Robert Leighton

“ Sergeant Silk cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and went down on one knee. He did not yet raise his gun, although many of the warriors had opened a random fire and little spurts of dust and grass were beginning to show where the bullets were falling. He waited very calmly, knowing the habits of the Indians—knowing that although they fight hard and fiercely for their lives when cornered they shrink from riding full tilt into the fire of a well-aimed rifle. ”

“ Quick!" he cried, awakening him with a rough shake as he began to untie the rope with which the half-breed was bound. "The prairie's on fire! Look at the smoke! Quick; get to your feet. We've no time to lose. There's only one horse—my mare. The other's done for, see? You killed it—as you meant to kill me."
"Holy!" exclaimed Pierre Roche. His bronzed face had become suddenly livid. His dark eyes showed the abject terror that had come over him. "Only one horse? Yours? Den you will abandon me? You will tek your revenge so?"
A ghost of a smile played about the lips of Sergeant Silk. ”

“ Every one near saw and understood the man's terrible peril. He was caught between the two sections, and one of them was moving steadily towards him to crush him out of life.
"Who is it?" questioned Bob Wilson. "How'd he git thar'?"
"Fell in," answered Andy O'Reilly. "It's Eben Sharrow, and, say, he can't swim a stroke. Guess he's sure done for."
"Sure," nodded Wilson. "Ain't got a ghost of a chance. Best not look. Come away!"
He caught at Percy Rapson's sleeve to draw him from the sight. But Percy stood firm with his eyes staring wildly at Sergeant Silk. ”

“ The Indian chief had suddenly wheeled within the galloping circle, throwing his pony back with a jerk on its haunches. The warriors came up to him one by one, halting all together in a compact company, with their ponies' heads towards the two figures crouching in the hollow of the dog town.
Sergeant Silk had turned to confront them, raising himself to command a fuller view of them. He understood their manœuvre. Instead of closing in around him from all sides in broken order, they were going to make a combined frontal charge.
"Fools!" he muttered contemptuously. "They never learn how to fight. ”

“ For a long time Silk listened to the sound of their horses' hoofs, watching for them to cross into a wide stretch of moonlit grass. Trooper Medlicott was now close behind him. Percy Rapson was far back.
"Here they come!" whispered Sergeant Silk. "Be ready to give chase. They're both masked."
He rode boldly out to meet them, halting in the middle of the trail and raising his carbine.
"Who goes?" he cried. "Pull up, or I fire!"
The two masked riders dragged their horses round and made off by the way they had come. They were in the full light. Silk fired two shots in quick succession. ”

“ Percy recalled the exciting incident to his own memory now as he followed the red-coated [Pg 83] officer down the trail. He pictured to himself the noisy saloon, thronged with racing men, cowboys, ranchers, idlers from the town and the outlying homesteads, with a sprinkling of Indians and half-breeds.
He saw a tall, lithe, blue-eyed man, dressed as a rancher, in corduroys, blue shirt, and wide felt hat, slowly threading his way, as though without definite aim, among the little tables at which men sat drinking, smoking, gambling. ”

“ He knew all the secrets of the plains, he could tell you the name of every flower and tree and bird and beast, and for following up a trail, for seeing and hearing and smelling and drawing correct conclusions from every little sign that any one else would pass by unnoticed, he was quite as clever as any Indian. ”

“ Silk had no need to use spur or reins. He let her go her own instinctive way, and only strove to keep his awkward seat in the saddle and to hold grimly, desperately to the man lying helpless across his knees. Once only he tightened the reins to check the mare's headlong flight as they came to the brink of a creek. Then, with coaxing, affectionate [Pg 71] words, he bade her go warily, guiding her through the shallows, where a struggling crowd of coyotes, rabbits, and prairie dogs wallowed or swam or sank exhausted. ”

“ At the farther side of the sluggish stream Silk dismounted, trusting that the fire would not yet leap the water.
"Reckon we can take breath for a while," he said to his moaning prisoner. "Say, I'll just fix you in a more comfortable position and give you a drink. Guess you're needing it. I'd take the handcuffs off you, only I'm afraid you can hardly be trusted, even now. What do you say?"
As he brought a hatful of water and held it up, the half-breed dipped his face in it, and then looked down at him appealingly. ”

“ When they were within fifty yards of him, Silk cocked his rifle. Instantly, at sight of the levelled weapon, every Indian flung himself over the side of his pony, showing no more than an arm and a leg. ”

“ He was looking across the platform at a tall man in a red tunic.
"Fine, handsome chaps, these North-West Mounted Police," he remarked to his fellow-passenger. "Look, Colonel, look at that one on the platform! Quite a picture of soldierly bearing; fit to be an officer in the Guards so far as outward appearance goes! Just a trifle too tidy, perhaps; too consciously elegant; too much as if he were intended as an ornament rather than for serious active service. There's not a crease or a flaw in his scarlet tunic, see! ”

“ Then he turned and saw Corporal Pretty John's heavy, bleared eyes fixed upon him. 'How!' he said in greeting [Pg 208] as if they hadn't seen each other for months. 'Yes, it is so. Now you sleep—sleep long, sleep well. In the blizzard to sleep is to die. Here, to sleep is to live. It is good. Yes. And Lean Bear is not sorry.'"
Dan Medlicott watched Sergeant Silk striking a match and shielding it with his hand as he held it to his pipe and puffed the ragged smoke into the wintry air. ”

“ Percy had been so absorbed in watching the preparation of a new charge of dynamite that he had not noticed that Sergeant Silk had left his side. He went in search of him, and found him seated astride one of the logs that were stranded on the river bank in front of the camp.
The boy went up to him, and, looking over his shoulder, saw, to his surprise, that the soldier policeman was engaged in making a crude pencil sketch of a Canadian canoe poised perilously on the brink of a cataract.
"My hat, Sergeant!" Percy exclaimed. "I never suspected you of havin' any pretensions to bein' an artist!" ”

“ Naturally, his work as a member of the Mounted Police and his duty of going on lonely patrol over prairie and mountain, gave him plenty of opportunity for exercising these powers, and somehow he had the luck of being always at hand when there was any danger to be faced, or when a man of fearless courage and ready resource was wanted to carry out some perilous adventure. ”

“ They had left word at the ranch that if they did not return within a stated time it would mean that they were having good luck, and that Maple Leaf was to go to them with some further supplies of the white man's food—tea, sugar, flour, with rifle cartridges, not forgetting tobacco.
So Maple Leaf had filled her saddle-bags, mounted her pony, and gone off on the trail alone to the trappers' dug-out on far-away Butterfly Creek. ”

“ Each warrior threw himself along the off side of his steed, and as they wheeled round and round, keeping always the same distance away, they yelled their shrill war cry, firing no shot as yet.
Sergeant Silk's eyes were steadily watching them. He was lying at full length, supported on an elbow. His face had taken on a look of grim determination.
"They're not risking to come closer—not yet," he said calmly. "The dog holes are as bad for them as for us. We're safe for a bit. You see, Indians are never good marksmen with firearms. ”

“ Silk nodded. "But it's only my surmise that there's a girl in that wagon. I don't insist that she's alone. There's the teamster and the off man taking charge of the outfit, even if their passenger had no other companion than her dog. She's young," he went on, as if speaking to himself, "and I guess she has fair hair. A bit of an artist, I believe. Paints landscapes. I'm inclined to promise that if you were to overhaul her fixings, Percy, you'd find she has a sketch of Minnewanka Peak in her portfolio." ”

“ Gaskell then became aware that something was going to happen. The supposed clergyman threw off his black coat and false beard and stood up, revealing himself in the familiar military uniform of the North-West Mounted Police. He bent forward and pressed the cold ring of a revolver muzzle against the driver's neck.
"Go ahead, Bulger!" he commanded. "Keep hold of those reins. Drop them and you'll be dropped yourself. I've got you, sure."
Bulger turned and caught a dim glimpse of the soldier policeman's face, glowering at him above the scarlet tunic.
"Silk! Sergeant Silk!" ”

“ Sergeant Silk's eyebrows gathered for an instant in a frown of vexation at this reference to finger-prints.
"Quite so," he said. "If one had had any suspicion against any particular person and could have examined his hand, it would have been a means of proving or disproving his connection with the crime."
Percy Rapson's eyes were still lingering curiously upon Eben Sharrow, who now bent forward to get a light from the fire. As he held the light to his pipe, Sharrow looked across at Sergeant Silk. ”

“ Already certain ominous groanings and grumblings were coming from the heart of the vast, tangled pile, and the great tree trunks were beginning to move of themselves before the pressure of the mass from behind.
Soon, when the obstructing key logs should yield, the whole bulk would plunge forward, to be swept along by the current like a wild stampede of giant animals suddenly let loose, tumbling over one another and fighting desperately for room in the onward rush. ”

“ Sergeant Silk shook his head.
"It wasn't an Indian who did it," he decided. "No Indian would have left so valuable a weapon behind. An Indian would have robbed his victim of everything that was worth stealing, and would probably have taken his scalp. He would almost certainly have appropriated the poor chap's horse. No; it wasn't an Indian."
Dan Medlicott then asked—
[Pg 41]
"Would a white man—a Canadian—have been any more likely to leave the dagger behind as evidence against himself?"
"I don't feel sure that a white man would use such a weapon in any case," returned Silk. ”

“ She had abundance of food and a good, sure-footed horse. She knew the landmarks and could not well go astray. In the noon-day heat she would halt at the side of some shady creek to rest; at night she would seek out some friendly shelter where she could build a fire, and, wrapping [Pg 163] her blanket about her, sleep as comfortably and securely as in her little room under the roof at the Medlicott homestead.
Leaving the mountains behind, she crossed a belt of old sand-drift overgrown with pine. ”

“ They never clean their rifles, [Pg 180] never get hold of decent ammunition; and it isn't just easy, anyhow, to take aim from a galloping horse. You've no need to be afraid," he added reassuringly.
"I'm not anyways afraid while you're here, Sergeant," Maple Leaf responded. "Why don't they get doing something? Why don't they shoot?"
Suddenly, as if he had heard her and understood, one of the warriors flung himself forward under his pony's neck and fired into the ring. The bullet kicked up a spurt of dust many yards away, but it was the signal for the beginning of the fight. ”

“ We're not here to occupy our time with strangers; unless, of course, we can be of some help to them. We've got to follow up the trail of Nick-By-Night and his gang, and hale them off to prison—if we're lucky enough to lay hands on them."
Percy Rapson glanced forward to the cloud of dust.
"Risky for an unprotected girl to be travellin' about when there are such characters as Nick-By-Night on the trail," he said. "I wonder nobody warned her against the possibility of bein' held-up by bandits." ”

“ The man you're looking at isn't always dressed as if he had just come out of a bandbox to parade his elegance and his good figure on a railroad platform. I have seen him [Pg 107] looking very different, riding out on the lone patrol. If he is clean and tidy now, it is because he hates slovenliness of any kind, and, perhaps, too, because he likes to hide the fact that the one purpose of his existence is to do his duty with efficiency. You ask if he could do any serious business with his revolver. My dear Sir George, that chap is considered the best shot in all Canada. ”

“ In the long, forward race there were many moments of suspense—moments in which each galloping savage had time to reflect that when that waiting rifle should be raised to spit forth its deadly succession of bullets, he himself might be one of the first to fall. ”

“ You may bet he's got something. He always has when he's more than usually quiet, as he is now."
"You might ask him," urged Dan. "He's out there on the verandah."
"It would look too inquisitive," objected Percy.
"Well, if you don't, I will," Dan resolved. "I'll go right now, while he's alone."
Sergeant Silk had called in at the homestead on his way along the trail to the depot of the North-West Mounted Police at Canmore, and had been induced by Mrs. Medlicott to stay to supper and give his pony a needed rest. ”

“ After the meal, when the men were beginning to cut up their plug tobacco and load their pipes, Sergeant Silk gathered some food into a blanket and filled a flagon with hot tea. His chums watched him, curious concerning his preparations.
"You going out on scout duty then, Sergeant?" one of them inquired.
"This grub isn't for myself," he explained, nodding in the direction of Maple Leaf's camp beyond a projecting corner of the ravine. "I'm taking it to a girl bivouacking alone farther up the cañon."
"Alone?" one of them exclaimed in surprise. "Must be an Indian. ”

“ Rapson glanced at him curiously.
"That chap Ebenezer Sharrow doesn't look as if he could be guilty of committin' a serious crime," he ventured. "And yet I suppose you are here on his track."
"I did not say so," Silk returned sharply, reprovingly. "You appear to think that because I'm a policeman I must always be on some poor fellow's trail, hunting him down. Sharrow was personally a stranger to me until last night, when I met him for the first time in the bunkhouse."
"Then why did you go out of your way to get hold of his finger-print?" Percy insisted. "You never do anything without a reason." ”