Farmer Winston's dead, and if he isn't he soon will be,
for the troopers have got their net right across the prairie, and the
Canadians don't fool time away as we do when it comes to hanging
anybody. The tale seems to have worried you."
Winston sat rigidly still and silent for almost a minute. Then he rose
up with a curious little shake of his shoulders.
"And farmer Winston's dead. Well, he had a hard life. I knew him
rather well," he said. "Thank you for the story. On my word this is
the first time I've heard it, and now it's time I was going."
The officer laughed a little. "Sit right down again. Now, there's
something about you that makes me like you, and as I can't talk to the
boys, I'll give you the best supper we can raise in the whole forsaken
country, and you can camp here until to-morrow. It's an arrangement
that will meet the views of everybody, because I'll know whether the
Canadians want you or not, in the morning."
Winston did not know what prompted him to agree, but it all seemed part
of a purpose that impelled him against his reasoning will, and he sat
still beside the stove, while his host went out to give orders
respecting supper and the return of the sleigh. He was also glad to be
alone a while, for now and then a fit of anger shook him as he saw how
he had been duped by Courthorne. He had heard Shannon's story, and,
remembering it, could fancy that Courthorne had planned the trooper's
destruction with a devilish cunning that recognized by what means the
blame could be laid upon a guiltless man.
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