You see, you couldn't arrest
me unless our folks in the Dominion had got their papers through."
The officer nodded. "No. We couldn't lay hands on you, and we only
had orders to see where you went to when you left this place, so the
folks there could corral you if they got the papers. That's about the
size of it at present, but, as I've sent a trooper over to Regent, I'll
know more to-morrow."
Winston laughed. "It may appear a little astonishing, but I haven't
the faintest notion why the police in Canada should worry about me. Is
there any reason you shouldn't tell me?"
The officer looked at him thoughtfully. "Bluff? I'm quite smart at it
myself," he said.
"No," and Winston shook his head. "It's a straight question. I want
to know."
"Well," said the other, "it couldn't do much harm if I told you. You
were running whisky a little while ago, and, though the folks didn't
seem to suspect it, you had a farmer or a rancher for a partner--it
appears he has mixed up things for you."
"Winston?" and the farmer turned to roll the cigar which did not need
it between his fingers.
"That's the man," said his companion. "Well, though I guess it's no
news to you, the police came down upon your friends at a
river-crossing, and farmer Winston put a bullet into a young trooper,
Shannon, I fancy."
Winston sat upright, and the blood that surged to his forehead sank
from it suddenly, and left his face gray with anger.
"Good Lord!" he said hoarsely.
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