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At this point he came forward, and Inspector Jules said to him, after a curt salutation: "You were in a hurry last night, Sergeant Gellatly. You don't seem so pushed for time now. Usual thing. When a man seems over-zealous drink, cards, or women behind it.

Sergeant Fones, sitting in the barracks in talk with Private Gellatly, said at that moment in a swift silence, "Exactly." Pretty Pierre, at Pardon's Drive, drinking a glass of brandy at that moment, said to the ceiling: "No more of Pretty Pierre after to-morrow night, monsieur! Bien! If it is for the last time, then it is for the last time. So....so." He smiled. His teeth were amazingly white.

It's little they wanted to fire at us, I know, when we were crossin' the river, but it had to be done, you see, and us within sight. Will you say what I ask you, Jen?" She did not speak, but pressed his hand ever so slightly. "Tom Gellatly, I promise," he said. "Tom Gellatly, I promise " "To give you as much " "To give you as much " "Love "

In an instant the trapper, with a loud oath, caught at the Indian's throat; but as the blanket dropped back he gave a startled cry. There was the flash of a knife, and he fell back dead. Little Hammer stood above him, smiling, for a moment, and then, turning to Sergeant Gellatly, held out his arms silently for the handcuffs. The next day two men were lost on the prairies.

While she was mounting, Corporal Galna drew and struck a match to light his pipe. He held it up for a moment as though to see the face of Sergeant Gellatly. Jen had just given a good-night, and the horse the word and a touch of the spur at the instant. Her face, that is, such of it as could be seen above the cloak and under the cap, was full in the light.

In the tragedy that faced them this Christmas morning one at least had seen "the love of him." Perhaps the broncho had known it before. Old Aleck laid a palm upon the hand he had never touched when it had life. "He's too ha'sh," he said slowly. Private Gellatly looked up wonderingly. But the old man's eyes were wet. Twenty years ago there was trouble at Fort o' God.

Private Gellatly, standing without, heard Sergeant Fones say, as he passed into the open air, and slowly bared his forehead to the winter sun: "Exactly." And Private Gellatly cried, with revolt in his voice, "Divils me own, the word that a't to have been full o' joy was like the clip of a rifle- breech."

Jen gave a cry of mingled joy and pain, and said, with Tom Gellatly's cold hand clasped to her bosom: "Val, our Val, is free, is safe." "Yes, Val is free and safe-quite. The Riders of the Plains could not cross the river. It was too high. And so Tom Gellatly and Val got away. Val rides straight for the American border, and the other rides here."

"Yes like Tilburina. Who shall I have?" A run through their acquaintance suggested only Mrs. Gellatly, and her May rejected as being too suitable, too much the traditional confidante. "I should like one who might possibly have something to tell me in return, and she never could," she said. They were interrupted by the arrival of the man of whom they had spoken, Constantine Blair.

But Pierre and Galbraith were as dumbfounded as the Sergeant himself to know that the letter was gone. They were stunned beyond speech when Jen said, flushing: "No, Sergeant Tom, I am the thief. When I could not wake you, I took the letter from your pocket and carried it to Inspector Jules last night, or, rather, Sergeant Gellatly carried them. I wore his cap and cloak and passed for him."