about it.
You know the proverb about locking the stable
after the horse has gone," was the policeman's
answer.

td of her
It reply.
ly," said
reciative

human,
T in the

is : put
1 follow
ainty of

ft}

■/..•

177

i!f

CHAPTER XVI.

THE SMUGGLER TURNED MAN.

IN a few days Reynolds had sufficiently recovered
so as to move from his bed and occupy a
chair by the kitchen stove for a time. The
brothers had nursed their guest as tenderly as
any professional from a hospital might have
done — not as expertly, perhaps, but with the
eager kindness that so often teaches ignorance
what is best to be done.

But throughout these days, neither of the
boys had broached the subject of the assault in
the old man's hearing. He, too, by his reticence
had shown reluctance to discuss the matter ; so,
by common courtesy, both Dick and Stewart
respected what was evidently their guest's desire
until he should choose to take the initiative.

During this time no signs were seen of the
boy Arty. On this account they were all
anxiou3. Dick returned to the ravine and
explored it. He found the smoukloriug remains
of a rubbish fire in the yard, which showed that
the lad was somewhere in the vicinity. But, for
some reason of his own, he remained hidden.

178

The Smuggler turned Man

•ecovered
occupy a
ne. The
iderly as
^ht have
with the
gnorance

r of the
3sault in
reticence
titer; so,

Stewart
-'s desire
ive.

of the
''ere all
ne and
remains
ed that
But, for
en.

Of course there was no doubt but that Arty
was well awariB to vvhere Reynolds had gone.
To this the old man himself agreed. If the boy
had not actually viewed the proceedings of
removal from some hidden place of vantage, he
was bushman enough to follow tracks, and would
soon trace the footprints to the Edyvean ranch.

But the chief cause for anxiety was the ques-
tion of food. Dick discovered that the little
that remained in Reynolds' house had been
quickly removed. There was nothing for it but
to keep that store replenished, and wait in
patience until the mysterious boy chose to
reveal himself.

At last he did appear, and that in the dark-
ness of the night. But this is a point of our
story where it will be necessary to slightly
digress, so the reader will pardon a slight
incursion into past history, as such is necessary
to avoid any cloudiness that might otherwise
appear in the aspect of such plot as this story
contains.

Although Arty always spoke to Reynolds as
" Dad," and most of the settlers believed the lad
to be the smuggler's son, it must be understood
that the boy had not a drop of the old man's
blood in his veins.

Reynolds was a strange character, as we have
already seen. He was, in fact, two persons —
one, a money-grabbing smuggler who, under the

179

ii'^!

111! ).ri

Pit!

Comrades Tliree !

influence of drink, would stick at nothing to win
a dollar ; the other, a thorough gentleman who,
when sober, was both kind and noble, as the
following little incident will show.

Some eight or nine years previous to the date
of this story, he had been accustomed to visit a
certain man named Jameson, who lived with his
wife and only child in an out-of-the-way bluff
country known as Last Mountain. Jameson, like
Reynolds, was also an adept smuggler who (again
like Reynolds) had known better days in the Old
Country. But the greed for gold had pretty well
mastered all higher feelings, until he had sank to
the same vicious level as the older man.

On one occasion, when Reynolds was making
one of his business visits, Mrs. Jameson came
running into the shanty where the two men
were sitting, and announced in terror that a
terrific bush fire had started some miles to the
north, and was now racing before the wind
straight towards the homestead.

At such times there is often barely enough
time for the unfortunate settler to snatch up a
few belongings and flee for safety, leaving
property and stock ro their fate. This was one
of these awful occasions. A quick glance out-
side showed the fire blazing away with a roaring
sound like that of a hundred blast-furnaces
carried forward by a hurricane, and the men
immediately made oiOf in the direction of a

The Smuggler turned Man

ploughed field, where they might hope, by the
goodness of Providence, to escape a fearful death.

They nearly reached the spot. Suddenly they
heard a cry behind them. Looking back they
saw Mrs. Jameson standing terror-stricken by
the door of the house. Her hair was dishevelled.
Horror was plainly depicted on her pale face, and
she was waving her arms frantically while she
shrieked in despair —

" Arty ! Arty 1 My boy ! He is lost I He
is in the bush ! He will be burned I "

Now, we do not suppose that Jameson was
really a heartless man. But few men are masters
of their passion at such times as this, and the
terrible vision of the roaring furnace seen through
the trees—the smoke, the fleeing wild animals,
and the general chaos of Nature — probably these
sights unmanned him and robbed him of his
reason. At any rate, not knowing better, let us
be generous and think so, for he only paused a
brief moment and stared with mad eyes at these
dreadful signs of hungry destruction. Then he
gave vent to a wild man's shriek of terror,
turned, and rushed more madly reckless than
before in the direction of the sanctuary he hoped
to reach.

But it was not so with Reynolds. He was at
once dreadfully calm. He ran back quickly to
the house to where the woman was standing and
gripped he: roughly by the arm.

181

Comrades Three !

" Be quiet I " he ordered fiercely. " If you
love your boy and would save him, calm your-
self and tell me quickly and plainly where he
is!"

The bullying tone, and the rough action that
accompanied it, had their eflfect in momentarily
subduing the hysterical woman.

** Over there 1 " she answered, pointing a
shaking arm towards a thick portion of the bush
— right in the teeth of the fire itself. " He went
there to pla)' in the little house he has made."

*• Then follow your husband for your life ! "
Reynolds commanded. "If the boy can be
saved, I can do it better than you, and there is
no need to risk two lives in the attempt. Go I "
And without waiting to see that his order was
obeyed, he darted off in the direction that the
woman had indicated.

And he reached the spot, though not a minute too
soon. He found the child sitting on a stone and
clapping his baby hands with glee in his innocence,
€.s he watched the flames leaping from branch to
branch of the pine trees — not being yet near
eiiO'if^h to cause terror by the heat. Poor baby !
be thought that the whole scene had been
?j rai!;ifed for his amusement.

Then a blast of wind sent the tongues of flame
leaping greedily towards him. Reynolds sprang
for the boy, picked him up, and roughly threw
him down at the leaside of a large log that had

182

\ I

"If you
jalm your-
where he

iction that
omentarily

pointing a
of the bush
" He went
IS made."
vour life ! "
oy can be
nd there is
apt. Go I "
is order was
on that the

a minute too

a stone and

s innocence,

n branch to

ig yet near

Poor baby !

had been

ues of flame
olds sprang
iighly threw
)g that had

'■TIIKN A HI. AST OK WIND SKNT TIIK TONCLKS OK KLA.MK
I.KAl'lNC. CRKK.DILY TOWARDS IIIM."

[p. 182.

':iwwi9iaiBa£stut4A!>;

The Smuggler turned Man

but recently been felled. Immediately he cast
himself at the child's side and pressed the baby
so close to the trunk of the tree that his man's
body protected the frail infant from the outer fire.

And when the cruel blaze had passed, Keynolds
stood up. A few minutes before he had been a
strong man with a flowing black beard and glossy
hair. Now such as remained unscorched was
snow - white with the ageing of *i'Of>e short
moments of unspeakable agony in the loasting
furnace. He had veritably passed at one step
from strong young manhood into old age.

But the child was unhurt.

Though burned and sore, Reynolds carried the
boy through the funereal groves of black ghosts
of trees and over the blacker pall of ruined her-
bage to seek the house. But all they found was
a smoldering pile of wood for a dwelling. The
remains of the poor mother were afterwards dis-
covered but a little way oflF among the old trees.
The father was never found — not even a trace.

Robbed of both parents and home in one hour,
poor little Arty was now as much alone as any
poor bird that the storm has blown upon the face
of the ocean. The fire had also destroyed every
paper by which the boy's relatives might have
been traced in the Old Country. So Reynolds
carried him over miles of prairie to his own home,,
and kept him as his own child. There were few
settlers in the district at the time, and fewer
12 185

Hfl I

Comrades Three !

ever visited Reynolds' house. When they saw a
boy there, as time went on, they never doubted
but that he had always lived in that ravine.
For all they knew or cared Reynolds* wife might
be there as well. The smuggler never spoke
about himself or invited people to enter his
house. Arty Jameson was seen playing about.
The natural inference was that the boy was
*'Arty Reynolds." He called the old man
" dad," and the same old man never saw any
reason for disillusioning those whom the true
lacts did not concern.

And Arty proved to be a precocious imp.
Careless in his habits and without realising the
evil he was doing to the youngster, Reynolds
allowed him to share the risks of the trade that
was their living. So the boy soon became a
knowing creature of the bush and prairie. He
was as expert as any redskin when it came to
recognising or following tracks of beast or man,
and he developed a special talent for scenting
spies or police officers. It was this latter talent
that had made him turn in suspicion upon the
Edyveans when they cornered him that day in
the ravine.

From an eyrie ^ .^h up among the branches
of a tree he had also seen his *' father " being
carried away under the directions of Woodrow
and the brothers. The presence of the former
was full of ill omen to the youngster. He mis-

186

2r saw any
the true

'cious imp.
salising the
', Reynolds
J trade that

became a
Pairie. He
it came to
ist or man,
>r scenting
tter talent

upon the
at day in

■ branches
er " being
Woodrow
le former
He mis-

The Smuggler turned Man

judged that the sound of shots in the stable had
been the result of a fracas with the police, and
that the after-condition of Reynolds was due to
a police bullet. That the old man had been
arrested he had no doubts, and he determined
that the best service he could now do was to
remain hidden and destroy all incriminating
traces of the illegal business before the police
came to take possession of the house and its
contents.

That was the reason why Arty had secreted
himself during these few days. At a distance
he had followed the procession until he learned
whither Reynolds was being conveyed. At
night he crept to the Edyveans' house and spied
through the windows *",o assure himself that the
smuggler still remained in the same place, and
he occupied the days in burying kegs and flagons
until not a trace of the business could be found.
Right in an open (and hence not readily sus-
pected) part of the yard he made the grave of
the trade. Then he burned a heap of rubbish
on the top of the beaten sod, thus effectually
obliterating all traces of his work.
' His duties being ended, the faithful little chap
could not remain away any longer. He was
very fond of the old man and it had been a trial
to him to thus remain so long from the side of
the sufferer. So one midnight he crept as usual
to the window of the room in which Reynolds

187

Comrades Three !

lay. The window was slightly opened ; he
raised it quietly, and as silently as a fox on the
prowl he slipped into the apartment and found
himself close to the man's bed.

It was very dark, but the boy's bush instinct
guided him so as to avoid knocking against any
obstacles.

" Dad ! " he whispered, laying a hand upon the
clothes.

Reynolds had only been slightly dozing and
he instantly awakened.

" Dad I "

"Is that you, Arty?" spoke a voice in an
undertone.

" Yes, it's me. I've come to you now, for I've
fixed up everything at the shanty. There ain't a
cork for the police to find ! "

The old man give a deep sigh.

" Poor laddie ! " he said. " So that is why
you have hidden from us all."

" Of course ! I wasn't going to let them get
the best of us ! " was the stout answer.

Again there was a sigh from the bed, and if
Reynolds' old partners could have heard it they
would have sighed also, though for a different
reason. They would have known that their last
hope of continuing their profitable trade with
such an adept was gone.

** Come here, Arty I Come close to me ; I
want to speak to you," Reynolds then said.

188

Opened ; he

fox on the

land found

|sh instinct
gainst any

upon the

ozing and

'i^e in an

k for I've
ere ain't a

t is why

hem get

1, and if
it they
iifferent
leir last
ie with

me; I
i.

The Smuggler turned Man

The boy obeyed, and, creeping upon the bed,
nestled into the shelter of the man's arm. The
old man winced with pain and gave a slight
exclamation, for the wound in his back was still
tender and the boy had unconsciously hurt it.

Arty started.

" What's wrong, dad ? Did I hurt you ? "

" No, no, boy 1 It was the pleasure of having
you back again."

The boy and the man lay together in silence
for some time. At last the youngster again
spoke in a whisper.

" Say, dad ! Do you reckon you're going to —
to die ? "

" Die ? " Reynolds repeated in surprise.
Then he added soothingly : " No, sonny. I
think not. Why do you ask that ? "

" Oh, only this : I was thinking — if you ain't
dying, it would be kind of nice to be always
away from — well, to be always herCy and not at
the old place."

It was not difficult to understand the boy's
meaning.

"No, I am not dying," Reynolds said. " But
something is dead, Arty. Shall I tell you
what? It is your old *dad' that is dead.
Something that he heard spoken by the kind
friends who saved his life — that 'something'
killed the old ' dad ' and gave you a new one —
quite new ; quite different. Yes," he went on,

189

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TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

2.8

(IT PM

II 2.2

1.8

1.25

1.4

1.6

-^ 6" —

►

Photographic

Sciences
CorporatioR

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

Comrades Three !

%'i <'

" these friends saved my life. They saved me
from wolves that would have killed me when I
lay helpless in the stable — helpless from a
knife-thmst in the back."

"You were — stabbed?" questioned Arty in
awe, as his thoughts now flew back to his
meeting with Pierre.

" Yes ; a coward crept up behind me and gave
a coward's blow. But — well, it was a punish-
ment to me, and a just one."

As Reynolds came to this part of his story,
the boy's frame began to tremble with excite-
ment, and the following words burst out from
his lips.

" Dad ! " he hissed, " I'll kill the coon that
did that ! I know who it was ! I saw him
running dov/n the ravine and there was blood in
his eyes. It ;was — Say ! " The boy stopped
suddenly, and leant a little way from the bed.
" Didn't you hear a noise like someone moving
outside ? "

Both listened quietly for a few minutes.

"Probably a dog, or a stray broncho,"
suggested Reynolds.

" It sounded like a foot," was the verdict of
the boy's better trained ear.

Again both listened, but hearing nothing
further, the man resumed.

" I am glad you stopped, Arty. I, too, know
the hand that struck the blow. If you saw him

190

^ed me

^hen I

fi'om a

Lrty in
'to his

\d gave
►unish-

story,

3xcite-

from

i that
y him
3od in
opped
i bed.
oving

cho,"

3t of

bing

aow
bim

The Smuggler turned Man

I want you to forget it, for I shall never seek
revenge."

*• But he meant to kill you, dad ! " the child
urged in astonishment at this new phase of the
man's character. It was so unlike him to
passively accept a blow.

" I know that. And if he had succeeded, it
would have been just. Now listen to me closely.
You are a little man, you have a man's heart.
Can you keep a secret like a man ? "

"Sure, dad. I guess I've held some secrets
pretty close, haven't' I ? "

" That you have — wrongful ones. But this is
something good — quite different from the others.
Will you keep it ? "

" What do you think ? " was the prompt
answer given in the terse idiom of the West that
thus frames an answer in a question.

" Well," resumed Keynolds, " it's just this :
as soon as I am better, I am going away for a
time. I have work to do in England, and it
must be done without any waiting. You see,
one of the Edyveans who saved my life has had
to suffer terribly through me. He has had his
life disgraced through something he did to help
someone who — well, who might have been
a better boy if I had been a better man. I can't
explain it all to you now. But I am going to
set things right again. To do this, I must go
awav for a few months. I have told the

191

,1!

16 f£

Comrades Three !

i I

V I,

Edyveans that I am going, though I have not
told them the reason. They have promised to
keep you until I return. You will stay 'vith
them, and be good ? "

"Right, dad," answered a trembling voice.
*' It'll be terribly lonesome without you, but I'll
do the straight thing. I promise."

" That's a plucky chap ! And when I come back,
I'll hope to bring another brother to you. Then
we'll start a new farm — the three of us — a proper
farm with more of the — the old things about it."

** Oh, that'll be fine — fine ! " exclaimed Arty
gladly.

" And remember — not a word to anyone
about — the man who stabbed me. When you
are a man you'll understand why."

"I shan't breathe a word," was the boy's
pledge. But, at the same moment, a dark figure
that had been crouching outside the window now
glided away noiselessly into the bush with the
movement of a snake, and an Indian curse was
hissed from between his teeth —

" Spawn of a serpent ! " were the words.
" I reckon, varmint, that you not able breathe
when old man Reynolds go ! A sharp knife in
throat stop spy's tongue from speaking. You
know hand that stab Revnolds ? Huh ! We
see how long you keep that secret ! "

And the speaker who hissed these threats was
Pierre, the ** star cowboy " of Calvert's ranch.

192

^ve not
|ised to

voice.
)ut I'll

back,
Then
proper
ut it."
Arty

Qyone
you

boy's
igure

now
1 the

was

>rds.
ithe
e in
rou
We

t^as

CHAPTER XVII.

HORSE-THIEVES !

VE7HEN morning came, the Edyveans found
that their little household was augmented
by two instead of one as before. But this was
not for long. Reynolds had warned them that
he would not be a lengthy trespasser upon their
kindness. He also threw out certain hints that
his departure would be for England, where his
presence was needed to redeem certain of the
errors of his past life. With this the brothers
had to be contented, but they refused to take
payment for the keep of Arty during the
interval.

" If the kid is not worth his bread and butter,
no money would make him worth the trouble of
looking after," Dick had said. And there the
question was allowed to rest.

As the man recovered health the subject of
his assault naturally cropped up more than once
during the progress of conversation.

Here it was Reynolds who was stubborn.

" There is no need to seek the man, for I know
him. If necessary, I could lay my hands upon

193

■ ! -ii

'j> *'

m-^

Comrades Three !

him within an hour or two. But what is the
need ? The evil that we do always falls back
upon us. That blow was needed to bring about
the events that followed. Without that blow
I might never have known how near I came to
ruining other lives ; I might never have known
how people can sacrifice themselves for others."

As he spoke, Reynolds looked very steadily at
Stewart. But to the boy, the hint was useless.
Not knowing how his confidential conversation
with Dick had been heard by the supposedly
unconscious patient, he was quite ignorant of
any application of Reynolds' words to himself

Then, in a week or tv/o came the old man's
departure. He possessed a few cattle and
horses. These he left in charge of the Edyveans.
He locked up his house, gave the key to Dick,
and afterwards drove in to Regina, — the nearest
station in the C.P.R. And in truth the boys

ere sorry to see him go, for, in spite of what
they had heard of his evil past, they found him
in the present nothing other than a polished and
attractive gentleman.

Stewart in particular had developed consider-
able attachment to the ex-smuggler. The boy's
affectionate and impulsive nature had quickly
responded to the marked kindness that Reynolds
had shown him. Indeed, both the brothers
were genuinely sorry when the hour for parting
came. But Reynolds assured them that it would

194

^il'

is the
•s back
about
ft blow
me to
known
ers."
idiJy at
iseJess.
rsation
>osedly
ant of
iseJf.

man's
3 and
'veans.

Dick,
nearest

bojs

what
i him
i and

lider-

boy's

ickly

lolds

hers

ting

mid

Horse-Thieves !

only be for a few months, adding mysteriously :
" And when I return I think I shall be able to
surprise you more than ever you imagine.
Evil deeds bring their own reward of pain ; but
good deeds, Master Stewart, are bound to bring
great recompense — when we least expect it ! "

A short time afterwards Woodrow suddenly
reappeared at the ranch. Still firm in his con-
viction that Black Cloud had been the assailant,
he now came armed with a warrant for the
Indian's arrest. He had purposely delayed this
final step until such time as he thought Reynolds
would be well enough to give evidence in court.
Great was his chagrin, however, to find that the
chief witness had vanished I Yet the policeman
was not to be balked. His evidence was strong
against Black Cloud, so he promptly made use
of the warrant.

For once, however, it seemed as though the
great Woodrow had leaped the brook before
studying t> e ground on the other side. Black
Cloud firmly denied any knowledge of the matter.
He frankly admitted that the huntmg-knife was
his, but gave the simple explanation that he had
lost it in the bush, and that it had probably been
found by some one else, who had made use of it
in the cowardly way already described. Not
unnaturally this story was scoflted at by most
who were familiar with Indian habits ; and, in
the long run, the whole case against Black

196

Comrades Three !

Cloud fell to the ground. Woodrow was furious,
as might have been expected, and for once
he forgot good taste and respect by announcing
openly in court —

" Black Cloud may get clear now. But my
time is coming when I il lay him by the heels
for this self-same stabbing ! "

And the chief, who was well conversant with
English, replied with dignity as he paused on
his way out of the court —

*' When Black Cloud strikes a coward's blow,
he will need no police to seek him. Black Cloud
will bring his hands to meet your iron chains ! "

As the months went past and the summer
began to draw to a close, the Edyveans had so
far settled down into ranch life that, but for the
presence of Arty, their earlier .'adventures might
have almost been forgotten, rhe boy had proved
quite a success. True to his promise, he was
docile, and soon became a useful member of the
household.

Under the able tuition of Calvert and Lauder
the brothers also began to experience a little of
the sweets of prosperity. The ground was
worked after the manner best suited to the West.
Part of the earlier summer weeks had been spent
with Calvert sharing labour and implements so
as to store sufficient wild hay for each ranch in
anticipation of the long winter. Stewart had
also "gone in " for his incubator, and he was soon

196

[furious,

once
>uncing

^ut my
heels

It with
Jed on

I bJow,

CJoud
nst"

inamer
lad so
or the
might
roved
' was
f the

uder

!e of
was
^est.
)ent
I so
in
lad
►on

;«

Horse-Thieves !

able to supply the household with groceries from
that source of income.

But it is no man's luck always to have steady
bowling so that he can slog to his pleasure and
keep the telegraph busy recording his runs.
There will be breaks or twists to upset the
steadiest eyes and send the balls flying into the
air.

Such was the Edyveans' experience.

Acting upon Calvert's advice the brothers had
invested a little more of their reserve capital in
augmenting their stock with some fifty well-bred
horses. They did this in the sound principle
that it is not good to have all your eggs in one
basket. If crops fail, it is always good to have
stock to fall back upon, and vice versa.

Well, the brothers were jogging along quite
comfortably, and all their prospects seemed to be
as bright as a farmer's prospects ever are, until
one morning they rose up to discover that the
whole fifty of their new stock had vanished —
and Stewart's treasure " Dandy " gone from the
stable as well I

According to Woodrow's advice, a good strong
lock had been put on the stable door, but when
the boy went to feed the mare his dismay was
great, for the entire lock had been cut out of the
door itself, and Dandy was no longer in her
accustomed place.

Poor Stewart was distracted.

197

I III

'il

'i 'Si in ; ^1

1 1

m.^fi

13' h'

Comrades Three !

On his brother's horse he scampered off to
Calvert for advice. But there he found con-
sternation equal to his own, for the pick of
Calvert's herd had also vanished in the same
night.

Fred was no coward, however. He immedi-
ately saddled a broncho and started oflf with
Pierre to track the missing herd, while Stewart
returned crestfallen to his bruther. The track-
ing proved to be an easy matter, for the dew had
been heavy, ar \ the imprint of hoofs was plainly
marked.

Pierre led the way at a canter, and it was not
long before Calvert and he found themselves
on the borders of a ranch kept by a man named
Riddell — a Westerner, who enjoyed an evil
reputation, together with a band of cowboys
as bad as himself.

When the house was reached, and their errand
explained, Jake Riddell was all sympathy.

** Lost a bunch of bronchoes, eh ? Well, now,
that's just what I call mighty hard luck."

" It would be hard luck in the ordinary way,"
said CpJvert, who thought it best to let his
suspicions be known without making a direct
accusation. " In this case, however, I don't
suppose it need worry us very much since we
have tracked the animals here, and no doubt
they have got mixed up with your herds."

" No doubt," replied Jake with a leering smile.

198

off to

id COD-

pick of
'6 same

mmedi-
ff with
tewart
' track-
ew had
plainly

v^as not
Qselves
named
n evil

>wboys

errand

I now,

svay,"
fc his
lirect
ion't
3 we
oubt

Qile.

Horse-Thieves !

•'Then your critturs are easily found. Say,
boys ! (turning to the cowboys who were stand-
ing grinning near by) " seen any stray bronchoes
while you were rounding-up this morning ? "

*' Nary a one ! " was the prompt answer
from the tough-looking cowboy. Then he turned
to Fred with a self-confident smile : '* P'raps
Mister Calvert and his friend would like to have
a look around to make sure for himself. But
I reckon he^ll see no brands hut the Riddell
brands on any horseflesh on this ranch."

Then Calvert's heart sank. He had lost no
time in travelling when his loss became known ;
but, quick though he was, the Riddells had been
quicker. By this time his registered brand had
been dexterously cooked to that of the cunningcst
of horse-thieves, and Fred knew well that it
would be a hopeless task trying to claim his
own animals, even though he could easily identify
them. Riddell would stick to all that carried
his brand. To recover them would need the
assistance of police. Even then experience has
proved that the smart thief usually gets the
best of the contest.

So, rather than show fight for the present,
Calvert considered it wisest to make a pretence
of being successfully outwitted until he could
think of a feasible scheme by which to trap his
enemy. He sensibly considered that it would
throw Riddell off his guard if the impression

Comrades Three !

were given that a voim™ p i- i

fooled. ^°""S Englishman is easily

of "oZ°trisr'12 f r y°" «y« over any
politeness. ' ^""^ "^ed with forced

would Lve^beer"! °^r"'='>"«e. They
strangers." "^^ *° ''^^e noticed any

"Certain!" wa<i th^

"They have eyerall tundT*" . T'"''--
they miss nothing SHI? ." ^'"'^'' ^^^
have a look round "■ ' ^""''^ '^^^'^^'ne to

the'simt" said'Sverl '"'n/l/'u' *''^"'^« «"
not here, no doubt th«,. bronchoes are

less time Pierre and I wLel"\f" "^^ ^'^^
track the sooner we'll Shll^'"""^ "^ ^'^^^

"Anflt/eTe^t'tilt ^"^"-*-^«^ ^iddell.
you'll look us un S ^° '' P"'^'°g *his way
at this ranch" ^' ''""^^'^ ^'' '^^^Y^ welcome

"Any particular brant9 nf „*
preferable to another r^rll "^ '*''»"gers more
replying as a partSnJ shot "* '"'"'^ ""' "^^'P

"po^Ss'l^ttrhftuSt'rr^
otht^Jrm~---tttu%tSb!;:5

But Calvert met the look with an even

200 ^"

^^^mmSmSSSSXSSm

Horse-Thieves I

smile that neither repudiated nor gave him
away.

" Any brand that knows its own business and
minds it is never objected to," was the ominous
reply.

"Then the sooner I toddle off the better,"
concluded Calvert airily. "As you can guess,
I'm full of my own business this morning —
and always like to do everything thoroughly.
Ta-ta ! "

" So-long," growled Riddell with little grace.

201

CHAPTER XVIII.

STEWARTS GENIUS.

¥ SAVING the nest of the horse-thieves,
^ Calvert and Pierre rode straight to the
Edyveans' ranch, there tv< report their lack of
success.

Naturally the brothers were considerably dis
appointed, and not a little dejected, for they
could ill afford such a loss as this entailed. For
Stewart's sake, however, Dick tried to assume a
hoper^l view, and turn a brave face upon the
misfortune. When the occurrence was reported
to the police, he said, those who were accustomed
to dealing with criminals of this class would
probably know how to settle this matter, and no
doubt all would come right in the end.

To Stewart, the loss of Dandy was a terrible
blow, for he valued the animal so highly on
account of its real worth as a possession, and
also on account of the giver. It seemed to be
the worst of ill-luck. Besides, this was the
second horse that he had lost in a few months.

So great was the younger brother's distress,
that Dick was moved to propose an instant

202

rsss:

Stewart's Genius

expedition to Riddell's ranch in order to make
any offer for the return of the one animal at least.

But Calvert, supported by Pierre, voted this
course as hopeless.

" It would be quite useless, old man," said the
former. "The reputation of Riddell is well
known. He and his gang are probably the last
of the horse-thieves in this part of the West.
Being the last, they apparently do their best to
become the worst. Certainly they are as cute as
foxes. Most of the settlers for a hundred or so
of miles around have had to suffer at their hands
at one time or other. No one has ever yet been
able to recover their property."

"But if the settlers were to go in a body,
could they not force them to give up the stolen
animals ? " questioned Dick.

Calvert shook his head.

" I am afraid not. You see, so long as the
law cannot get at them, the law will protect
them. Horses are difficult to identify. One
rancher may have animals exactly the same as
another. It is only by brands that you can
prove a case ; and if you cannot actually prove
that brands have been altered (mighty difficult
when dealing with Riddell !), or prove, by
witnesses, that a theft took place, it would be
waste time to try."

" What about police ? " said Dick.

" Riddell can outwit the best of them. I don't

203

Comrades Three !

want to throw cold water, but unless we can nail
these fellows by strategy, no police can do it by
force. They are a set of foxes, and cleverer than
any foxes I ever came across."

During this discussion, Stewart had relapsed
into thoughtfulness. He had not lost a single
word of what had been said, but all the time his
dauntless will had been seeking for some plan by
which to regain his property. It is against an
English boy's nature to be cheated, and then
remain humbly inactive. A healthy-minded lad
feels that he must come out top, and six times
out of seven he does, providing the cause be a
just one.

Many plans cropped up, but each one seemed
to have some weak point about it. He was
getting a little hopeless after all. Then Calvert
used the simile of ** foxes." That word flashed
a new and daring idea into his mind.

" Foxes ! " he exclaimed in excited tones.

" That'p what they are," returned Fred. " And
they're the most cunning in the West."

" Yet — foxes are caught in traps, are they not
— even the cunning ones ? " asked Stewart.

" Why, certainly," replied Calvert with a smile,
not seeing the drift of Stewart's questioning.
"Traps are used unless we shoot them. But
the former is the surer method."

Immediately Stewart started up with excite-
ment.

204

Stewart's Genius

"Then traps must be used for these foxes!
I can see it quite plainly, and if you'll follow my
plans, I believe we can outwit these vermin, cute
though they think themselves ! "

"A case of Jack- the- Giant-Killer, eh?"
remarked Dick with amusement. It was not
possible to receive his brother's enthusiasm with
the same seriousness as that in which it was
expressed. What could one boy, or even three,
do to contend with those who had proved equal
to the wits of every rancher in the district ?

But Stewart was not easily subdued by a little
chaffing when once he had an idea fixed in his
head.

'* You listen to me," he said, " and if my plan
isn't a trap with teeth that will grip and hold
on as well as the best steel ever made — well,
I'll eat my hat ! "

In a few rapidly whispered sentences the
scheme was revealed. At first the listeners
attended with simple amusement to what would
probably prove to be but a wild-cat scheme.
But as the plot was unfolded, gradually their
attention of politeness increased to the utmost
interest, untU, when the conclusion was reached,
their enthusiasm was equal to Stewart's own.

" By Jove ! You're a perfect genius, old man ! "
exclaimed Dick, jumping up and giving his
brother a hearty slap on the back.

" He's got the brains of the wiliest old trapper

205

U ::'i:-

:^'i'f''l'

1 1 <t

hi \

Comrades Three !

that ever laid snares in the backwoods ! " added
Calvert, with no less hearty appreciation.

Stewart received these compliments with
becoming modesty.

** Common sense is a rare virtue — yet it is
sometimes found."

" You are indeed one of the rarities ! " returned
Calvert, laughing. Then he added seriously :
" But do you think you could really undertake
the risk ? It's worth trying, but at the same
time it is a risk. If you were found out, the
Riddells would not be over-kind to the chap who
tried to fool them."

" I'm going to get back Dandy, and be even
with these foxes ! " was Stewart's dogged reply.

206

•'" added
fen.

mis with
■yet it is

' returned
seriousJy ;

undertake

the same

^ out, the

chap who

be even
5d reply.

CHAPTER XIX.

TRAPPED I

/^NE sunny afternoon, about two weeks follow-
^^ ing the events described in the preceding
chapter, Jake Riddell and several of his cowboys
were sitting on logs in front of the house,
smoking and yarning in the lazy manner of those
who work by fits and starts, and who are seldom
thoroughly so energetic as after dark, when their
purposes are evil.

Jake had three strong supporters. Two of
these were Seth Scott and Rob Harley, each of
them a reckless rough-rider of the most daring
type ; the third was Kit Shanner, an old Indian
tracker nick-named *' Daisy Bell," probably as a
sarcastic allusion to his shaggy black hair and
generally uncouth appearance.

On this occasion, the talk had become pretty
general and uninteresting, until suddenly their
attention was directed to a common centre by
Daisy.

" Great Scott ! What in all creation is that
ere coming up the trail ? "

" It's nobody belonging to these parts," com-

207

)

Comrades Three !

mented Seth. "The broncho that the coon's
riding looks as if it ought to be carried on a
stretcher instead of holding up all them trap-
pings."

" Whoever he is, he's not been long out of a
band-box," rejoined Daisy. " The saddle's new ;
the lines is new ; the lariat's new ; hat new ;
shirt new ; straps new ; gun-cases new — all new
and yellow, except the kid. He's bright green,
I reckon I "

Further comment was curtailed by the arrival
of the stranger himself, who by this time had
ridden up to the door.

Truly he was an object for criticism ! The
broncho that he bestrode looked as it it were
longing to lean up against the nearest tree and
dream of its distant childhood, whilst the rider
himself looked too young to have any past to
dream about. He was fair-haired, blue-eyed,
and high-collared. His whole aspect betokened
one who had arrayed himself in the attire of the
" bold bad cowboy," peculiar to a Penny Dread-
ful.

His arrival was greeted by a burst of laughter
from the lungs of the four onlookers ; but when
he descended from his charger on the " off " side
(thereby nearly spiking old Jake's eye with the
wheel of an enormous Mexican sp«.:r), the
ranchers (Jake being excepted) fairly rolled about
and held their sides with laughter.

208

Trapped!

But the stranger never smiled. He merely
opened his blue eyes with wonder as he regarded
the contortions of the cowboys.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, if I intrude," he
began mildly, "but do you know of any
restaurant where I can obtain a little lunch.
I have had quite a long ride to-day, and my
horse and I are both a little exhausted. We
need something to support us on a day like this."

" Seems to me, kiddie, that ere broncho of
jT^ours needs nothing to support him so much as
a clothes-prop ! " laughed Harley.

" I dare say you are right," replied the youth,
after giving a slight scrutiny to the drooping
animal. "He does not look quite as fresh
as "

" His owner 1 " completed Daisy.

Here Riddell remarked with an exaggerated
air of politeness —

" There ain't no eating-houses in these parts,
but if your pleasure is to rest in our humble
mansion, I guess we can raise a tub of hog-feed
for both you and that thoroughbred of yours."

" Thanks, awfully," replied the youth, quite
unconscious of the chaff. " I am not yet fully
familiar with the dishes of your country, as I
have but recently come from England; but I
have no doubt hog-feed is one of your favourite
dishes, and what's good enough for you is good
enough for me."

209

Comrades Three !

Did he understand the sarcasm of his answer ?
Evidently that was the thought that flashed
through the minds of the cowboys, judging by
the quick glances of suspicion that were flashed
upon him. But his following remarks quickly
dispelled distrust.

" If you will kindly show me to a bedroom
where I can wash my hands, I will gladly join
you in the dining-room as soon as possible."

Well, even the roughest Westerners are seldom
inhospitable to hungry strangers, and the love
for coarse teasing did not prevent Riddell's crew
from placing before their guest as good a meal as
their resources allowed. But while the youth
was eating, they sat around and poured out a
volley of chaff regarding the peculiarities of their
guest ; yet he was not quite a fool, as the
following incident will show.

" By the way," said Jake at the close of the
meal, " I guess you haven't told us your name
yet!"

" Like as not it will be something pretty, such
as Mary, or Floss, or Fluff," suggested Scott.

** Oh, no ! " replied the youth airily, and with a
patronising smile. " You are not at all good at
guessing. My name belongs to one of the oldest
English families — * William Algernon Marma-
duke 1 ' But mother simply calls me ' Willie.' "

" Oh, your mother simply calls you Willie,
does she?" echoed Daisy with a nasty sneer.

210

\m^

answer ?

[t flashed

(dging by

ce flashed

quickly

bedroom

^^^^y join
»Je."

■e seldom
the Jove
eJJ's crew
i meal as
le youth
ed out a
8 of their
. as the

e of the
^r name

fcy, such
:ott.

I with a
e^ood at
5 oldest
^arma-
Ilie.' "

Willie,
sneer.

Trapped !

"Then all I can say is, that the mother who
called you such a slushy name must have been
about as queer in the head as her son ! "

The cowboy spoke in about as vilely sneering
a tone as it was possible for a man to use. It
was not possible that such could fail to penetrate
even the thick skin of a tenderfoot. Even
Daisy's comrades respected the names of
" woman " and " mother." Few men ever sink
so low as to scoflf at these ; and a murmur of dis-
approval rose when they heard the gibe, and saw
how the boy's face flushed.

But although it takes some time to describe
the circumstances, the words had hardly passed
the speaker's mouth when the youth rose sharply
from his chair, and stepped quickly to where
Daisy was lolling on a bench, with his feet on the
table.

Then followed the rapid flash of a right arm,
and a closed fist met the cowboy's temple so
firmly that the hulking coward rolled to the
ground like a felled ox. It was all done in a
moment, and immediately afterwards the boy
was back in his seat unconcernedly admiring his
new top-boots and spurs.

"Bravo, Marmalade!" ejaculated Jake, as
Daisy sat up and began to rub his eye and look
around as if wondering from whence had come
that baby thunderbolt. *' Serve you right, Daisy,
say I ! And what's more, I'll not have you trying

213

Comrades Three !

Sii* & ^^.

m\^'^

|Vh s

'it

-.1 -h

to pay back any of that score. It was well
earned."

So Daisy was forced to pocket his humiliation
and retire sulkily to a corner and his pipe.

When the excitement of this little incident
had subsided, conversation once more turned
upon more general topics.

Then, somehow or other, it leaked out that
Willie had passed the previous night with the
Edyveans. This information proved of deep
interest to the ranchers.

"You've been with the Edyveans, have you ?"
queried Jake. " Now what sort of coons are
they? Did you hear them say anything nice
about their dear friend, Riddell ? Great chums
are the Edyveans and Riddell, you know."

" I did hear something said about him," replied
Willie thoughtfully. "They praised Riddell
very highly."

" Come, that's good news ! " resumed the
rancher in glee at the success of his ragging. " I
reckon this is mighty interesting. Now, come,
tell me what it was they said so particularly nice.
I'm a — a great friend of Mister Jake Riddell, and
it would please me down to the ground to
hear the nice things the Edyveans said about
him."

Willie was not unwilling to repeat the
conversation.

" They said," he began slowly, as he carefully

214

was well

^miliatiou
)e.

incident
turned

[out that

^ith the

of deep

e you ? "
)ons are
ing nice
t chums

, »

' replied
BiddeJl

3d the
g- "I
come,
y nice.
iiy and
nd to
about

the

fully

Trapped !

selected a mild cigarette from a silver case and
fixed it in a dainty holder — " they said (if my
memory serves me) that Jake Riddell was the
finest horse-thief in the North-West, and
that, if he got justice, he would one day prove
an ornament at a neck- tie party ! " ''^

The result of this little story was electrical.
With a furious oath Jake sprang to his feet.
He was white with passion.

" What ! They said that, did they ? Called
me a * horse-thief ' ! The skunks ! I'll teach
these Edyveans to gas like that about their
betters. Look here, Innocence — I'm Jake Riddell,
and before the Edjrveans re a day older, I wont
leave so much as a ghost of a broncho on their
blamed homestead. * Neck- tie party,' indeed !
I'll make a party that'll clear every living creature
from their ranch, and leave them stark naked
for stock — and don't you forget it ! "

"I am afraid you will find that rather
difficult," remarked the youth. " I heard them
say that they were going to brand all their
stock to-day, and keep a special lookout for
trouble.'*

" And they'll find trouble sooner than they
expect," Riddell retorted gruffly. " Brand or no
brand, lookout or no lookout — I know a trick
worth two or three of theirs. If I don't have
everyone of their cattle in my corral, with the

* Hanging^by " lynch law."
215

i(i

fcl^l

.^1.

t. ■

.'I t

T-1ill

Comrades Three !

brands altered so as to be unrecognisable before
morning, you may call me a Dutchman I "

At hearing this threat, Willie sat open-
mouthed with admiration.

" What ripping fun that will be ! " he exclaimed.
** Now I would just love to be one of you, don't
you know? — to go ridingabout, lassoing bronchoes,
firing revolvers, and — and all that sort of thing.
I always used to tell them at home that there
would be no holding me once I got into the
West. It's just the life I'm cut out for "

" Barring sucking a bottle of milk ! " inter-
rupted Harley contemptuously. •* But we don't
want any babies with us "

" Yes, we do — in this case," snapped Riddell.
" We'll take him with us to-night just to show
the Edyveans that they need be more careful in
future how they talk with strangers about
respectable neighbours. And I'll make him my
special charge in the raid."

Well, the upshot was that, shortly after
midnight, a party of five riders descended under
the cloak of darkness from the wooded side of
the Edyveans' ranch to where the balance of the
young ranchers' herd was quietly resting after
having been bunched by Dick.

On reaching the outskirts of the homestead, a
halt was made while the riders fitted felt pads to
the feet of their steeds so as to reduce to a
minimum the sound of their approach, and also

216

^ble before
I"

Jat open-

^xcJaimed.
^ou, don't
|>rorichoes,
of thing.
;hat there

into the
>>

^" inter-
ne don't

RiddeJI.

to show
areful in
8 about
bina my

fy after
d under
side of
J of the
g after

tead, a
•ads to
* to a
i also

Trapped !

to avoid making such imprints on the ground as
might be afterwards noted and identified by an
experienced tracker.

Then the riders spread themselves in three
directions, forming the three points of a triangle.
This was their customary mode of campaign, as
it anticipated the possibility of theii prey
stampeding in any undesired direction, while at
the same time it permitted gently closing upon
the victims so as to be conveniently driven in a
northerly course between the two wings.

So far all had gone well. Willie had been
kept under Riddell's own guardianship at one
wing ; Scott and Harley had gone to the other ;
while Daisy occupied himself in setting the herd
in motion at the rear point.

" I only wish my people at home could see me
now!" Willie proudly exclaimed to his
guardian. He was glorying in the expedition
just as a little boy glories in playing at being a
pirate king.

" I'd advise you to keep your jaw shut, or if
you have to speak, do it quietly," was the
growled answer. " If you give us away by
cackling too loud, I reckon there'll be precious
little chance of your people ever seeing you here
or any other place. And don't you be going
and getting scared — or crying out, perhaps.
We don't want to run more risks than we have
Jo."

217

il t

UK li'i^^^

- 4

, *

,! il

:!■ I

vri

Comrades Three !

But the youth was seemingly in nowise
likely to show the white feather.

" Scared ! Cry out 1 " he echoed. *' Whatever
makes you think I should be frightened?
Besides, what need for fear when I have my
trusty revolver at my side ? " And from its
stiff, new leather case the bold speaker produced
a large silver-plated weapon that shone like a
lamp even in that pitchy darkness.

" Come, Marmalade ! Chuck that coon's talk,
and stick that toy back in its cradle ! " growled
Kiddell impatiently. " This is time for work, not
for fooling. And I hear the boys bringing up
the horses now ; so keep your eyes skinned and
ride close to me, you young idiot 1 "

Poor Willie seemed amazed at the snubs he
was now receiving.

" Why, what on earth have I done now ? "
he asked in surprised distress. ** Don't you also
carry a revolver with you for protection at such
a dangerous time as this ? "

"Not a bit of me," was the reply. "My
broncho's slick legs are all the protection /
need."

" Are they ? " questioned the youth with faint
sarcasm. " Then " (and he edged his horse close
alongside the " slick " one, while his voice
suddenly lost its mincing tones and became firm
and clear), "then, if your broncho is all the
protection you neea, see how you'll get out of

218

m nowise

Whatever
ghtened ?
iiave my
from its
produced
ne like a

on s talk,
' growled
^ork, not
^ging up
ned and

inubs he

now ? "

you also

at such

"My
3tion /

h faint
ie close
voice
le firm
II the
out of

Trapped !

this difficulty I Hands up, Riddell, or I'll shoot
you where you sit ! "

And when the rancher turned to inquire the
meaning of this new freak on the part of the
tenderfoot, he found that he was staring into the
business end of Willie's glittering "toy" — held
in a hand as firm and steady as a vice.

" Hands up, you vile horse-thief, for the last
time!"

Up went the man's hands like a shot. At the
same instant Stewart (for, of course, the reader
has long since recognised him) blew a shrill
whistle that was immediately answered from the
bush near at hand.

Then another voice rang out sharply in the
darkness.

" Hands up, Daisy, and the rest of you ! You
are surrounded by armed men like rats in
a trap and covered by the best rifles in the
West. Move an inch until we have the shackles
on you, and you'll never move again till you're
carried. You know me — Sergeant Woodrow ;
and you know that what I say I'll do ! "

That was all.

Caught in the very act of stealing by Stewart's
cleverly planned trap, Riddell and his friends
were soon secured and under escort for Regina
gaol.

Law moves quickly in the West where cases
are few and judges rusting. Within a week, the
14 219

\r::.-:. k\

•i

Hi-'

'I I

•^ ?

;i. ■ !<

■I

Ji Pi

IVI

i: i r- ;

ill

Comrades Three !

last of the horse-thieves were committed for
long terms to Stoney Mountain. Daisy, however,
had his term curtailed by turning King's
evidence, thus enabling many of the settlers to
regain their lost property, and Dandy was once
more restored to her accustomed stall.

220

nitted for
, however,
g King's
settlers to
T was once

CHAPTER XX.

m\:

THE BLIZZARD.

i^WING to the excellent coaching given by
^^ Calvert and Lauder, the Edyveans were
soon able to avoid many of the causes that had
been retarding their success, and as autumn
proceeded the brothers began to have their aflfairs
in such order that they could look forward to
spring with considerable hope. The " fall "-
ploughed ground was ready for spring back-
setting, the vegetable garden had been carefully
prepared so that a succession of the fruits of the
earth could be commenced as soon as the
intervening winter had passed. So now they
were cheerful as could be, and were only
anxious for the time to come when they would
certainly see the first-fruits of their judicious
labour.

True to his ** dad's " wishes and the promise
given, Arty Reynolds had quickly become a docile
member of the household. Naturally there were
several breakings-out. A sparrow takes some
time to become accustomed to the restraints of
a cage, though in time it may forget the old wild

221

^' '

v iJ

t. • ?J

I i

Comrades Three!

freedom, and really enjoy the tamer life. But,
from the very first, Arty showed himself anxious
to be of use, and quick to copy the manners and
speech of his elders. Thus he speedily became
a favourite with both Dick and Stewart, and was
regarded as much a part of the establishment as
they were themselves.

Then the winter began to close in, casting its
great white blanket over prairie, valley, and
woodland. At this time the days were chiefly
occupied with felling trees for firing and build-
ing purposes during winter and the following
summer. It was a little spell of peaceful, happy
work after a series of more or less exciting
adventures.

But frontier life in the West is seldom without
its excitements recurring at intervals to colour
what might be otherwise a somewhat monotonous
life, and our Dunmere heroes found their experi-
ence no exception to the rule.

There are three kinds of adventures in life :
those that we seek ; those that we meet without
seeking ; and those that are purposely thrust
upon us. Hitherto, tne Edyveans had mostly
experienced the two former. What led to the
incidents that close a period of their life and
complete our present story were purely the last-
named.

One afternoon early in December, when the
weather was already bitterly cold, a certain

838

I life. But,
3lf anxious
mners and
|ly became
ft, and was
fshment as

3asting its
lley, and
ere chiefly
md build-
following
ful, happy

exciting

m without

to colour

onotonous

Bir experi-

is in life :
it without
ly thrust
d mostly
id to the
life and
the last-

i^hen the
certain

The Blizzard

young Indian stranger called at the ranch. He
spoke English fairly well, and intimated that
Fred Calvert wanted the brothers to visit him for
a day or two of hunting, as he had seen many
antelopes in the district of his ranch.

It seemed rather strange to Dick's mind that
his friend should not have written a letter instead
of sending a verbal message ; but Calvert had
spoken quite recently about the possibilities of
some deer- shooting, and so Dick did not give the
omission more than passing thought.

Unfortunately, however, Stewart was just
recovering from a severe cold at the time, and
would consequently be unable to join any such
expedition. For this reason the elder brother
immediately announced his intention of refusing
the invitation.

But Stewart would not hear of this sacri-
fice.

"Not likely!" he said. "Why should you
not have a good time just because I happen to
have a bit of a cold ? "

" It might get worse. Colds are stubborn
things "

" And so are some brothers ! " returned Stewart.
*' No, no, Dick ! Off you go ! Have a good
time, and I'll be all right here for a day
or two with Arty to look after me. You'll
see that I don't freeze to death, won't you,
kid ? "

223 .

'1. )■ ■
M ■

:H:|':

rs.' ,{.>'

tv^

Comrades Three !

" You bet ! " answered the youngster enthusi-
astically. ** Stewart and I will be as right as
rain ! "

So earnestly did they urge that Dick was at
last persuaded to follow the Indian, who had
ridden off immediately after delivering his
message.

" Well, well, I suppose, if you put it like that
I must go ! "

"'Course you must!" said Arty with deci-
sion.

"But there's one thing, Stewart," resumed
Dick. " I think you ought to change into the
room that Arty sleeps in, and let him have
yours. You see, I have kept the stove
burning in your room since you were ill,
but the kid might sleep too heavily. The
kitchen - stove pipe goes through the other
room, so you would be fixed all right for
warmth."

" Right you are 1 " responded Stewart cheer-
fully. "For my part, I think my cold's quite
gone. But I'll sleep in the stable if it will set
your mind at ease."

" No need for that. A simple change of bed-
room will do for the present ! " Dick returned
with a laugh.

Thus the question was settled.

Putting on his furs, while Arty went to hitch-
up Bess in the jumper-sleigh, with a plentiful

224

The Blizzard

\r enthusi-
right as

|ck was at

who had

|ering his

like that
i^ith deci-

resumed
into the
lim have
le stove
were ill,

[y. The
lie other
fight for

't cheer-
I's quite
will set

of bed-
eturned

) hitch-
[entiful

•^ '^

supply of hay to keep the traveller's feet warm,
Dick was soon ready for his expedition. A rifle
and shot-gun were also stowed away among the
rugs by Stewart, and soon the elder brother was
slipping along the trail to the merry music of
jingling bells.

During the first half-hour of the journey, Dick
found the road in moderate condition, and made
fair time. The broncho stepped out well, and
the driver's heart was bright with the sunshine
of the day ^nd the happy thoughts of anticipated
sport.

After a time, however, it was found that the
snow had drifted so deeply at a narrow part of
the valley that the ordinary trail was impassable
for driving purposes. A rider might cross the
crevasses and slopes, but with a sleigh it was out
of the question. Luckily, the Qu'appelle River
that follows the bed of the valley is heavily
wooded on either bank, thus preventing the snow
from drifting to any extent upon the ice. Dick's
ready resource decided that this would provide an
excellent road for the rest of the journey, so he
turned his broncho in the direction of a con-
venient " crossing," and was soon jogging along
contentedly on a level path in a fairyland avenue
of snowladen boughs.

For some time he proceeded in comfort, meet-
ing only an occasional wolf and a few prairie
chickens. He congratulated himself upon the

225

Comrades Three !

Pv •

- 'r
i*^. I' !

happy thought that had defied the snow-drifts
of the upper trail.

Then, with the awful swiftness with which the
winter climate of the West suddenly changes
from smiles to anger, a cold blast of wind came
sweeping round a bend of the river, driving a
cloud of powdered snow before it in the travel-
ler's face. At the same time a hissing sound as
of escaping steam was heard in the distance com-
ing swiftly nearer and nearer, louder and louder.
And in the next moment — barely before the
dread signs could be recognised — Dick found
himself surrounded by a wild, shrieking blizzard
that rendered the atmosphere as cold as the
Arctic and as opaque as stone.

Had Edyvean been more familiar with the
fickle features of the Canadian winter, he would
long before have noticed the "sun-dogs" and
other premonitory signs of an approaching
tempest, and thus avoided the ran -her's greatest
dread : being trapped by a blizzard. As it was
he could only submit to the results of his ignor-
ance, and try to push onward.

For a little while he continued to drive, but
the storm increased in strength and fury until
Bess became unwilling to face the blinding snow.
Dick was then obliged to get out and lead the
animal and endeavour (not often successfully) to
keep to the centre of the river beyond the reach
of overhanging branches.

226

:U 1

The Blizzard

[ow-drifts

^hich the
changes
pd came
hiving a
|e travel-
Jound as

ce com-
i louder.
!bre the
f found
blizzard

as the

ith the
e would
s" and
oaching
greatest
5 it was
I ignor-

ve, but
y until
f snow,
id the
Ily) to

reach

(

But what had begun as a pleasant trip had now
evolved into a weary trudge. It was impossible
to make much headway, for the wind stole the
youth's breath, and progress could only be made
after frequent rests. The snow at such times
stings the face and eyes like the points of needles,
and filters through every crevice of clothing ;
so Dick's plight may be better imagined than
described.

For two or three hours he plodded on. As
the crow flies, the road to Calvert's ranch was
not great, but the Qu'appelle River is |.eculiarly
serpentine and often lengthens a direct mile into
two or three. Dick had not realised this when
he took to the ice, but he persevered bravely.
Then night came on to add to the painfulness of
the position. By that time he felt sure that he
must be near the "crossing" that led up to
I the plain below Calvert's ranch. He stopped
several times to investigate the bank, but
40 sign of a trail could he find. Indeed it
\fas almost a hopeless task under such con-
ditions.

On the wanderer went again, though now he
A/fas beginning to drag his feet, and often stumbled
with simple exhaustion. Yet he did not give in.
He turned once more to explore the river bank.
He was not more successful in finding what he
sought for, but this time he discovered what was
perhaps better considering his present condition

817

R«MWIi

'my I

lilt' ''1 M

Comrades Three !

— a deep shelter in the steep slope of the river
bank — a large cave that had evidently been
formed by a crack in the cliff at a remote time
when the district was disturbed by internal
fires. Into this cave Dick crept. The opening
was just large enough to allow him to enter
without much stooping, and, as it was sheltered
from the whirling snow by overhanging willows,
the weary traveller found that he immediately
stepped from turmoil into peace.

228

CHAPTER XXI.

THE SERPENTS CAVE.

)

\\7AS ever a human being more thankful
to reach a haven from any storm
than Dick Edyvean was in discovering that
cave?

There the cold would still be unpleasantly
keen, for the thermometer must have dropped
to 30° below zero at the least, but, at any rate,
the traveller could congratulate himself in the
prospect of being free from snow and wind.
His great regret was that the cave was not
suitable for harbouring Bess as well. All that
could be done was to unharness her, and leave
her instinct to find some shelter.

After rummaging about for some time with
the aid of a few matches, Dick's luck seemed to
be in the ascendant. Evidently the narrow
cave was periodically flooded by the spring
rains, for a considerable number of dry twigs
and fairly substantial logs were found jammed
in corners and crevices.

It will not be difficult to imagine the comfort
that this discovery was in such a dilemma.

229

> I

Mfy^

Comrades Three !

Having a sufficient supply of matches, there
was now the prospect of comparative luxury,
where, but a few minutes before, unbearable
cold (and possibly death) had been the out-
look.

Speedily the wood was collected. The dry
twigs took very little coaxing to render good
service ; and soon Dick found himself stretching
at ease beside a friendly blaze, while the un-
friendly storm raged harmlessly past the mouth
of the cave in the dark night.

As time went on, the gratifying warmth
began to have a soothing influence on tired
limbs and nerves. The heat, following the
intense cold, soon commenced to coax sleep,
and, while he was barely aware of the fact,
Dick gradually sank down upon his side, and
fell into a deep slumber. There had been no
reason why he should not sleep while the night
and the storm lasted. While out in the snow,
the tendency to lie down and doze had, of course,
followed the excessive fatigue. But Dick had
known enough not to yield to what would have
proved to be a death-slumber. Now, however,
all was changed. Sleep was the best restorative
that he could have next to good food. There
were sufficient logs in the fire to keep blazing
for hours. So he welcomed the temptation, and
readily yielded.

Perhaps he slept for an hour ; perhaps for

230

»es, there
luxury,
|n bearable
the out-

The dry
|der good
stretching

the un-
he mouth

warmth
on tired
^ing the
IX sleep,
the fact,
side, and
been no
be night
he snow,
f course,
^ick had
Id have
owever,
torative
There
blazing
>n, and

ps for

The Serpents' Cave

two. But suddenly he was wakened with a
start.

" What was that ? " he asked aloud, forgetting
where he was.

It was a strange sound that had awakened
him, and as soon as he roused from drowsiness
he leaned up on his elbow to listen.

The sound was repeated, and ^ame clearly to
his ears. It was a noise something like that of
an old-time watchman's rattle — a danger signal,
which, once heard, is unmistakeable, and never
forgotten. It was the anger- warning of the
deadly rattle-snake !

As the truth flashed into Dick's mind, a cold
sweat spouted out of every pore in his body,
and at the same time, he started up in horror
to a sitting posture to listen acutely. Simul-
taneous with the movement, the one rattle was
multiplied by dozens.

Dick looked around him, and, as he did so,
his eyes began to stare and all his muscles to
quiver.

From every visible corner of the cave pro-
truded writhing bodies against which the firelight
glistened, exposing these figures with awesome
indistinctness.

If the boy had been able to see the entire
danger — the many dark crevices beyond his sight,
he might have been still more horror-struck. As
it was he could catch glimpses of glistening eyes

231

n e

.i^i!

il l<

Comrades Three !

and gliding bodies quite sufficient to unsteady
the nerves of the coolest and pluckiest. Inno-
cently he had stumbled upon a serpents' nursing
and winter hibernating place. The cave and
the fire that he had so eagerly and grate-
fully welcomed, now proved to be friends even
more treacherous than the cold and snow
without.

He dared not move, lest by so doing he
further attracted the attention of the venomous
creatures that were full of life. Evidently
they had mistaken the traveller's fire for the
return of summer.

What was he to do ? It was hardly safe to
breathe, as the slightest movement of limb or
body seemed to draw an inquiring reptile in his
direction.

Once he desperately determined to risk a
dash for the open and accept the blizzard
as the lesser of two evils. But at that
moment a cold, soft body dragged itself over
his hand as it lay on the ground ; so that
thought was dismissed as quickly as it had
come.

By this time the snakes were writhing all over
the floor of the cave — over his legs, round his
arms, and once even passing across his bare
throat 1 Not a muscle did he dare to move at such
times. The least tremour might mean the
plunging of the fangs into the nearest flesh, and

232

|o unsteady

"St. Inno-

its' nursing

cave and

^nd grate-

iends even

lud snow

doing he

venomous

Evidently

re for the

ily safe to
f limb or
Jtilc in his

to risk a

blizzard

at that

;self over
so that

5 it had

: all over
>und his
lis bare
) at such
an the
!sh, and

The Serpents' Cave

then — the signal for a general attack followed
by death swift and torturing. All that re-
mained for Dick to do was to sit as still as a
statue, watching the flames. He now longed
for the cold to return — thrice passionately as,
two hours since, he had yearned for the
warmth.

Well, all night long he remained in that fixed
position until every limb was numb and every
nerve strained to its utmost. Still the tantalising
logs continued to glow. They seemed to refuse
obstinately to abate the slightest degree of
h?at.

But at last the morning broke, and with its
coming the blizzard waned ,nd the fire reluctantly
began to dwindle. Gladly did poor Dick hail
these changes, and gladly too was he assured that,
with returning chill, his dangerous companions
became less active and retreated to their winter
crevices.

Yet the sun was high in the heavens before the
last serpent vanished and Dick was free to move-
By that time his limbs were so stiff" that the first
cautious movements were agony. But stiff" limbs
were better than lifeless ! He was thankful
enough for the former.

And when at last the young adventurer crept
out to the open, how he turned his face to the
new clear blue sky and gulped down the fresh air
of freedom ! He fairly yelled out with delight.

23a

•1.

!i. r i ■;

III ■ ;:^? r
- ■ ■'■■-■• it

tM M* 111

'4 ■■• 1 1 '!

Comrades Three !

Who would not have done the same on being
released from such a nightmare ?

And he found Bess calmly nibbling the hay
that lay on the bottom of the sleigh ! Little did
she care for blizzards when not forced to face
them. She had simply sought the lea of the
river bank, turned her back to the tempest, and
patiently waited where her master had left
her.

Harnessing was now a short matter, and soon
Dick was trotting oif to continue his journey
with all speed. He found the crossing not far
distant, and was soon slipping along the trail to
Calverf s ranch.

But his adventures were not yet ended.
Indeed they had hardly begun.

Reaching Calvert's house, Dick was rather
astonished to find that, while he was certainly
received with welcome, he was also received with
surprise.

" Glad to see you, old chap ! " said Fred.
" But what on earth has brought you out in
this weather — and alone ? Where's Stewart ?
I thought the valley trail would be quite
impassable."

For an invited guest, such a greeting was
not quite what might have been reasonably
expected.

" For goodness sake, don't chaflf at present I "
exclaimed Dick with an attempt at self-control

234

on being

[g the hay
Little did

-d to face
I lea of the

ipest, and
tad left

and soon
IS journey
ig not far
te trail to

3t ended.

^as rather

certainly

jived with

lid Fred.
>u out in
Stewart ?
t>e quite

ting was
asonably

resent ! "
t-con? rol

The Serpents' Cave

as he threw the reins to Lauder and followed
Calvert into the house. *' Grub is what I want,
first and foremost. I've had nothing to eat since
dinner yesterday ! "

As he spoke, Dick sank back exhausted upon
the nearest chair. His pale face, darkened eyes,
and general appearance of collapse amply
testified the truth of his words, and filled Calvert
with alarm.

" Nothing to eat ! " the latter echoed. " Why,
I don't understand "

" And you wait until you bring me food
— bread, milk, anything!'* interrupted Dick,
with the irritation of a nerve - racked
person.

Without another word, Calvert brought a
jug of fresh milk. Dick eagerly grabbed
it and gulped down the last drop. Then
he gave a great sigh of satisfaction, and
smiled more brightly as he returned the
vessel.

•* Thanks, old man. That's the sweetest drink
I ever tasted in my life."

*' That's good," returned Fred, as he now
began to prepare the necessaries for a meal until
Lauder returned to relieve him. "Now spin
your yarn while I forage grub. If it's bad news,
the sooner it is out the better."

"Oh, it's not very bad except as far as
my last night's adventure goes. But that is
15 236

Comrades Three !

'fi

lll:'^'^'^

over now, and I'll be right as a trivet as
soon as I have some of that bacon that
you're cutting. You see, when I got your
invitation to shoot antelope, Stewart's cold
was too bad "

But Dick got no further, for Fred clapped
down his butcher-knife with a bang.

" My invitation ! " he exclaimed.

" Yes, certainly. It came just after noon."

*' Nonsense ! " returned Calvert. " Why, man,
you must have been dreaming. I sent no
invitation ! "

It was Edyvean's turn now to be astonished,
and he stopped short in the act of peeling off his
furs.

" No invitation ! " he repeated in amazement,
as he turned to Calvert with a mystified look.
"Why, you must surely be joking. A young
Indian came and said that you had sent him to
summon us to a deer shoot. You remember we
spoke of this one day when Pierre and Lauder
were present, and I thought you had arranged
as we then proposed. True, I thought it was a
little strange that you did not send a note,
but "

"Look here, Dick," Fred said seriously.
"There is more in this than meets the eye —
unless, of course, you are having a game with
me."

" If that were the case, I would hardly chose

236

trivet as
)acon that

got your
^^art's cold

ed clapped

^r noon."
Why, man,
I sent no

astonished,
iling off his

amazement,
itified look.
A young
jent him to
nember we
nd Lauder
i arranged
ht it was a
d a note,

seriously,
the eye —
?ame with

rdly chose

The Serpents' Cave

such weather as this to carry out my joke in,"
returned Dick.

" Very well. Let's have the whole story while
I am getting grub ready. Something tells me
that some confounded trickery has been at
woi'k, though for what purpose I cannot

imagme.

j»

Then Edyvean related his adventures from the
beginning to the end, and during the narrating,
Fred's face continued to grow graver. Lauder
had returned from the stable by this time, and
he also listened with wrapt attention while he
silently assisted the " boss."

" Man ! But yon was a terrible adventure wi'
the rattlers ! " was his comment at the end, to
which Calvert rejoined —

"My instinct tells me that greater adven-
tures are still in store for us all. I wonder
if this can have any connection with the
Riddell affair ! "

"Do you ken the Indian that brought the
message yesterday ? " questioned Jock.

" Never saw him before in my life."

" But maybe ye'd spot the varmint if you saw
him again," Lauder then suggested, and Edyvean
quickly confirmed the idea.

"Certainly. I looked at him closely, and
I noticed in particular that he had a red
scar running from the left temple to his

ear.

))

237

!• ^\'\'\

Comrades Three !

At this annouDcement, Fred and Lauder
exchanged rapid glances of mutual under-
standing.

"That settles it!" said the former emphati-
cally.

" Settles what ? " asked Dick, quite in the
dark as to his friend's meaning.

*' Settles the point as to whether or not
Riddell had a hand in the matter. That
Indian is Fox-eye — a great friend of Pierre's,
and Pierre has no friendly dealings with the
Riddells. Evidently the half-breed has some
reason for wishing to get you out of the way for
a time "

"And Stewart is left behind/'' exclaimed
Dick, as he suddenly started up from his chair
and grabbed Fred by the arm with the greatest
excitement.

"My dear chap, it will not do any good to
give way to fear," said Calvert with a calmness
that he did not feel, however.

"Fearl" echoed Dick. "Why, man, who
knows what may not have happened by this
ti'.:"ie ? If harm was intended, fifteen hours have
been free to carry it out. I must start back at
once ! "

" Laddie 1 Laddie ! " was Lauder's kindly
interpolation. "There's no' a bit o' good will
come o' worrying on an empty stomach."

**But my brother — Stewart "

238

Id Lauder
fal under-

emphati-
[te in the

r or not
er. That
f Pierre's,
with the
has some
he way for

exclaimed
I his chair
te greatest

Y good to
calmness

iian, who
I by this
ours have
"t back at

s kindly
food will

;^ ^

The Serpents' Cave

" Is no' to be better off if you starve yoursel'.
Take advice frae me : food is the first thought.
While you're at that, I'll saddle you a couple o'
mares. After that — off you fly as fast as horse-
flesh will carry you ! "

And so Dick had perforce to agree to the Scot's
rough philosophy and Calvert's calm reasoning —
both of which his heart told him were good
advice. Hunger is no man's friend, but a foe
that opposes every effort of brain or muscle.

239

Ell '

it..,. I

Kl^

CHAPTER XXII.

A half-breed's stratagem.

XX/E must now hark back a bit to the time
when Dick had left the ranch in charge
of his brother and Arty.

After they had watched the departure of the
elder, Stewart turned indoors with a sigh. It
was not that he begrudged his brother the
pleasure of hunting antelope with Calvert ; but
hitherto all their pleasures had been shared, and
it seemed an ill-omen that one had left the other
behind to-day.

But Stewart was not a chap to go into dumps
about small things. He knew that his brother
had been perfectly right about the cough, and he
laughed pleasantly as he turned to Arty.

*' Say, old chap ! you heard the ' chiefs '
orders — that you and I have got to change
rooms ? I guess we'd better just set about the
business at once."

"You'll be a deal warmer in there," replied
the lad. " I've been comfy as toast every
night."

" Then, come on. We'll get the beds changed

240

A Half-Breed's Stratagem

> the time
in charge

ure of the
, sigh. It
rother the
Invert; but
hared, and
^ the other

^to dumps
is brother
iK and he

' chiefs '
o change
^bout the

" replied
St every

changed

now. Nothing like doing things when you think
about them. Besides, I've got some bread to
bake afterwards, so we will have a pretty busy
night."

While the boys were thus employed, Arty
was the first to note the signs of a coming
storm.

"Think Dick has reached Calvert's ranch
yet?"

Stewart consulted his watch.

"Hardly yet. Calvert's is quite two hours
away when the trail is good. But the snow
is lying fairly thick in some parts of the
valley."

"Then I guess he's got his work cut out
for him this trip," commented Arty. " There's
a blizzard coming, as sure as eggs are

Stewart looked out of the bedroom win-
dow towards where the sky met the distant
hills.

" It's beginning to look grey enough," he
remarked, and Arty, coming to his side, said —

" See these sun-dogs ! " (He pointed to two
rainbow circles of light, with a cross in the
centre of each, standing like attendants at each
side of the sinking sun.) "See them 1 That
means a blizzard for sure. In half an hour
more Gee-whiz ! Hear that ! " A shriek-
ing blast of wind at that moment struck

241

it I;

lis ,' :''•■'

[$iri~'~i

Mif

Comrades Three !

the house — the same blast that had greeted
Dick during the early part of his drive on
the ice.

It was the blizzard sure enough as time
proved, for soon it readied the ranch, scream-
ing and whirling round the house just as it had
held a witches' Sabbath round the traveller and
Bess.

Stewart was naturally concerned for his
brother's safety. But Arty's cheerfulness soon
coaxed hopeful views. Neither of the boys
knew the real state of the trails, and, of course,
it never occurred to them that any part would
be impassable.

" Don't you worry about the boss ! He's
fixed all right by this time ! " the younger
boy announced confidently. "He'd be able
to make Calvert's ranch by this time. It's
easy driving with Bess in the snow. He'd
do it quicker than in a buckboard on a dry
trail."

With these assurances, Stewart had to be
contented, and beyond a few remarks as to the
progress of the storm, the matter was not dis-
cussed further.

With night came the bread-making, at which
young Edyvean had become an adept. This
over, a few arrangements were made in
anticipation of the morning, after which the
boys went to bed.

242

greeted
drive on

as time

. scream-

ns it had

^veller and

for his

tness soon

the boys

of course,

)art would

3s ! He's
' younger
be able
me. It's
^. He'd
5n a dry

d to be

IS to the

not dis-

it which
t. This
ade in
ich the

A Half-Breed's Stratagem

Stewart was tired, and soon fell asleep.
" Punching bread," which is the Western
synonym for kneading dough, is not light work,
and when the boy's head was laid on the pillow,
he was booked to slumberland for a good seven
solid hours.

So heavily did he sleep that he did not hear
the window of his room being silently raised an
hour or two later ; he did not hear two Indians
creeping softly inwards ; nor did he recognise
anything amiss as they bent down to listen to
his breathing.

A slight pause followed. Then there was
a soft grunt of satisfaction from one of the
prowlers. That was also unheard by the
sleeper. Indeed, he knew nothing until he
was rudely awakened by having the bed-
clothes suddenly rolled around him, and
roughly drawn over his head to stifle any
cries that he might make, after ^/hich he was
picked up in the lock of powerful arms and
carried away.

Unable to move because of the clothes that
bound him so tightly, and unable to cry out —
hardly able to breathe — Stewart had no idea'
whence he was being conveyed. The cold wind
and some of the snow penetrated the blankets.
By that, only, he knew that he was outside, and
that the blizzard had not yet ceased. Beyond
that, he had no knowledge until he felt him-

243

Comrades Three !

self suddenly deposited on the ground, heard
a door slammed and locked, by which tokens
he judged himself a prisoner.

Slowly the captive managed to unroll the
wrappings that bound him like some ancient
mummy ; then he sat up. But the place was
in darkness.

Rising stiffly, Stewart next began to lecl his
way along the walls. He came against a heap
of firewood and what appeared to be a corn-bin.
By that he surmised that he was a prisoner in
some rancher's outhouse. But whose ? Perhaps
Riddell had escaped from prison ? The very
thought sent a cold shiver down the boy's back.
But he soon decided that, if such were indeed
his plight, fear would not rescue him. All his
wits would be needed to save his life, so he took
a firm grip upon his nerves, and once more
started exploring.

Being in his sleeping-garments Stewart was
terribly cold. He wrapped a blanket round his
shoulders and began his second journey round
the walls. He found the door and gently turned
the handle. But of course it v/as a forlorn hope
to anticipate any weakness in the lock. He was
well secured in a prison from which there seemed
to be no escape.

Unable, therefore, to find any exit, the boy
groped his way back to the comparative warmth
of the blankets, intending to wait patiently

S44

pi, heard
ph tokens

nroll the

le ancient

)lace was

10 iecl his
3t a heap
corn- bin.
risoner in
Perhaps
The very
oy's back,
re indeed
All his
30 he took
•nee more

wart was
round his
tey round
ly turned
lorn hope
He was
e seemed

the boy-
warmth
Patiently

A Half-Breed^s Stratagem

until he saw what daylight might bring
forth.

Just then he heard a voice at his side calling
in a whisper —

''Stewart! Stewart!"

It was but a tiny voice that called his name,
but such as it was Stewart heard it, and started
as though it had been a voice from the
dead.

" Stewart ! " was again repeated. This time
he recognised the tones, and he could hardly
believe his ears.

" Arty ! " he exclaimed.

"Yes, it's me — here — by the door. Come
quick — lie down — there's space between the
door and floor ! Quick ! there's very little time,
and they might nab me here ! "

*' They ! Who ? " exclaimed Stewart excitedly,
as he crawled to the door and lay down so as to
be on a level with the speaker.

" Pierre and his Indians. I reckon they'd
skin me alive if they caught me ! "

" But where am I ? " questioned Stewart.

" In my dad's outhouse. It's this way — I v/as
wakened up by feeling the wind whizzing
through the shanty. I went to your room and
found you gone and the window open. Well,
then I pretty quick sized things up. It's me
old Pierre wants, and he's made a mistake and
taken you ! "

245

Comrades Three !

■ml •

k'i if ''

Hill

1 ill

A:rl

It was difficult to follow the youngster's course
of reasoning — he spoke so quickly.

" What on earth should he want you for?"
asked Stewart.

" Blamed if I know ! " was the frank answer.
" Perhaps 'cause he hatos my dad. At any rate
I slipped on some clothes and lit out on the trail
before the tracks got snowed up. I followed con-
siderable ; then I came to the foot of our ravine.
The blizzard had toned down a bit, and I was able
to see a light in the old shak. Well, 1 know dad
weren't there, so reckoned that was where they
had taken you. Back I went for home, and now
I've brought your clothes, and — this. Put out
your hpnd and take them."

Stewart did as he was told and felt some-
thing being pressed towards him. He grabbed
it, and found a heavy Colt's revolver with his
fingers.

" Sure it's loaded ? " he asked with a sigh of
relief, for now he had a friend to aid him in
his predicament.

" In every chamber. Think I take guns to
play with like toys ? " was the contemptuous
retort. " And see — here's your clothes ! Get
''^m on quick, or you'll freeze."

" Oh, Arty, you're a brick I " exclaimed poor
Stev/art, and his gratitude for the plucky
youngster's conduct brought a choking lump into
his throat. " You're a brick ; and I'll never

246

A Half-Breed's Stratagem

forget all you have done for me ! " Stewart
stretched out his hand and groped until he held
a small, cold one under the door. He thought
that he heard a sort of baby sob from the outside.
Perhaps he was mistaken, for it was quite a stout
voice that answered.

** 'Taint anything ! You and Dick saved my
dad's life, and I promised him I'd stick to you.
That's all. Now slip into your pants like grease
lightning. After that, feel around for a corn-bin.
It's half- full, but don't mind that. Dive your
arm down till you come to the bottom. You'll
find a ring theie. Pull, and the bottom will
come up. It's a trap-door to a secret passage.
When you go down, mind and shut the trap
after you, and the oats will fall back so's to
hide everything." Suddenly the boy quickened
his speaking, and added excitedly : " Quick I
Quick 1 I hear people moving. Slip into the
bin ! Take your clothes with you and ^.ress in
the passage."

Considerable alarm was expressed in Arty's
tone.

" Then, for goodness' sake, hide yourself! " ex-
claimed Stewart, who immediately became infected
by the spirit of alarm. It was not for himself he
feared so much as for the plucky little chap who
had nsked so much for Lis sake. But he received
no reply to his urging, so judged that the child had
made himself scarce at the approaching danger.

247

Comrades Three !

^iM

He waited by the door for a few moments,
but heard nothing to cause him further
apprehension. Then he began to feel round
the walls again until he found the bin.
Once there, it took litde searching to discover
the ring that Arty had described. Openirg
the trap, he quickly descended the ladder
that was ready for the purpose. The door
closed over his head. Then Stewart breathed
more freely, and hastened to dress in the
clothes that his brave little friend had brought
for him.

The warmth of the garments seemed to restore
more of the warmth of courage. How his heart
thanked the ready wit and manly pluck that had
come to his aid !

After that, the prisoner began to take a blind-
man's survey of his surroundings for the second
time that night.

Feeling cautiously with his hands, he found
that he was in a fairly large cellar, the walls of
which were of earth. There were several empty
cases stored in the corners, but what they might
have contained, of course, Stewart could not con-
jecture. It would have surprised him if he had
known that once they had conveyed household
goods from his very native town in Cornwall,
and that the owner had but recently sat in Mrs.
Edyvean's drawing-room with his son, Willie
Crewes, and confessed the whole story of his

S48

moments,
further
Ifeel round
the bin.
30 discover
Openirg
^he ladder
The door
breathed
!ss in the
id brought

i to restore
iv his heart
k that had

ke a blind-
the second

, he found
le walls of
Jral empty
hey might
d not con-
if he had
household
Cornwall,
%t in Mrs.
n, Willie
ry of his

A Half- Breed's Stratagem

(Stewart's) sacrifice for that same son. Of
course, cases have not tongues to speak, or
they might have told some part of this.
They might also have imparted what the
darkness concealed : that " Crewes " was written
in large black letters on each lid — not
" Reynolds," for the latter was only the assumed
name of a whisky smuggler ; " Crewes " was
the real name of a man who had deserted his
home and left his son to the not over-
tender mercies of an uncle. Yet, as we say,
Stewart had no means of knowing all this at
present. He merely gave the boxes a passing
thought, then passed on.

Groping along the walls, he discovered an
opening at one side. This was a narrow passage
that led a twisted course. At one part, he came
upon a heavy door that blocked the way. It
was massive oak, with heavy bolts. These were
drawn back, so were no hindrance to the
explorer's progress. With caution he pulled it
towards him. Noiselessly it moved on its hinges,
and by feeling Stewart found that there were
bolts on the other side as well, and, so far as he
could tell, the passage continued in the darkness
as before.

*• Evidently a dodge of old Reynolds to
make a retreat doubly safe," was Stewart's
mental comment. Then a sudden light flashed
into his mind. " Bolts on both sides ! That

249

f.<

,111 b

!■

Comrades Three !

means that the passage can be entered from
either end ! This door is to cut off pursuit
from either end." It had been the boy's
fear that the passage might end in a cnl
de sac. Such a contingency would have left
him in a worse plight than the former, in the
event of his captors choosing to occupy the out-
house. There could be no escape from an
underground cellar; from a passage the odds
were in his favour, and perhaps, in a short time,
his present troubles might be at an end.

250

CHAPTER XXIIl.

TRIAL BY TORTURE.

IT was with a lighter heart that Stewart
pursued his journey. He groped his way
along the twists of the underground passage
until he came to another cellar that seemed
similar to the first. Here he stumbled against
a second ladder. Carefully he ascended, pausing
to listen in case he might find himself in a worse
plight than the former. But he could hear
nothing, so he pushed up another trap, revealing
a replica of the secret bin of the outhouse.
Stealthily he raised the lid to a chink through
which he could peep. It was daylight now, and
to his great joy he found himself in a small room
that was used for storing harness and implements.
There was a door beside him ; but hearing voices
through the wooden partition that separated this
from the main house, he paused to consider his
position before acting rashly. One of the voices
he recognised, and he turned to peep through
a crack in the woodwork in order to satisfy his
curiosity as to the other speakers.

, But whatever thoughts Stewart might have
16 251

mmi

«' M

{Hi

> ii

ii 'i

i!^ 9I H;! (

Comrades Three !

had at first of dashing for freedom, these thoughts
were immediately banished by the sight he saw.
Seated near the cooking-stove in Keynolds'
kitchen were the half-breed Pierre and two
Indians — one of the latter being the scarred
messenger of yesterday. At a little distance
was the child Arty, tightly bound by a lasso to
a heavy chair. The boy's face was pale, but his
lips were firmly set and his eyes stared bravely
at the men who faced him. By the ugly looks
of the captors it was not difficult to gather that
the lad was having (and had been undergoing)
a torturous time since he had last spoken in
alarm to Stewart, and these same evil looks
boded no good for what was to follow. The
men were speaking in English with the evident
intention of adding torture by enabling Arty to
understand all they said.

" So you knew Pierre stick knife in Reynolds'
back ? " Pierre was questioning. Then he gave
a short, cruel laugh. "The white boy have
eyes like hawk — but he no' see everythings.
Pierre see more ; hear more. He listen at
window. White boy tell old man secret.
Foolish white boy ! Pierre must keep tongue
from speaking what Pierre no' wish him speak ! "

What this threat meant one could not gather
then, but the savage tone in which it was uttered
was enough to tell Stewart that some terrible
revenge had already been plotted. Instinctively

262

ese thoughts
ght he saw.
1 Keynolds'
e and two
the scarred
tie distance
y a lasso to
)ale, but his
red bravely
ugly looks
gather that
undergoing)
spoken in
evil looks
3llow. The
the evident
ing Arty to

1 Reynolds'
en he gave
boy have
verythings.
i listen at
aan secret.
Sep tongue
im speak ! "
not gather
was uttered
me terrible
istinctively

Trial by Torture

he felt in his pocket for the revolver that Arty's
forethought had provided. Alas ! in his hasty
retreat, it had been left on the floor of the wood-
shed. And it was too late now to return for it.
Pierre had resumed speaking, and who knows
what might not happen during the would-be
rescuer's absence.

" Did the serpent's spawn think to sleep safe
in bed after speaking words like these?" the
half-breed hissed out.

" Ah ! that was the secret of the kidnapp-
ing?" Stewart thought. "I was taken in
mistake for Arty, and he, poor beggar, has fallen
into the enemy's clutches after all ! "

"Did he think to live long knowing so
much ? " Pierre demanded.

But to these questions Arty did not answer
a word. He sat as still as a statue, and as pale
as one of marble. His hands were clenched, and
his lips doggedly shut.

"But Pierre have friends," continued the
half-breed. "He have friends help him, and
they watch, watch, day and night. Then they
take spy — though he nearly run away from
prison."

Evidently Pierre was too glad to have Arty
in his power to question how the lad had
managed to escape from a locked room. Having
nearly lost him, his delight in the recapture was
too great to leave space for side issues. Then

263

Comrades Three !

t< :■;«

he turned and spoke to his companions in a
whisper. What he said evidently pleased them,
for they all three laughed as their leader took
out a long hunting-knife from the breast of his
shirt, and laid it on the table.

" Listen ! " h*^ said to Arty, aftecting a gentler
air. " Pierre is kind. Pierre has some pity for
papoose. He will, what you say — bargain with
the serpent's spawn. If white boy tell Pierre
where old man Reynolds' gold hide, then Pierre

no' kill. But, if papoose speak not " (here

the savage brute bent forward to place his face
close before the boy's, and, staring straight into
the brave young eyes, hissed out his final

threat) "if papoose speak not, then Pierre

cut off ears — nose — fingers. Pierre kiil ! kill !
— terrible slow — but — kill ! "

It was horrible. The words dripped out like
poison from a serpent's fangs.

Still, not a woid did Aroy utter ; not v,
movement of his face betrayed a sign of fear.

With a burst of passion the half-breed then
leaped upright.

** What ! You no' speak ? You tie tongue
when Pierre order ? We shall see — we shall see
how long a dog is dumb when Pierre say
* speak ! '"

Snatching up the long knife from the table,
tho infuriated man plunged the blarte between
the bars of the glowing fire. It was red hc^ m

264

Trial by Torture

anioii^ in a
eased them,
leader took
)reast of his

og a gentler
)me pity for
)argain with

tell Pierre
then Pierre

" (here

ace his face
traight into
his final
then Pierre

kill ! kill !

ixn instant. He quickly withdrew it, and wheel-
ing upon Arty, gripped one of the lad's arms
while, without warning, he pressed the hot
metal upon the boy's bare hand.

" Speak ! Speak I " the savage shrieked in
a perfect frenzy.

A hissing sound and a sickening smell reached
Stewart as the knife touched the boy's flesh.

Then the watcher could contain himself no
longer. He gave a wild cry to stay the torturer,
rushed for the door, and in another moment ha
burst into the presence of the terrible men.

)ed out like

fcer; not n
of fear,
breed then

tie tongue
/"o shall see
P'erre say

the table,
ie between
red hc^ ui

255

•gmHMKMMMIiaMMnMM

CHAPTER XXIV.

BLACK cloud's "REVENGE."

A I

I? I

^EITHER Dick nor Calvert spared horse

flesh on that journey to the former's

ranch. Fred was familiar with the shortest

and safest trail for that season of the vear,

ft '

and so the distance was covered with speed
and safety.

On reaching their destination, however, their
worst fears wer i realised. The door of the
house stood open, the stove was cold, and to
all appearance the place had been deserted for
some hours.

" Stewart ! Arty ! " Dick called loudly, but
no answer was forthcoming. Next he dashed
into the room that his brother was to occupy.
There he stopped aghast at what he saw. The
room was empty ; there were few clothes on the
bed ; the window was wide open, and the snow
had drifted to a heap upon the floor.

" Gone ! Stewart is gone ! " he exclaimed to
Calvert, who had followed in closely. "What
vile treachery has been at work to take my
brother away ? "

266

•ared horse
he former's
he shortest
the year,
with speed

wever, their
loor of the
old, and to
ieserted for

loudly, but
he dashed
to occupy,
saw. The
hes on the
d the snow

claimed to

'. " What

take my

Black Cloud's "Revenge'*

Fred's heart was aching for his friend's
trouble, but he tried to remain calm and
collected. He had long since learned that
hopeless despair often makes the possible an
impossibility.

"Come, Dick," he said quietly, "you must
not give way. If the chap is in danger, clear
heads are needed to save him, not wild words.
You must buck up for Stewart's sake. When
the moment of his trial comes, he must find you
strong beside him."

Tiiese were just the words that Dick
needed. To recall to his mind the truth
that Stewart's safety relied upon his brother's
strength, rescued the elder from the despair
that was so dangerously apparent. It might,
perhaps, seem heartless in Fred to be so
calm at such a crisis, but Edyvean was too
true in his own heart to doubt the loyalty
of another. Indeed, we often find that the
deepest sympathy is that which looks at
trouble with the steadiest eye and calmest
face.

"Thank you, Fred," Dick said simply, as he
turned and held out his hand to his friend.
" You are right. Stewart may need all our
strength. We must waste none in needless
wailing."

Just then the sound was heard of horse's hoofs
beating on the trail near the house.

257

f,»-fe.

i !!•:»! }}

ill

Comrades Three !

Calvert hurried to the window and looked
out.

" Well, if this isn't fortunate ! " he ex-
claimed. "The very man we need — Sergeant
Woodrow ! "

"Sergeant Woodrow, and no other!" replied
the officer as he reined up his steed at
the window where the two friends were
standing.

" You're just the man we are in need of," said
Dick earnestly. " Won't you tie up your broncho
and come in ? "

" Can't wait. Rode from Regina this morning
— duty!" was the answer. "I only called to
say * how-do ' in passing, and then I'm on the
trail again — going to your ranch, Mr. Calvert,
by the way."

" To my ranch ? " repeated Fred. *' What
duty calls you there ? "

"Your half-breed, Pierre."

" Pierre — my cowboy ? "

" The same. He's been a bit of a scoundrel in
his day — was mixed up in the robbery of old
Miles Truman, a miser of Moosmir, some years ago.
He got off at the trial and his pal was locked up.
That pal is now dying in prison and has given
evidence that will put Pierre in a cell for some
years to come, and now I've come with the
warrant — but, Great Scott ! " (The Sergeant
had just caught a glimpse of the inside of the

258

iihI looked

lie ex-
-Sergeant

'•'" replied
steed at
nds were

'd of," said
ur broncho

is morning
' called to
'm on the
r. Calvert,

Black Cloud's "Revenge*'

((

What

3undrel in
ry of old
^ears ago.
3cked up.
las given
for some
^ith the
Sergeant
e of the

turning your house into
that snow in the best

bedroom.) "Are you
a refrigerator with all
bedroom ? "

The officer asked this question with a touch of
humour, but a glance at the two friends told his
experienced eye that something was amiss.

"Say, what's the matter?" he questioned
seriously.

** Everything," replied Dick. " We are in
the midst of trouble and don't know what to
do."

" Anything in my line ? "

" I am afraid so."

In an instant the Sergeant had slipped from
his horse, flung the bridle over a gate-post, and
entered the house with business in every move-
ment.

" H'm ! " he uttered after a significant glance
at the cold kitchen and, afterwards, the deranged
bedroom. " Tell me your story as briefly as you
can. I see that your brother is not here. Is he
concerned "

"Yes, hi:, and Arty Reynolds — they have
disappeared, by foul trickery of that very
' Pierre,' I believe," interrupted Dick.

" Then the sooner I hear the details, the better,"
was the comment.

Dick then told his story as quickly as he could
— right from the first bringing of the supposed
message from Calvert to the return and the dis-

' 259

I'^r.^-lf^

Comrades Three !

p-i

m* !\ ).■

VI!

coveries of that morning. Sergeant Woodrow
Hstened with close attention. Then he turned
to Cal'^ert.

" Mr. Edyvean says that this Indian who
brought the message is a friend of Pierre. Do
you know him ? "

" SUghtly. Fox-eye is his name."

*** Fox-eye ! '" repeated Woodrow with a raising
of his eyebrows. " A fellow with a scar on the
side of his face ? "

** The same. Do you know him ? "

" I should think I do, the skunk ! He's a
renegade Sioux — one of the worst ever made.
I shall be glad to lay my hands on him.
I've tried to got a clear case against him for
years, but he always wriggled out, just like
Pierre. But, Great Srott ! If the boys have
fallen into their hands, they are indeed among
v;olv6s ! "

" But what is to be done ? We are wasting
time talking here," said Dick somewhat
impatiently.

"It is never * waste of time ' to get facts clear
before you r^tart on a man-hunt. And to know
the characters of fchose you seek is often half the
knowledge necessary to trace motive and hiding-
place," replied Woodrow.

Then Fred suggested : —

*' Surely there must be tracks that we might
follow."

260

Wood
te turne

row

[ndian who
*ierre. Do

Itha

Jcar on the

raismor

k ! He's a
ever made,
on him.
st him for
, just like
boys have
eed amonef

ire wasting
somewhat

facts clear
i to know
en half the
nd hidinor-

we might

Black Cloud's "Revenge"

*' Undoubtedly," was the response. " But not
tracks that you or I could find unaided. You
forget that a deal of snow has fallen and drifted
during the night. It will take more than three
of us to find the key to the hiding-place, and it
will take more than a white-man's eye and head
to see aright and plan the campaign since time is
of value."

At this statement Dick's face fell consider-
ably.

"Then we shall lose time in finding such a
person. I suppose you will need to return to
barracks ? "

" I'm not so sure of that," said Woodrow.
'* There's only one man in these parts who can
find a blind trail such as this "

" And he ? " interrupted Dick hastily.

" It is doubtful if he would help us," answered
the Sergeant. ** You see, I had him lately in

my hands "

of that ? " Edy vean demanded
Surely no man would refuse to
help us at such a time. Why, even now,
poor Stewart and Arty may be suff'ering — who
can tell what ? "

"True," returned Woodrow sympathetically.
"I am as sorry for you as I can be. But this
man was accused by me of attempting to murder
Reynolds. I couldn't prove my case ; but right
or wrong he will always bear me a grudge for

261

" What
sharply.

Vw /

iii'ii' i- ; ■ til.

■i^

S-V .

'li

:^ia

^ :!

Comrades Threo 1

having tried to spot him. Black Cloud is the
man I mean. He could find youi brother, but —
will he ? "

" He must ! I'll speak to him ; I'll beg him ;
I'll promise him anything. He can't refuse me !
He has a tender spot in his heart. He saved
little Arty from danger ; he'll never refuse me
when I tell him that it is the same child and my
brother who are in peril."

" Very well," said Woodrow with quiet acqui-
escence. "We cannot do without him. That's
clear. We must do our best to get round him.
Mount your bronchoes, boys, and we'll head
straight for the camp. Got your guns in your
pockets ? Right. Come along, then, and try
what we can do."

As we know, the Blackfeet camping-ground
was no great distance. A short canter brought
the riders to the spot, and the whole tribe was
soon in a clamour of excitement as the boys and
the policeman rode up. It vas not Woodrow's
first visit to the vicinity. On the last occasion
it had been to lead away the chief with the
" bracelets" on his wrists, and somewhat similar
intentions were naturally anticipated by the
Indians.

The officer led the way direct to Black Cloud's
tent, and then called loudly.

" Black Cloud ! Great Chief of the Black-
feet I My friends and I would speak with

262

Black Cloud's " Revensre

you. It is of life and death we come to see
you !

Hardly were the words spoken, than the door-
way of the teepee was raised, and the proud
figure of the chief emerged, followed by three
braves. He looked swiftly at the boys, and then
turned to the police officer with a steady, fearless
look.

" The customs of my people forbid me to drive
the stranger from our tents. You are welcome,
Chief-of-the-Burning- Arrow ! " ^

Woodrow bent his head to acknowledge the
welcome.

"When duty does not send us, we are proud
to be the guests of Black Cloud," he said. " To-
day my white brothers seek you in trouble.
Will you help them ? "

That question brought a smile of bitter scorn
into the chiefs face. He folded his ermine
robe around him, and raised his plumed head
with an action of inexpressible pride.

" What service can be hoped from he who
strikes the blow of a coward — in the hack f "
he asked. "Is he, whom you call * assassin,'
the one to help the white man in his
need ? "

With such biting contempt did Black Cloud
make these questions that Dick, seeing an angry
flush on Woodrow's cheeks, and fearing a quarrel,

* A reference to Woodrow's fame with fire-arms.

263

Comrades Three !

hastened to take upon himself the duty of
further pleading.

" chief, one night when the fire-water
was maddening your braves, and an old man —
one of us — would have beaten his boy, we saw
you leap forward like a good spirit, and fold the
child within your protecting arms. That child
is again in danger ; and my brother, who is
dearer to me than life, he is in danger too!
Pierre, the half-breed, and Fox-eye have taken
them — we know not where. Have pity, chief!
If the white man has wronged you, give back
good for evil this day I "

Without changing a muscle of his face. Black
Cloud had turned to Dick aad listened to him in
passive silence, while the passionate words poured
out. From features, it might have been thought
that the utterances had been barely heard.
But Dick's desperation had read sympathy in
the red man's eyes, and his heart leaped hope-
fuUy.

"You will help us, will you not?" he
begged.
Then the chief replied solemnly.
" The white man speaks well, and his tongue
speaks truth. Blacl: Cloud was indeed wronged
when it was said that his hand came like the
bite of a cur — from behind. Black Cloud hated
Chief Fire-water. Chief Fire-water stole the
reason of my braves, and left them poor and

S64

[e duty of

fire-water

old man—

joy, we saw

|nd fold the

That child

er, who is

anger too!

have taken

pity, chief!

give back

1 face, Black
Bd to him in
'^ords poured
een thought
irely heard,
empathy in
eaped hope-
not?" he

his tongue
ed wronged
ae like the
^loud hated
r stole the
I poor and

I'OR A CHILD -RKI) OR WHITE— BLACK CLOUD WOI'LD GLADLY

Black Cloud's "Revenge

weak. They became as women. But Black
Cloud could not kill without looking into the
eyes of his enemy ! "

A moment the Indian paused. Then he
resumed with proud impressiveness —

" But that the white man may know how a
red man can show revenge, Black Cloud will do
this thing that he is asked. For a child — red
or white — Black Cloud would gladly give his
life!"

The lips of both Dick and Calvert opened to
give vent to a flood of gratitude. But Black
Cloud did not wait for thanks. He turned to
one of his braves and gave an order for his
mustang, after which he summoned a number of
his young men and once more addressed Dick —
utterly ignoring Woodrow.

*' Lead to the place where Pierre has been ! "
he said quietly. "The bird is not safe when
that fox creeps around."

*' All that I have you may ask for, and it
will be given to you gladly if you restore my
brother and Arty in safety," said Dick earnestly.

"Black Cloud does not seek payment for
giving a man's service," was the storn and proud
retort. " To save a life is but to do as Manito
wills ; and yet " — the speaker p aused and stood
a moment in silence while he turned with
a though tf\il look towards Woodrow — " and yet
there is a reward that Black Cloud would seek.

267

OoTrn ades Three !

€ f

You could my Umt, Burning- Arrow ? Will you
do so ? " ^

Wondering at the Indian's sudden change of
mannci', the officer raised his eyebrows question-
ingly.

" 1 can promise nothing until I know what is
asked for," he said.

" Yet it is little — little to you ; a great thing to
a chief. All I ask is that you bury the thought
that Black Cloud could strike a blow from
behind ! " And then, without waiting for a
reply, the speaker turned^ mounted his horse,
while, followed by a troop of lithe young men on
foot, he started the return to the Edyveans'
ranch.

268

CHAPTEK XXV.

WILLIE CRE\r^S.

IMPATIENT at the delay, yet more hopot 4I
* since the chiefs aid had been enlisted, Dick
Edyvean hastened in front, and when the house
was reached, he at once sprang from the saddle
and pointed to the still open bedroom window.

"There, chief! From that room my brother
was stolen ! " he said.

Black Cloud also dismounted. While the
braves stood to one side awaiting instructions, he
bent down and began creeping around, scraping
up some of the snow in places, and sniffing the
air like a hound on the track of blood.

Suddenly there ^ame a gasp of satisfaction.

" Moccasins ! " he exclaimed. Then he pointed
in the direction of a certain part of the wooded
hillside. *' Braves ! The moccasin leads yonder.
Who will be the first to win the prize I oflfer —
this robe of ermine — the robe of a chief who will
succeed Black Cloud when he has gone to
Manito?"

A general cry of eagerness was the answer,
and the chief went on —
17

nlll

Bl p|{i

Hjl 1 |i m

III

B|;i

V ;

^Kii ill

Hi! 1

1 ^

III

Ki^^i lis ' h' 1' ii

; '

filv3 i 'SU

Comrades Three !

'* The snow has veiled where the foot has trod
upon the plain. But yonder — in the bush — the
veil is thin. Black CJoud's robe to the brave who
first finds the track of the serpent Pierre or Fox-
eye!"

Like so many arrows fired from bow-strings
fifty youths and men instantlj^^ sprang forwxrd,
each one eager to win such a prize. They ran
along the side of the hill and, reaching the fringe
of the bush, spread out in a line to examine every
inch of ground and every broken tv/ig.

At the same moment came the merry tinkling
of sleigh-bells near at hand.

*' Who comes now ? " asked Calvert, turning in
the direction of the sound.

** Some fool always comes to interrupt impor-
tant business!" exclaimed Woodrow with
irritation.

Just then the advancing sleigh rounded a
bunch of willows, and Dick cried out in surprise —

" Reynolds, by all that's strange I But who's
the young fellow sitting with him ? "

" Can't say," answered Fred, as he eyed the
newcomer critically. " Whoever it is, I wish he
had chosen some other day for visiting."

*'And this'll be a sad day for Reynolds to
return on — to find Arty gone," remarked Dick,
whose thoughts were always for others more than
for self.

But the watchers were not kept long in doubt.

270

Willie Crewes

The sleigh soon reached them, and as it did so,
the " stranger " jumped out and ran at once to
Dick with outstretched arms.

" Edyvean ! Edyvean, old man ! I am glad
to see you 1 "

Dick had stepped forward towards the stranger,
but suddenly he was seen to stop, draw himself
up, and place his hands behind his back.

"Crewes!" he exclaimed in surprised, more
than cordial tones.

" Yes, Willie Crewes, of Dunmere. You
haven't forgotten me ? "

" No ; I have not — forgotten — you — Crewes,"
replied Dick in a cold, steady voice.

The stranger's outstretched arms fell to his
sides, and his eager tones sank sadly.

" Can you not forgive me, Edyvean ? " he
asked wistfully.

But Dick was unmoved. He spoke with
deliberate distinctness.

" Stewart kept his promise to you. How
have you kept yours ? "

" Faithfully I " was the immediate reply. " I
was a cad once, Edyvean. Stewart saved me,
and in Heaven's name I have done the straight
thing ever since. I have won the * Rattray ' ; I
have told the Doctor everything. My father can
answer for that."

" Yes," said Reynolds, who had come forward
by this time. " I can answer for that. This is

271

■''iili

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1 II

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my boy, Edyvean. When you thought I was too
ill to understand, I heard you talking with your
brother. I learned all that Stewart had borne
for my son's sake, and I determined to go home
as soon as possible and let the truth be known,
even though it should disgrace Willie before all
the world. It was cruel injustice that Stewart
should suffer for what was really my blame, since
I deserted my boy whom I ought to have
guarded. It was cruel injustice "

" Stewart never thought so," interrupted Dick
quietly, and Reynolds quickly returned —

** And that made it all the more cruel. But
on the very day of my arrival I fou d that Willie
had confessed all to the Doctor "

" And what do you think ? " interrupted young
Crewes eagerly. "In the presence of the
whole school, the Head explained the wrong that
was done to you both, and announced that,
immediately, your name and Stewart's would be
engraved on the Golden Roll of Honour in the
dear old chapel ! Can you — can you forgive me,
Dick? My father brought me out all this
distance to ask this question of you — and
Stewart."

For answer, Dick held out the hands that had
been refused.

" I know what my brother would say, Crewes.
He will be glad to have suffered a little, since
you have kept your pledge. We are friends ! "

272

I was too
[with your
lad borne
go home
)e known,
before all
It Stewart
ime, since
to have

pted Dick
i—

•uel. But
;hat Willie

)ted young
e of the
^^rong that
iced that,
\ would be
)ur in the
Jrgive me,
' all this
you — and

J that had

Tf Crewes.
btle, since
lends I "

Willie Crewes

Crewes at once gripped his old schoolfellow's
hands with real gratitude.

'* Dear old Dick ! Nobody can say how glad
I am to hear you say that 1 I have been hoping
for such an answer, but have hardly dared to
believe in the hope that was so far beyond what
I deserved. Some day I may be able to pay back
a little of that debt. When that time comes,
you'll find me very ready." Poor boy I he
little knew how soon was to come the time for
proving his words.

During the latter part of this interview
between Dick and Willie, Reynolds (as we must
still know him) had been talking with Woodrow
and Calvert, from whom they learned the
circumstances that had gathered them together
that morning.

The oIq man was at once filled with
concern for the safety of the boys, though,
as one with whom danger was an old experi-
ence, he did not become unduly excited at
the news.

" If they have fallen into Pierre's hands, God
pity them ! " he said. ** Pierre hates me, and will
hate all who know me. He tried to murder me

once-

The speaker stopped suddenly, for an exclama-
tion of surprise broke from Woodrow, and at
the same moment there appeared behind the
officer the tall form of Black Cloud gazing at

878

'i:

illl. L

' " 1 ' !

Comrades Three !

Keynolds with a calmly triumphant look in his
eyes.

"He tried to — to murder — you?" repeated
Woodrow in a sort of daze.

"Yes. I had not meant to betray him, for
the punishment was a just one, and it brought
me to myself. But that is the truth. He
stabbed me in the back. I saw him running
away. Only Arty knows of this besides myself. "

Reynolds paused.

Then a strange thing happened.

Just for a moment the sergeant stood puzzled
and in deep thought, and the impassive Indian,
who had moved round, aiso waited in silence and
watched the changing expressions in the officer's
face.

Next moment Woodrov ■ had stepped forward
with military precision.

" Black Cloud," he said, " I wronged you !
Will the Red Chief bend his pride to accept the
hand t'lat was once raised against him in
enmity, but is now given in lifelong friend-
ship ? "

And then for the first time a smile broke
over the Indian's face — a smile, not of pride, but
of love — as he replied —

"There is no chief more brave than he who
wronged his friend, yet asks that friend's
forgiveness. White brother, Manito smiles
upon His world to-day I "

274

)ok in his
repeated

him, for
ft brought
[uth. He

running
;s myself."

)d puzzled
ve Indian,
silence and
he officer's

id forward

ged you !

accept the

him in

g friend-

ile broke
pride, but

1 he who

friend's

> smiles

Willie Crewes

And surely the chiefs reverent words were an
omen of good, for at the same instant a cry of
exultation rang out from the hillside.

One of the braves had won the ermine robe 1
The trail had been found in the bush where the
late blizzard had not been allowed freedom to
drift at pleasure as on the bare hill-side. And
once the beginning of a track is found, it is only
a matter of time before an Indian reaches the
lair of a hunted man or beast.

276

CHAPTER XXVI.

will's " DUTY "

IT was certainly a brave impulse that sent
Stewart into that nest of reptiles in aid
of poor Arty Reynolds — brave, because what
could one boy do against such a foe ? How could
he hope to vanquish three men in whose veins the
hot blood of the roused savage was rushing with
torrential force? The result was a foregone
conclusion. Though taken by surprise, and, in
consequence, less active for the moment, it
was of course but a matter of a few minutes
more until they had two helpless captives
pinioned to chairs instead of one. Stewart
gave them a sharp struggle all the same, and
the mark of a hammer raised in self-defence
left a beauty-spot on the half-breed's face to
match that of Fox-eye.

But now Pierre was an utter fiend when the
struggle was over, and he stood wiping the
blood from his cheek, wh:.le he faced the new
captive.

*' So the white papoose is not the only spy
that Pierre knows ? " he hissed, and Stewart's

276

Will's "Duty

that sent
es in aid
use what
low could
J veins the
ihing with
foregone
se, and, in
ioment, it
V minutes
captives
Stewart
ame, and
If-defence
3 face to

when the

pin- the

the new

only spy
Stewart's

reply was not the soft answer thcit turns away
wrath.

*• You're a coward, Pierre — as dirty a coward
as ever stepped upon the prairie ! You can only
face kids like that poor chap, Reynolds. You
only attack men — to strike from behind ! "

It was a chance shot, but it reached its mark.
The half-breed gave a cry of wrath at the taunt
and struck Stewart on the face with the flat of
his hand.

" Ah 1 You speak so to me — snake — dog —
spy 1 "

" Strike again, Pierre ! " retorted Stewart with
a laugh, for his hope was by irritating the man to
save Arty further torture, for the time being at
least. " It's your only chance of hitting a fellow
— when his anns are tied 1 "

" Hit ! Hit ! " echoed Pierre, now goaded to a
fresh frenzy by Stewart's jeers. ** Pierre — kill !
But he not kill quick — he slow — slow ! First
the tongue — the serpent's tongue shall burn —
slow — ever so slow. Then the eyes ! And Pierre
will laugh and clap hands while spy screams and
cries ! " And the half-breed once more thrust his
knife into the lire, while his companions stood
by and watched the scene with silent amuse-
ment.

Poor Stewart knew now that he might as well
hope for pity from the fire itself as from his savage
enemy. But he turned to Arty who was sitting

277

Comrades Three !

speechless with horror, and white as though he
were already dead. It had not been so difficult
to be brave alone, but to see the cruelty
practised on another made the thought of his
own future too vivid for bearing.

" Be brave, Arty, old chap ! " Stewart said.
" Let that fiend see how English boys can face
danger without whining."

Arty did not answer. He was dumb with fear
now, and almost dazed. But he gave Stewart a
sad look of gratitude, and steeled his heart to
endure bravely whatever might follow.

" Shut your eyes and you won't see him, old
boy," Stewart next said with a steady voice, for
Pierre was examining the steel to see if it were
yet hot enough. " And — keep on saying your
prayers all the time. God won't let it hurt so
much then, and perhaps He'll send someone
to "

"Hist!"

Jt was Pierre who uttered this sudden
exclamiition, as he started from the fire and
dripped the knife ipon the ground.

*' \V};aL*f. that '• '' he repeated quickly.

Tiieu ha ran ^o the window.

*'indiaxii.« ! Police! White men!" he fairly
gf ret«iued with all the wild terror of a coward who
might now have to face his equals in strength.
TheD he turned back into the room, trembling
and terrified.

278

WilFs " Dwty

[s though he

so difficult

the cruelty

mght of his

Jtewart said.
)oys can face

mb with fear

ve Stewart a

his heart to

DW.

see him, old
idy voice, for
5ee if it were

saying your
et it hurt so
end someone

this sudden
the fire and

ikly.

!" he fairly
I coward who
in strength.
m, trembling

" Quick I Quick ! The boys ! "

He darted to the door that opened at the back
of the house, followed by his two companions,
who were now as madly frightened as their
leader.

They ran a short way up the hill, then
Pierre stopped.

** The boys ! " he exclaimed. " They know
secret — they must not be found alive I Bring
them — quick ! — big papoose first ! "

Not venturing to return to the house himself,
for his hunters could be seen far down the ravine
among the bushes, he preferred his messengers to
take the risk.

Quickly the Indians returned, and as quickly
they slashed the o/pIh ^/hat i)ouii^ Stewar! >i
numb figure. Then the/ OMJff'i' '^ him to whp f
Pierre now stood by the mc/o^ij '^ a forty-fo K
well.

** In ! In ! Put dog in ! " Pierre ^jf^/m^^*^

At this moment Dick and Crewes, (^mfiy
followed by the rest of the man-hunters, reaci^^i
the house.

'* There they are — by the well! " cried Crewes,
rushing up the hill.

Stewart heard the voices.

" Help ! Help ! " he called. " Quick ! " But
the last word was lost in a distant muffled sound,
for at the same instant the Indians plunged him
into the depths of the dark pit.

279

Comrades Three!

":.:

I! L ',

I i

i I ,

¥^

Then Pierre gave another yell when he saw
his pursuers so close upon him. He turned and
ran blindly, heedless of his course. But he
charged straight into the giant arms and bear's
embrace of Cbbf Black Cloud.

" Son of a dog, move, and the arms of Black
Cloud shall crush thy bon\3s as a shell beneath
his heel I " the Indian exclaimed. The half-
breed yielded with a snarl to the master-
strength. Of course Pierre's friends had also
fled. But the place was surrounded by the
Blackfeet, and each in his turn was trapped.

Meanwhile Dick, accompanied by CrcTes and
Calvert, had reached the mouth of the well. A
rope was hanging from a cross-beam with a
bucket at the lower end.

Without a moment's hesitation Dick bent
forward to grip the rope an* I descend. But
Crewes put out a restraining hand.

"This is my duty, Edyvcan. Let mo do thid
much for him ! He did so much for mo." And
without waiting for an answer, the youl h nwung
himself on the thin rope and commenr^d th< long
descent.

" I'm coming, old man ! " he callc/l, tt.s he
de tended. ** It's Crewes — Willie Crewes ! Can
you hear me ? "

"Willie — Crewes?" came a
wonder from the dark depths.

" Yes ; can you hold out ? "

280

muffled echo of

Will's "Duty

^hen he saw
turned and
\se. But he
IS and bear's

|ms of Black
hell beneath
. The half-
the master-
ids had also
ided by the
trapped.
Crepes and
the well. A
^eam with a

I Dick bent
scend. But

t mo do thin
' me." And
youih Mvvung
iced thr long

iUca], «.s he

•ewe» t Can

led echo of

**Fve got grip of a ledge," came the reply.
" It's cold, but I can manage."

Heedless of the cutting of the thin rope that
slashed his flesh as he slowly slid downwards,
Crewes at last reached the water at the foot of
the well.

" Thank God for this, Stewart ! " were his
words, when he saw the boy up to the shoulders
in water, but clinging with his hands to a Mriall
projection of stone. "Thank God you are auvc,
and that I have been able to help in time."

"Is it really Willie Crewes?" questioned
Stewart in wonder,.

** The same. I've come out with my father,
known to you as Reynolds," was the reply, as the
elder boy swung himself on the rope to reach
Stewart's side. " Your honour is cleared,
Stewart. Every person knows that you took my
fault on your shoulders. I've told them. Your
name and Dick's are on the Roll of Honour now,
and, Stewart — Fve kept my promise ! "

And the reply was just as Dick had pro-
phesied —

"Then, I'm glad to have done what I
did ! "

The work of rescue was not an easy matter.
Stewart's right leg had been badly wounded in
the fall, and the immersion in the water, together
with his recent adventures, had left him almost
too weak to grip firmly with his fingers.

281

' i

Comrades Three !

Still hangincj with one hand to th« rope, and
supporting Stewart with his left arm, Orewes
looked up. Far above him could be seen a circle
of faces peering down through a distant circle of
light that was the mouth of the well.

" All well ! " the rescuer called out cheerfully.
*• Lower the rope a bit ! "

Immediately the rope was slackened from
above. Crewes then pressed the bucket with
his feet until it sank into the water. Then he
helpe ^ Stewart to a sitting posture with his
feet iu the bottom, and twisted the rope so that
the sufferer could rest firmly without fear of
overbalancing. Next, he took Stewart's place
in the water, and held on to the ledge, as he
doubted the strength of the rope and the beam
to support more than one.

" Pull away ! " he cried to those above. "Bon
voyage ! " he said cheerfully to Stewart.

Willing hands and strong arms were applied
to the windlass above, and soon the unfortunate
boy was raised to the surface. He was con-
siderably exhausted, but in a much better
condition than might have been expected after
his recent adventures.

Then the rope was Ic 'jed again for Crewes.

This time it took longer to get ready, for the
lad had no one to help him, and his strength
had been considerably sapped by the long
immersion in the water. But at last he obtained

282 • '

Will's " Duty

a footing in the bucket, and gripped the rope
as firmly as his benumbed fingers would allow.

The signal was given to haul away.

Once more the windlass began to creak as
the rope tightened with its burden, and for the
second time that gloomy hole was being forced
to disgorge its prey.

Willie was somewhat heavier than Stewart,
so the upward progress was much slower in this
case. Care had also to be exercised so as not
to put too sudden strains upon the windlass,
which was old and not used to meeting such
heavy demands upon its power.

At last the youth's head appeared above the
rim of the well, and many arms darted forward
to give immediate aid in removing the young
hero from possible danger.

But just at that moment everyone was startled
by hearing an angry cry from Black Cloud, who
had been standing with his prisoner, Pierre, at
the outside of the circle of watchers. So sudden
was the cry that all were too taken aback to
be sufficienly alert to prevent what eventuated.
Filled with fury at all who had taken any share
in frustrating his plans for revenge against
Reynolds, Pierre had suddenly snatched a
hunting-knife from Black Cloud's side, sprung
from the arms that had momentarily relaxed
their hold, and then, with one reckless slash,
he severed the taut rope at the windlass, and

283

f*; ; I

Comrades Three !

plunged poor Crewes back again into the black
depths of the well. A cry of pain that faded
into a pitiful wail with increasing distance came
from the poor boy as he struck against the side
of the pit in his violent descent into lower
darkness — a cr}' that froze the hearers with a
horror impossible to be described. Then all was
silence. Noc a sound came from the well ; not a
sound was uttered by those above. At such
moments one even ceases to breathe, and tho air
itself seems to pause in horror when the great
instincts of humanity are thus recklessly violated.

284

CHAPTER XXVII.

PIERRE S LAST FIGHT.

It.-

^0 sudden had been the half-breed's terrible
^^ act that, for the time being, the onlookers
were stunned with horror.

It was only for a moment, however, that this
state lasted ; but every flash of time is a power
in the service of one who has his life to save.
Pierre gave a savage cry of exultation, and, by
the time any had awakened from their trance, he
had leaped upon Woodrow's horse that was
standing near by and plunged through the wood
of the ravine towards the grassy slope that lay
between this and further woodland.

The awakening was terrible. A shriek went
up from every Indian's throat, and a volley of
bullets made the woodlands echo with the noise
of battle.

But Pierre had placed a shield of trees behind
him, and was now half across the clearing.

Calvert was the first in activity. He sprang
upon his horse.

" Come on, braves ! " he shouted. " Catch the

fiend, and it will be a hundred pounds to him
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who lays him by the heels ! " Then he turned
to Edyvean. " See, Dick ! You've got other
work to do. There's poor Crewes. You leave
this matter to me "

" And me ! " added Woodrow, who had by
this time regained his self-possession. " You'll
lend me your horse, Edyvean 1 "

" Of course," was the reply, as Dick
turned hastily to the mouth of the well and
called down, " Crewes I Crewes I Are you
hurt ? "

" A little — but — I can hold on — for a time 1 "
came the weak, but none the less brave
reply.

" God be praised ! My son lives 1 " exclaimed
old Reynolds fervently.

" God help you and him," added Calvert
solemnly. Then to Dick he said, " Don't take
any undue risks, old man. Stewart and I
cannot have anything happen to you."

" I must go to the one who saved my brother's
life," replied Edyvean.

"And I must lay my hands on the fiend who
tried to slay it ! " responded Fred with sudden
energy. "Off you go, Bess!" Then he dug
his spurs into the sides of his mare, and hastened
to make up to Woodrow and the score of braves
who were already swarming along the hillside
in pursuit of the fugitive.

On emerging from the ravine, which was

286

■ ■: i fc^..J? T! ! g Hir- »»' J

en he turned
i^e got other
You leave

who had by
on. " You'll

as Dick
he well and
; 1 Are you

-for a time 1 "
less brave

1 " exclaimed

dded Calvert
, " Don't take
ewart and I

)U.''

[ my brother's

the fiend who
with sudden

Then he dug
and hastened

core of braves

g the hillside

3, which was

i*.

«*■-■
l(j>'

t-.'v

•j\

Pierre's Last Fight

a fork pointing up the hill with a grassy slope
between the prongs, Calvert and the police
officer just caught sight of Pierre as the latter
disappeared into the opposite bush.

Just as the half-breed was vanishing,
Woodrow rose in his saddle and tried a quick
sight along his rifle. But Dick's horse was not
accustomed to police ways. The presented rifle
disconcerted her and spoiled the aim so that the
bullet sped on a harmless course.

An exclamation of disgust came from the
sergeant, for he knew that now the fugitive
gained the cover of the trees the chances of
speedy capture were considerably lessened. It
would be like pursuing a chipmunk among its
familiar branches.

"Never mind," said Calvert, as he noticed
his companion's chagrin. "With so many
of us at his heels, we are bound to find
him. He can't reach far with so many on the
search."

"That's all you know!" snapped Woodrow,
thoroughly out of humour with himself and
everybody else on account of his failure. It was
not only his failure with the rifle that had put
him out, but he was troubled concerning his
unprecedented carelessness in not securing
Pierre in the first place, and so preventing the
incidents that followed. It was an unpardon-
able error of judgment to trust an unshackled

287

qk-

H;i-

ii ;.

■m-/'

; ::'

rn-

Comrades Three!

prisoner even in the strongest hands. And so
the sergeant's prestige as one who never fails
had received a severe blow.

By this time the pursuers had reached the
further fork of the ravine. The Indians had
disappeared among the greenery with the swift-
ness of serpents, and Woodrow's voice now rang
out commanding all to spread out and search
each bush and hollow.

It was, of course, impossible to ride further.
Dick and Woodrow dismounted and hurriedly
fastened their horses to trees. The half-
breed had naturally deserted his stolen steed as
soon as he reached the bush. It was found
close to where the fugitive had been last
seen.

But of Pierre not a sign was apparent, and
not a sound came from the Indians to indicate
that they had come upon his trail. Some of the
natives came back to examine the place where
the horse had been found. They crawled on the
ground ; they examined every inch of ground,
every twig, every blade of grass. But all to no
purpose. Pierre had disappeared as completely
as if he had suddenly vanished into the
air.

** Spread out, you brainless papooses ! "
exclaimed Woodrow. " Call yourselves braves,
and yet you let a skunk like that escape through
your fingers 1 Papooses, women, every one of

286

ds. And ao
never fails

reached the
Indians had
th the swift-
Lce now rang
t and search

ride further.

nd hurriedly

The half-

E^jolen steed as
t was found
1 been last

apparent, and
IS to indicate
Some of the
! place where
rawled on the
h of ground,
But all to no
IS completely
id into the

papooses ! "
lelves braves,
icape through
every one of

€

Pierre's Last Fight

you ! Cover the ravine with your eyes unless
you want to be known as the owls of the
prairie ! "

Egged on by the taunts (which were hardly
fair — but few men are fair when they are angry),
the young Indians dispersed once more, and
were soon lost to sight among the trees. Then
Woodrow turned to Calvert in a quieter tone
now that h's anger had spent itself a little in
words.

" You stay here by the horses, please, while
I follow the course of the ravine a little way.
I know of a small cave where our man might
have taken cover. It is only a chance, but it
will not do to neglect anything that may lead to
recapture."

" Shall I not come with you ? " asked
Fred.

"Better not. There is always the chance that
he may be concealed close at hand, and it would
be folly to leavo a horse for his pleasure. I'll
not be long. If I find no trace of him, we can
then decide what course to take next. It may
mean that we will have to burn him out, for
I don't intend to leave him all night to his own
sweet devices."

So saying, the officer went off on his errand.
Calvert remained on guard, as desired, and when
at last Woodrow returned, the sergeant had no
success to report.

'Nil I

iil

Comrades Three !

** Not a sign of the varmint ! Not so much as
a blade of grass out of its place," was his
verdict.

" Perhaps he has managed to escape out
of the ravine in some other direction," was
Calvert's suggestion. But the other man
disagreed.

" Impossible. The Indians would have been
sure to have spotted him. They were not so far
behind him that he could risk leaving the cover
of the ravine. To my mind his intention is
obvious. He meant to creep down the ravine
towards the river and the thick woods. Once
there, there would be a possibility of eluding us
for weeks, if not for all time. I have sent a
bunch of hunters down to the neck of the fork
to intercept him there. He cannot possibly
escape in the long run. The puzzle is, where
has he got to in this short time ? "

Yes, it was indeed a puzzle. But it need not
have been such a mystery if all tht would-be
captors had not been steeped in the traditions of
the prairie, and confined their searching to the
traditional mode of seeking foot-prints. Pierre's
disappearance had certainly been complete. Yet
it was all simple enough, as was afterwards
proved. All he had done was to swing himself
from the saddle of the stolen broncho up to the
strong branch of a thick maple tree, and thence
to the shelter of a curtain of leaves. The half-

290

so much as
le," was his

escape out
fection," was
other man

have been

sre not so far

ig the cover

intention is

I the ravine

oods. Once

f eluding us

have sent a

I of the fork

not possibly

de is, where

t it need not
iht would-be
traditions of
3hing to the
its. Pierre's
nplete. Yet
3 afterwards
wing himself
ho up to the
, and thence
. The half-

Pierre's Last Fight

breed knew well the people with whom he had
to deal, and while expert trackers were smelling
every inch of the ground beneath, he was quietly
making his way above from tree to tree in the
direction of the friendly wood in the bosom of
the valley. With the agility of a monkey
he did this — still retaining Black Cloud's
hunting-knife which he carried between his
teeth.

But it was a tiny agent of justice that betrayed
the fugitive. Where men's brains failed, a small
bird succeeded and gave the alarm. Finding her
nest approached by a strange and terrifying
creature, she set up a shrill scream of alarm.
Every Indian knows that sound, which frequently
warns them of the approach or an enemy that
might otherwise have come upon them unawares.
Instantly they ran in the direction of the sound,
looked up, and there just discerned the outline
of a dark figure high above their heads, vainly
trying to conceal himself among the dense
arborage.

Instantly, a howl of anger and satisfaction
came from the throats of the discoverers, and
Pierre's heart sank, for he knew that it was but
a matter of time before he would once again
be in the hands of the police ofl&cer. Yet he
prepared to sell his freedom dearly, and his
face distorted with anger as he saw one of
the redskins, Yellow Bear by name, leap

291

■1 t

*iL* ^

I /

1^ ^^■

liii

h^j

Comrades Three !

for the tree and commence a rapid ascent
towards him.

At first the half-breed ran along a thick
branch in the hope of iinding greater security.
But already his pursuers were swarming up on
all sides like so many monkeys. He gave a cry
of baffled fury, then receded to his former
position at the centre of the tree where he
would be able to make the most effective
resistance against his nearing enemy. There
they met, and with the fury of a panther
Pierre clinched the young brave. The knife
was still between his teeth. As yet he had
not ventured to hcndle it. All his fingers
had been required to keep himself from toppling
from his perch.

"Ah, son of a dog ! You fight for white
man — you fight for police ! " he roared, as he
closed with his foe, and in a moment more the
two were grappling wildly with their hands,
while their legs were twined around the upright
branches to steady themselves.

Hearing the cries, Calvert and Woodrow were
soon on the spot — the former with his Winchester
ready to carry its death warrant, if need be.
Yellow Bear was strong and brave, but he was
no match for the half-breed to whose wiry
muscles desperation had lent double strength ;
and just as the white men reached the foot of
the tree, Pierre was heard to give a cry of

292 v' ':

ipid ascent

'ng a thick
er security,
ing up on
gave a cry
his former
where he
st effective
ay. There
a panther
The knife
yet he had
his fingers
)m toppling

t for white
ared, as he
it more the
heir hands,
the upright

odrow were
Winchester
if need be.
but he was
irhose wiry
s strength ;
the foot of
' a cry of

Iv.

Pierre's Last Fight

triumph as he succeeded in burying his fingers
in the Indian's throat.

The sergeant raised his rifle to fire, but
immediately lowered it pgain.

" No use. Must wait until the Indian is done
for. Then I'll be able to get a bead on the
half-breed," was his calm remark. It was
the policeman, pure and simple, who was
speaking — one whose sole aim was to take
his prisoner dead or alive, and at any cost.
It is not to be supposed that he was really
heartless or indifferent to life in the ordin-
ary way. But there are some men who
become so full of the plain duties of their
profession that they unconsciously become
indifferent to the means by which these duties
are accomplished. Woodrow was one of these
persons. Such training often makes successful
policemen, i.e. — successful keepers of order.
But it also sometimes rather spoils what we
understand by the word Man.

Woodrow's callous remarks came rather as a
shock to Calvert.

** What ! " he exclaimed with a certain degree
of horror. " You don't mean to say that you
are going to wait calmly and let that fiend
throttle the Indian ! "

** I guess that's about what it amounts to,"
was the reply. " We can't do much for him
now ; I can't get an aim while they're twisting

293

Comrades Three !

y.t"

< ■:(!':

about like that, and / don't w .nt to shoot the
redskin."

This was too much for the Cornishman.

" Well, whatever you may choose to ' guess,'
that isn't my way of looking at things ! I'm
hanged if I'm going to stand by and allow even
a redskin to be strangled simply to make a
clear target for your rifle."

Hardly were the words out of the speaker's
mouth, than the young fellow had sprung for
the lower branch of the maple and swung him-
self up with the ease that had long since been
acquired in the " gym." at Dunmere, and from
thence he began to clamber rapidly upwards just
as the brave had done before him.

" Look out for yourself 1 He's got a knive 1 "
cried Woodrow warningly. Then he added
to himself: ** It's a pity that I am only a
policeman pledged to take a prisoner at all
costs."

But Calvert, in his haste, had no ears for the
warning, far less for the after-remarks. All his
attention was directed upwards, and all he
heard were the wild cries of the half-breed and
the choking gurgles from Yellow Bear who
was writhing under the terrible grip upon his
throat.

By this time the surrounding trees were
swarming with Indians, but they seemed too
awe-struck with the scene of the desperate fight

294

o shoot the

man.

to 'guess,'
lings ! I'm

allow even
to make a

le speaker's
sprung for
3wung him-
l since been
e, and from
ip wards just

)t a knive I "

he added

am only a

oner at all

ears for the
zs. All his
md all he
f-breed and
Bear who
p upon his

trees were
seemed too
perate fight

Pierre's Last Fight

to be capable of giving any assistance to their
brother.

Higher and yet higher Calvert clambered.
He was quite fifty feet above ground, and he
was quite breathless when he reached the sway-
branch at the shoulder of which the combatants
were struggling. Fortunately his approach had
been unnoticed by Pierre, and he was able to
pause for a brief rest. Then he tried to reach
his revolver, but that was an impossibility, for
the branch swung as though before the force of
a hurricane and all limbs were needed to retain a
position.

By this time poor Yellow Bear was beginning
to hang limp under the cruel grip that was
twisting his throat and rapidly squeezing the
life out of an almost lifeless body.

Then Calvert suddenly made his presence
known.

'* Pierre ! " he cried.

Instantly the half-breed started as a man
might start at a bullet. A new fear seemed to
seize him, and his fingers relaxed their grip of
the now insensible Indian, who fell backwards
across two friendly branches that saved him from
a fall that would assuredly have completed
what his enemy had three parts accomplished.

" You, white dog ! " Pierre hissed furiously.
At the same time his face paled as he saw how
completely he had been surrounded and trapped

295

Comrades Three !

;i.

i '

■I

while his mind had been obsessed with his recent
struggle.

" You are as good as taken. You had better
give in ! " said Calvert. With the cessation of
the fight he had managed to steady himself,
and his fingers were even on the butt of his
revolver that would soon bring the assassin to
reason.

But Pierre was not so easily conquered and
his answer was swift though unspoken. With
a movement as swift as a flasii of lightning, he
plucked the sharp-pointed knife from between
his teeth, and hurled it towards Calvert like an
arrow from the bowstring. But in an instant
after, he uttered a shriek of agony, for a lithe sprig
had caught the handle of the weapon, diverted
its flight backwards again, and plunged it straight
into the throat of the thrower.* One second he
poised upright upon the branch ; the next he fell
backwards — crashing through leaves and wood,
until the life was dashed out of him upon the
hard ground right at Woodrow's feet.

It was a horrible end to a horrible life. But
perhaps it was just that he, who had years of
blood staining his hands, should himself suffer a
penalty of violence. Of that we cannot judge,
and it is good to know that his last attempt at
murder failed. Yellow Bear was soon recovered
from his perilous position by his friends, and in

* This incident really occurred within the author's knowledge.

296

£m:

Pierre's Last Fight

a short time was restored, being little the worse
for his adventure. Then the man-hunters
returned to Reynolds' homestead, bearing with
them a burden that would never more be able to
break the laws of God or man.

Thus was Pierre's revenge completed, for it fell
back upon himself as evil purposes and deeds
always revert to the door. Revenge on our
neighbour usually ends in revenge upon self,
just as good deeds seldom fail to bring their own
reward.

297

mn\-r

iUC.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

COMRADES ALL I

'T^HERE is little more to tell, for the present.
Such as there is, it can be given in few
words.

When the chase after Pierre was started, leav-
ing the others to help poor Crewes, as well as guard
Pierre's two accomplices whom Black Cloud's
braves had roped and tied to a waggon wheel,
then Arty soon procured a couple of good lariats
to replace the rope of the windlass. No time was
lost before Dick Edyvean had the lassos in posi-
tion with a stcut bucket at the end. Then he
quickly descended to the assistance of his old
schoolfellow. He found Crewes very weak. A
broken arm and severe gash on the back of his
head had been the result of the fall. But the
boy was plucky withal, and able to give Dick
some little assistance in the matter of rescue.
Soon afterwards he was brought to the surface
and carried indoors, where his injuries were
attended to by his father. Life in the West
soon teaches one the elements of surgery, and a
doctor could hardly have done better for the lad

298

■ i f

,'.":.

Comrades All !

than did Reynolds with Black Cloud as an able
assistant.

Then Calvert and Woodrow returned, followed
by the Blackfeet Braves, and in a short time a
waggon was got ready, and the Sergeant (assisted
by two Indians) started off for Regina Barracks,
together with their two prisoners and the remains
of their leader.

Later in the day, the Dunmere friends together
with Reynolds and Arty went direct to the
Edyvean ranch, though it was not before they
had promised a handsome reward to the braves
for their services, and expressed their unbounded
thanks to Black Cloud — all of which the chief
received with a modesty that is akin to indiffer-
ence. It is always thus with brave men.

And that night, how tongues did wag ! Old
Reynolds told the whole story of his whole life
from its sad beginning up to what, let us hope,
would prove to be happier days. Willie Crewes
had also his yarn to spin, and in time the evening
was devoted to tales and memories of the grand
old days at Dunmere.

At last Fred Calvert cleared his throat as if
for a speech, and looked at the gathered friends
with an important air.

'* Now that all these mysteries are cleared up,
I have a proposal to make before we turn in for
the night. And what is more, you have all got
to agree to it before you turn in ! I have made

299

It*

.Jflfltflli ^'

ivii

Comrades Three !

up my mind, so I do not intend to have any
denial. "

"What is it?" asked Stewart, voicing the
questions of all.

" Simply this : Let us all combine our forces
and start a * Dunmere Ranch ! ' Let us make it
the largest and best in the West for the sake of
the old days that made us chums. Real school
chums ought to be comrades for life 1 Is it
not so?"

This proposal was received with enthusiasm,
and from that moment began a new era in the
lives of our friends that has nothing to do with
our present story but which makes a fitting place
to end our present one.

And any stranger who visits that part of the
West to-day will hear " Dunmere " spoken of in
tones of admiration, and, sometimes, envy. It
is a model ranch of its kind, and prosperous as
only such undertakings can be when guided by
friends of single purpose and mutual aflfection.

Many wonder how such a strong combination
ever came into being.

Until they read this book, they will not
understand.

LORIMER AND CHALMERS PRINTERS BUINBURGH.

jnd to have any

/art, voicing the

)mbine our forces
' Let us make it
jt for the sake of
ms. Real school
for life I Is it

with enthusiasm,

a new era in the

)thing to do with

ikes a fitting place

that part of the
ere " spoken of in
letimes, envy. It
and prosperous as
3 when guided by
autual affection,
brong combination

k, they will not

IS EDINBURGH.