Part 8

When Barton explained to Ranger the object of his journey, which he did as they drove home, it was one of such common occurrence that it left no impression upon his mind as to there being anything peculiar in it.

*CHAPTER XIX.*

*HESITATING.*

"... At this hour Lie at my mercy all mine enemies." _The Tempest_, Act IV. sc. i.

When, in due course, Barton's letter reached Broadstone, the astonishment and surprise it gave rise to was beyond all description. The excitement it created in the breasts of the partners was intense. Old memories were aroused with regard to incidents long since regarded as for ever buried.

The circumstances under which they were now revived seemed to possess more the character of fiction than fact. Yet the details given, and the circumstantial nature of the narration, seemed to preclude all possibility of doubt.

What ought to be the action of the firm in the matter now? This was the problem which faced them, demanding a decision,--but a decision which they found themselves unable to agree upon.

It was therefore wisely resolved to leave the matter where it was at present, and to return to the subject later on, after each had been able to think out what was the best course to pursue.

A week went by, during which the solicitors to the firm had been seen and consulted. Their advice was friendly, but cautious. Whilst from a strictly legal point of view it might be right to take steps to have the culprit arrested and prosecuted, perfectly legitimate reasons could be adduced for taking no notice of the letter and refraining from any action in the matter.

Their advice was to have inquiries made, through their agents in Ontario, as to the truth of the information forwarded, and the character of the writer of the letter; as well as to learn, if possible, his object in writing. It was pointed out that this need not involve any very great expense, and on the information received they could then decide how to act.

They resolved to follow this advice, especially as the further delay would afford additional opportunity for reflection.

Acting upon instructions received, their solicitors wrote their agents in Quebec, by the next outward mail, giving a full account of their client's case, and requesting them to obtain, through the agency of the police--or by any other means, if considered more desirable: The character of Ranger, his holding and belongings, and his status in the country; whether anyone known as Fellows--but whose real name was Ralph Sinclair--was at present in his employ; the date when he came there; where he came from; what position he was filling; and the reputation he was held in.

The same information as to a Charles Barton; and, as this was the person sending certain information with regard to the first named, to ascertain to what extent they associated, and, if possible, the causes which had induced him to reveal what he had done about the man known as Fellows.

It was specially enjoined that the information was to be obtained with the greatest caution, as on no account must it leak out that these inquiries were being made from England.

As the matter seemed to be one possessing features of interest which might lead to important developments, the agents lost no time in seeking an interview with the chief of police; who, after a careful perusal of the letter from their correspondents, promised he would write for full information to their headquarters staff at Regina, who would no doubt be able to get what was wanted.

In the attitude taken up by the great firm of Quinion towards their former employe, there was no feeling of vindictiveness manifested. They had, in fact, never yet been known to prosecute a defaulting servant, although many opportunities had offered for so doing. Their leniency towards men who had been detected defrauding them had almost become proverbial, so that they were beginning to look upon it themselves as a matter of reproach.

The members of the firm were men of high principle, anxious not only to stand well in the public gaze, but desirous that their motives should be beyond suspicion. They were nominally religious men, but making no very pronounced profession of their opinions and beliefs. Crooked and perverse as the treatment of their London employes had been, their conduct was so surrounded with sophisms for arguments, that shadows had assumed substantial form, and they seemed to have persuaded themselves, if not others, that in all that they had done they had been guided only by the highest principles of moral rectitude, leaving nothing of which they need feel ashamed.

Burns has very aptly said--

"Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us To see oursel's as others see us! It wad frae monie a blunder free us And foolish notion."

They had not lost sight of the mother of Sinclair,--or Fellows, as we must continue to call him,--since their first impulse was to acquaint her with what they had heard.

Upon reflection, they felt it would be wiser to wait until, with the fresh light which they hoped to receive as the result of the inquiries set on foot, their mind was better made up as to the course they ought to pursue.

*CHAPTER XX.*

*ON THE TRAIL.*

"Thou art a fellow of a good report, Thy life hath had some snatch of honour in it." _Julius Caesar_, Act V. sc. v.

Regina, which, prior to the advent of the Great Trunk Line of the Canadian Pacific Railway, was possessed of but a few straggling log-shanties--the rough dwellings of settlers and squatters, the early pioneers in the great North-West of those civilising forces which are marching with so much rapidity across the face of the American Continent--is not only the principal town, but has the honour of being the capital of the province and the seat of the legislature.

Yet, rejoicing in a population of not more than some two thousand, it is making such rapid advances as bids fair to raise it, in a very little while, to a position of importance and pre-eminence.

The mounted police have here their headquarters, and it was therefore in the order of things official, as well as natural, that the inquiry set on foot at Quebec should be forwarded to this little but important centre for further elucidation.

To John Stone, or "Puffey," as the name by which he is best known, was entrusted the task of obtaining the required information.

The work, although of an eminently peaceful character, was beset with no ordinary difficulties, from the secrecy with which the information had to be obtained.

Taking Nat Langham's Store on his route, he soon found himself in the midst of a company of the roughest and lowest of the labouring-class population of the district. Smoking, drinking, gambling, and betting, were the usual order of proceedings; occasionally varied by a free fight, in which the use of knives and firearms were not unknown.

Beyond a few brief glances from carelessly turned heads--the usual greeting to a fresh-comer--but little notice was taken of his advent into their midst. Calling for a liquor, and lighting his pipe, he joined a group at one of the tables, where play was in progress, and soon became an apparently interested spectator.

Presently one of the players, turning to Stone, asked--

"What are they going to do with Red Dick, Puffey?"

"Oh, he is of too much importance to be dealt with by the authorities hereabouts."

"What! do they intend sending him up to Quebec?"

"Yes," replied Puffey; "and there he'll stand a very poor chance."

After a pause, "What do you know about him?" inquired Puffey.

"I don't know the fellow, and don't want to," was the rejoinder. "I only felt interested because I was with the force when he was caught."

"Oh, I see! you were one of the volunteer force that aided the police."

"That's so, sonny."

"What was the name of him who took command of the volunteer force? Do you remember him?"

"Yes, very well. It was a chap named Fellows, at Ranger's."

"Not been hereabouts long, has he?" inquired Puffey indifferently.

"Not above six or seven months, I believe," was the reply.

"Came from England, I think we were told?"

"Yes."

"He seemed to understand his business very well. Know much about him?"

"I only know that he is said to be on friendly terms with Ranger, and is believed to be rather sweet on one of the women on his station."

"Is that so?" added Puffey. "Then the fellow hasn't lost much time."

"Well, I can't say for certain," continued the speaker, "as I work on a neighbouring farm; but I heard one of my mates talking a while ago about him."

Puffey felt that here, at all events, was a source from whence some useful information might in all probability be gathered, but he was anxious not to appear too eager, for fear of exciting unnecessary inquiry.

Allowing the conversation to drop, he sat and watched the players until the one he had held converse with gave signs of intending departure.

Rising from his seat, Puffey sauntered out of the store, and lounged about for a while until he saw the other come out, when, accosting him, he said--

"Look here, mate, I should like to have a word or two with you, if you can spare a few moments."

"All right, Puffey," replied the fellow; "say on."

"You were speaking of a girl on Ranger's farm that the chap Fellows was supposed to be sweet on. Now, as there is one on the same farm that I have had my eye upon for some time, you'll understand the interest I may appear to be taking in this matter. I should like to know the name of the girl referred to, if you can tell me?"

"Oh! is that how the wind blows?" laughed the other.

"Well, I don't want you to go blabbing about the matter; we've all got soft moments in our lives."

"Never fear, my boy! Jack Hart's not the chap to spoil sport."

"Call it sport if you like, but tell me who is the girl this Fellows is after?"

"Her name is Jess Russell. She is the daughter of one of Ranger's men; and they do say as fine a looking specimen of the sex as is to be found in the North-West."

"That's not the one I was thinking about. I don't know her; but beauty though she maybe, I'll back my girl to go one better."

"Poor old Puffey! Hit at last! I shouldn't have thought it of you."

"Well, it's not a case yet; so mind what I've said, that 'mum's' the word."

"Right you are! Nor is it a clear case yet with that Fellows, as it is said a chap named Barton has been noticed sneaking round after the same girl."

"Oh," was Puffey's comment; "then there's likely to be ructions there before long, if that's the case."

"Just as likely as not," was the reply. "Well, good-night, Puffey. I must be going."

"So long, old chap," was his parting salute, as Puffey mounted his horse and rode away, feeling that he had learned one thing from what he had heard, and that was the cause which had led up to Barton's letter.

The next day Puffey, pursuing his quest, ventured to ride boldly up to Ranger's homestead and inquire for Fellows by name. He was told he was at work in the fields, but on receiving directions where he was to be found, and how he might know him, he resolved to go in search of Fellows, first stating, in order to allay any fears as to his motives, that he was commissioned by his officer personally to thank him for the part he had taken in the recent raid.

After a rather extended search, he at length came across his man, out on a distant part of the prairie cutting corn.

Some astonishment was naturally manifested at the sight of a member of the mounted police inquiring for one of the workers on the farm.

There are certain people who are seldom regarded as welcome visitors. A man never hears that a policeman is inquiring for him without a feeling of uneasiness beginning to steal over him, he could not perhaps tell why, although all the time perfectly conscious that there was no need to be at all apprehensive as to his object.

With Fellows it was different, since, although he had no reason to think that his secret had been discovered, there was his own consciousness of guilt, ever present, and ready to start into activity at the first symptoms of coming danger.

Puffey--like the keen observer he was reputed to be--did not fail to note the start which Fellows gave when he heard his name inquired for.

His sunburnt countenance did not, however, betray his momentary agitation. Recovering his self-control, he advanced at once to the constable, and looking steadily in his face, in a clear voice, unmarked by the least tremor, exclaimed--

"My name is Fellows. What do you want with me?"

"You see who I am, Mr. Fellows; not always the most welcome of visitors?"

"That's true, sir, no doubt; but I have no reason to regard you as unwelcome."

"Nor will you," added Puffey, "when you learn the object of my visit."

The men who were working with Fellows had ceased their labours, and were crowding round to hear what the detective had to say.

"I am commissioned by the Major," said Puffey, "who commanded the force which recently made that successful raid, ending in the capture of Red Dick, to return you his thanks for the very valuable aid rendered him on that occasion, in the promptness with which his orders were carried out, and for the precision with which the duties you undertook were discharged. He fully recognises that the success of that enterprise was in no small measure due to the alertness and cohesion of your force, as well as to the able way in which that force was handled by you."

"Many of these men," replied Fellows, "standing round me, were present on the occasion referred to, and in their name, as well as my own, you may tell the Major that, whilst warmly thanking him for the flattering words addressed to us, we were all only too pleased to serve with so brave a force as the men he brought to lead us."

"That ends my mission with you," said Puffey. "Not a very terrifying one, you must admit."

Presently he added, as if a new idea had suddenly struck him, "Are you satisfied with your present occupation?"

"Yes; don't I look as if I was?" he asked.

"It was only a passing thought, which that moment occurred to me; you are just the sort of chap we could very well do with in our force. Would you care to join us?"

"No such idea has ever entered my head, and I don't feel as if I should much care for the life."

"Well, I've no authority to ask you, but you might think it over."

"No harm in my doing that," he replied.

"How old are you, if it is not a rude question to ask?" said the constable.

"Just turned twenty-nine."

"English, I judge?"

"Yes."

"Been long in the Colony?"

"Only about seven months."

"Any trade or profession?"

"Was a commercial in the Old Country."

"Married or single?"

"Single."

"Hope to remain so?"

"That depends on circumstances."

"You'll excuse my being so inquisitive, but I wished to make sure you were qualified for the post I just now suggested to you; and from all you tell me, I have no reason to doubt but our people would only be too pleased to accept you if you choose to apply."

"Thanks; I'll think about it."

"A question sure to be asked, and therefore one I may as well put: Any special reason for changing a commercial life for an agricultural one?"

"N--o; except that I was not getting on as well as I should have liked, and so determined to make an entire change."

Puffey noticed that this last answer was not given quite so promptly as the replies to his other questions had been, from which fact he was not slow to draw his own conclusions.

It suited his purpose to induce the belief in Fellows' mind, that the mounted police presented a good opening for the employment of his abilities; but that it was an opinion likely to find support in official quarters, should application be made for an appointment, was a matter of no moment to him whatever.

Quitting the track, by which the small towns along the line of the railway were usually reached, he started to return by a cross-cut over the open prairie with which he was familiar, in the hope that by so doing he might possibly come across farm-hands from whom something further could be learned.

He had not proceeded far, before he saw three men seated beneath the shade of a sheltering clump of trees bordering a small stream not above three to four feet deep, and therefore easily fordable. The spot selected was a small hollow, thickly covered with that short crisp variety of grass known as "buffalo grass," on which they were now resting after partaking of the usual midday meal.

Riding up to where they were seated, he saluted them with--

"Good-day, comrades! Do you remember me?"

"No fear, Puffey, after once seen."

"You were with us at the capture of Red Dick, I think?"

"Two of us were."

"Ah, I have just been over and seen Fellows, to thank him, and all who were with him, for the excellent help rendered to the police on that occasion."

"What will be done with the prisoner?"

"That will be decided at Quebec."

"Have they sent him there?"

"Yes."

"Then he has not much chance left."

"Well, we shall see."

"You say you saw Fellows?" the men inquired.

"Yes; he's a smart chap, and I have been trying to persuade him to join our force."

"What next? Is he inclined to do it?"

"I can't say yet. He has promised to think the matter over, which is all I could expect at first."

"And I hope it will end there; he's too good a pal to lose."

"Do you know much about him then? Has he been here long?"

"Not many months, but he is good company, plenty to talk about, and inclined to be sociable."

"Does he bear a good character?"

"We know nothing about him before he came here, but we have never heard a word against him since he has been amongst us."

Evidently there was nothing to be gained by pursuing this conversation, so shortly after he wished them "Good day," and rode off.

On the whole, he felt satisfied with the result of his inquiries. He had not added much that was new, but what he had heard tended to confirm that which was already known.

He would like to have scraped together a little more knowledge of Barton, but he had been afraid to inquire, there being no good opening given him to do so.

*CHAPTER XXI.*

*JESSIE RUSSELL.*

"It is my lady; O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were!" _Romeo and Juliet_, Act II. sc. ii.

"Now, Jess, buck up, my girl! I've brought a companion home with me to-night to have a bit of supper and a smoke, so look alive."

"All right, dad! Don't make a fuss about such a trifle," was the response.

"Come along, Fellows; don't stand outside like that, man alive! Come in, and make yourself at home."

The frugal board was soon spread with the customary evening meal, which Russell and his daughter were in the habit of partaking alone, but which on the evening in question he had invited Fellows to join them in.

When this was finished, the table cleared, and the pipes lighted, the woman's fingers found full employment upon garments which needed repairing, whilst the men occupied their time in discussing the events of the day, only occasionally allowing those of the larger outer world to engage their attention, since those were matters about which they heard at very irregular intervals.

Fellows had not yet found that convenient opportunity he had given Ranger to understand he was waiting for, that he might make Jessie the confidante of his most cherished desires.

And now, with the father present, he did not feel that this was an opportune moment.

"Puffey was telling me yesterday about the proposal he had made to you of joining their force. Do you intend giving that proposal any serious consideration?"

"Well, I scarcely know," laughingly replied Fellows.

"But you don't mean to say the prospect it holds out is better than the one before you here?"

"No, I don't think it is. The only charm about it is the excitement it offers."

"There may be some attraction in that to a single man, with youth and health in front of him; but the advance is slow and uncertain, and the life somewhat precarious."

"Surely you are not thinking of leaving us so soon?" chimed in Jessie, with just a shade of eagerness in her tone.

"I can hardly say that," said Fellows thoughtfully. "But the life here is so dull and monotonous, I must have a change of some sort. I want excitement. I feel at times as if I should go mad!"

"Isn't there any of the men you can make companions of, to spend an occasional evening with?"

"Well, I am afraid not; they don't seem quite my style."

"What about the Bartons? I should have thought that one or both of those would have just been about your mark."

"I don't dislike the elder of the two men," said Fellows, "but I can't say I like the younger one."

"Now you mention him," replied Russell, "he certainly does not impress one very favourably. He never has much to say for himself, and seldom joins in our conversation."

"Women are stupid creatures, you'll say, and jump to all manner of ridiculous conclusions," said Jessie; "but for all that I must say I don't like him. There's something about the man's look and manner which makes me feel queer whenever I see him."

Fellows looked up with a smile, as he said, "I don't think women such stupid creatures; they have a sort of power, which we men do not appear to possess, called intuition, which enables them to form conclusions a great deal more rapidly than the members of the opposite sex; and, what is more to the point, their rapidly formed conclusions are less frequently wrong than are the more laboured ones which we indulge ourselves in delivering, often with a great assumption of authority, more impressive than the argument or its conclusion."

"Wisely spoken, Sir Oracle!" exclaimed Russell, as he clapped his hands together by way of indicating his approval; whilst Jessie's eyes sparkled as she listened to his defence of her sex.

"But we are getting off the track," remarked Fellows. "We were talking about what I was likely to be doing; and on that point, I will frankly confess, I have not yet made up my mind."

"Then don't be in any hurry to do that which may involve a life-long repentance," said Russell.

"Changing the subject," remarked Fellows, "what's your opinion of Barton's project?"

"What? as to going to the Yukon?"

"Yes."

"Why, I think if they are wise they'll stay where they are."

"But it appears to be a wonderful country; and has the greatest seal and salmon fisheries, with cod-banks that beat those of Newfoundland."

"That may be all very true," responded Russell, "if fishing be the object in view; but a man has got to stand the climate."

"No doubt that's a difficulty."

"I should rather think so, if what I read is true, that the ground in certain parts is frozen to a depth of two hundred feet."

"The search for gold must be hard work under such conditions."

"The rapid changes, too, must be awfully trying," added Russell. "Some days it is so warm that one may fairly roast, whilst the next day you would be looking for your overcoat."

"All which goes to show that only the sound and healthy should risk the dangers which undoubtedly will have to be faced."

"Men born in southern latitudes are said to have become insane through the long darkness which prevails."

"Well," said Fellows, "although it is true that hundreds have been driven back, unable to endure the hardships of the place, whilst as many more have been starved or frozen to death, yet I should not at all mind risking my chance if I saw any way of getting there."

"Of course, how to get out is the difficulty; the expenses are so great that a little fortune is needed to begin with."