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Bindloss, Harold, 1866-1945

"Winston of the Prairie"

"
"And you knew farmer Winston?"
Payne appeared thoughtful. "Of course I met him a few times on the
prairie, always on horseback with his big hat on, but Winston is
dead--that is, I heard him break through the ice."
The men's eyes met for a moment, and Stimson smiled curiously. "There
is," he said, "still a warrant out for him. Now, you know where I am
going, and, while I am away, you will watch Courthorne and his
homestead. If anything curious happens there, you will let me know.
The new man has instructions to find you any duty that will suit you."
The corporal looked at his officer steadily, and again there was
comprehension in his eyes. Then he nodded. "Yes, sir. I have
wondered whether, if Shannon could have spoken another word that night,
it would have been Winston the warrant was issued for."
Stimson raised a restraining hand. "My lad," he said dryly, "the
police trooper who gets advancement is the one that carries out his
orders and never questions them, until he can show that they are wrong.
Then he uses a good deal of discretion. Now you know your duty?"
"Yes, sir," said Payne, and Stimson, shaking his bridle, cantered off
across the prairie.
Then, seeing no need to waste time, the corporal rode towards
Courthorne's homestead, and found its owner stripping a binder. Pieces
of the machine lay all around him, and from the fashion in which he
handled them it was evident that he was capable of doing what the other
men at Silverdale left to the mechanic at the settlement.


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