"
Winston opened the message, and his face grew grim as he read, "Send me
five hundred dollars. Urgent."
Then he thrust it into his pocket, and went on with his harvesting when
he had thanked the man. He also worked until dusk was creeping up
across the prairie before he concerned himself further about the
affair, and then the note he wrote was laconic.
"Enclosed you will find fifty dollars, sent only because you may be
ill. In case of necessity you can forward your doctor's or hotel
bills," it ran.
It was with a wry smile he watched a man ride off towards the
settlement with it. "I shall not be sorry when the climax comes," he
said. "The strain is telling."
In the meanwhile Sergeant Stimson had been quietly renewing his
acquaintance with certain ranchers and herders of sheep scattered
across the Albertan prairie some six hundred miles away. They found
him more communicative and cordial than he used to be, and with one or
two he unbent so far as, in the face of the regulations, to refresh
himself with whisky which had contributed nothing to the Canadian
revenue. Now the lonely ranchers have as a rule few opportunities of
friendly talk with anybody, and as they responded to the sergeant's
geniality, he became acquainted with a good many facts, some of which
confirmed certain vague suspicions of his, though others astonished
him. In consequence of this he rode out one night with two or three
troopers of a Western squadron.
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