did. Mightn't have taken the trouble to inquire, but that I found close

beside it a silver match-box. It was pretty well worn, but anyone who will look at it close can read that it was given to H. Ormesby. Considering the prisoner must have dropped it there, I handed both to the police."

When Niven mentioned the match-box I started as though struck by a bullet. It was mine, undoubtedly, and most of my neighbors had seen it. That it was damning evidence in conjunction with the oil-tin, and had been deliberately placed there for my undoing, I felt certain. There was a half-audible murmur in the court while the judge examined the articles, and I read traces of bewilderment and doubt in the faces turned towards me. That these men should grow suspicious roused me to a sense of unbearable injury, and I sent my voice ringing through the court. "It is an infamous lie! I lost the match-box, or it was stolen from me with a purpose, a month after the fire."

The judge dropped his note-book, the prosecutor smiled significantly; but I saw that the men from the prairie believed me, and that was very comforting. Something resembling a subdued cheer arose from various parts of the building.

"Silence!" said the judge sternly. "An interruption is neither admissible nor seemly, prisoner. You will be called on in turn."

"We need not trouble about the prisoner's denial, which was perhaps natural, if useless, because the witness' statement will be fully borne out by the man who was present when he found the match-box," said the lawyer for the Crown. "I will now call Sergeant Mackay again."

Mackay's terse testimony was damaging, and aroused my further indignation. I had not expected that he would either conceal or enlarge upon anything that would tell against me; but had anticipated some trace of reluctance, or that he would wait longer for questions between his admissions. Instead, he stood rigidly erect, and reeled off his injurious testimony more like a speaking automaton than a human being.

"A trooper warned me that he had seen a reflected blaze in the sky," he said. "We mounted and rode over to Gaspard's Trail. Arriving there I found a number of men, including the owner, Niven, and the prisoner. Niven said the place was not insured. They were unable to do anything. I see no need to describe the fire. The house was past saving; but the ranchers, with the prisoner among them, broke into the burning stable to bring out the horses, which had been overlooked, and found the hired man, Wilkins, partly suffocated in a stall. He was badly injured, but bore out the owner's statement that lamps and stove were safe when they retired.

"I proceeded to question the spectators. Knew them all as men of good character, and as they had newly ridden in, saw no reason to suspect more than one in case the fire was not accidental. Asked Niven whom he first met, and he said it was the prisoner, shortly after the fire broke out. Stated he met him slipping through the shadow of a shed, and the prisoner refused to assist him. Was not surprised at this, knowing the prisoner bore Niven little goodwill since the latter bought his property. Had heard him threaten him and another man supposed to be connected with him in the purchase of Gaspard's Trail."

"What reason have you to infer that any other man was concerned in the purchase of Gaspard's Trail?" asked the prosecutor; and Mackay answered indifferently:

"It was just popular opinion that he was finding Niven the money."

"We need not trouble about popular opinion," said the lawyer somewhat hurriedly. "We will now proceed to the testimony of the hired man, Thomas Wilkins."

Thomas Wilkins was called for several times, but failed to present himself, and a trooper who hurried out of court came back with the tidings that he had borrowed a horse at the hotel and ridden out on the prairie an hour ago. Since then nobody had seen him.

The Crown prosecutor fidgeted, the judge frowned, and there was a whispering in the court, until the former rose up: "As Wilkins is one of my principal witnesses, I must suggest an adjournment."

It cost me an effort to repress an exclamation. I had already been kept long enough in suspense, and suspecting that Wilkins did not mean to return, knew that a lengthened adjournment would be almost equally as disastrous as a sentence.

"Have you no information whatever as to why he has absented himself?" asked the judge. Receiving a negative answer, he turned towards the trooper: "Exactly what did you hear at the hotel?"

"Very little, sir," was the answer. "He didn't tell anybody where he was going, but just rode out. The hotelkeeper said he guessed Wilkins had something on his mind by the way he kicked things about last night."

"It will be the business of the police to find him as speedily as possible. In the meantime, I can only adjourn the case until they do, unless the prisoner's representative proceeds with the examination of witnesses," said the judge.

Dixon was on his feet in a moment. "With the exception of Sergeant Mackay and the witness Niven, who will be further required by my legal friend, I do not purpose to trouble the witnesses," he said. "While I can urge no reasonable objection to the adjournment, it is necessary to point out that it will inflict a grievous injury on one whom I have every hope of showing is a wholly innocent man. It is well known that this is the one time of the year when the prairie rancher's energies are taxed to the utmost, and the loss of even a few days now may entail the loss of the harvest or the ruin of the stock. My client has also suffered considerably from being brought here to answer what I cannot help describing as an unwarranted charge, and it is only reasonable that bail should be allowed."

"Is anyone willing to offer security?" asked the judge.

There was a few moments' silence, and then a hum of subdued voices as a man rose up; while I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw it was Boone. In spite of the slight change in his appearance, he must have been aware that he was running a serious risk, for his former holding lay almost within a day's journey. I could also see that some of the spectators started as they recognized him.

"I shall be glad to offer security for the prisoner's reappearance, so far as my means will serve," he said.

"You are a citizen of this place, or have some local standing?" asked the judge.

Boone answered carelessly: "I can hardly claim so much; but a good many people know me further west, and I am prepared to submit my bank-book as a guarantee."

He had scarcely finished, when another man I had not noticed earlier stood up in turn. "I am authorized by Carson Haldane, of Bonaventure, to offer bail to any extent desired."

The judge beckoned both of them to sit down again, and called up a commissioned police officer and Sergeant Mackay. Then I felt slightly hopeful, guessing that a good deal depended on Mackay's opinion. The others drew aside, and my heart throbbed fast with the suspense until the judge announced his decision.

"As the charge is a serious one, and the police hope to find the missing witness very shortly, I must, in the meantime, refuse to allow bail."

I had grown used to the crushing disappointment which follows short-lived hope; but the shock was hard to meet. It seemed only too probable that Lane or his emissaries had spirited Wilkins away, and would not produce him until it was too late to save my crop. Still, there was no help for it, and I followed the officer who led me back to my quarters with the best air of stolidity I could assume.

"What did you think of it?" asked Dixon, who came in presently with a smile on his face; and I answered ruefully: "The less said the better. It strikes me as the beginning of the final catastrophe, and if Wilkins substantiates the finding of the match-box, conviction must follow. What is the usual term of detention for such offenses?"

"You needn't worry about that," was the cheerful answer. "Things are going just about as well as they could. There'll be a second adjournment, and then perhaps another."

"And I must lie here indefinitely while my crops and cattle go to ruin! That is hardly my idea of things going well; and if you are jesting, it is precious poor humor," I broke in.

Dixon laughed. "I am not jesting in the least. You seem to be one of those people, Ormesby, who believe everything will go to ruin unless they hold control themselves. Now, it would not surprise me, if, on your return, you found your crops and cattle flourishing. Further, the prosecution hold a poor case, and I expect, when my turn comes, to see it collapse. There isn't so much as you might fancy in the match-box incident. The men who burn down places don't generally leave such things about. I have had a talk with the sergeant, and, though he's closer than an oyster, I begin to catch a glimmering of his intentions."

"Why can't you explain them then? I'm growing tired of hints, and feel tempted to tell my mysterious well-wishers to go to the devil together, and leave me in peace," I said.

"A little ill-humor is perhaps excusable," was the tranquil answer. "It is wisest not to prophesy until one is sure, you know. Now, I'm open, as I said, to do my best for you; but in that case you have just got to let me set about it independently. Usual or otherwise, it is my way."

"Then I suppose I'll have to let you. Your reputation should be a guarantee," I answered moodily, and Dixon lifted his hat from the table.

"Thanks!" he said dryly. "It is, in fact, the only sensible thing you can do."