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"Lawbreakers need to be cleverer folks than those who live within the law. I guess there won't be much whisky run into Rocky Springs with Fyles around, and the police can do nothing unless they catch the boys at it. You're too nervous about things." She laughed quietly. "Why, the sight of a red coat scares you worse than getting chased by a mouse."
Superintendent Jason was still angry at the manner in which the great whisky-running coup had been effected, and of the manner in which the perpetrators of it had slipped through the official fingers. He blamed everybody, and particularly Inspector Fyles, in whose hands the case had been placed. Nor had he been wholly appeased by the inspector's final offer.
Fyles is a brave man, and a just man," she went on, with a slight warmth. "He's a man of unusual capacity, and worth admiration. But he is a police officer," she added regretfully. "In saving Charlie from him we shall prevent one good man wronging another, and I guess that should be good service. Let's content ourselves with that. Will you help?" Big Brother Bill had no hesitation at any time.
Then she held out her hand. Fyles took it and pressed it tenderly. "Why," he asked gently, almost humbly, "have you so deliberately avoided me lately?" The woman stroked Peter's brown head as it was pushed forward beside the man's shoulder. "Why?" she echoed. Then she smiled up into the man's face. "Because we are antagonists until after Monday. Good-bye."
Just for a moment Fyles guessed he might be some farmer, and the tweed jacket suggested he was out to pay a visit to friends. Then, quite abruptly, he changed his mind, and further increased his pace. He had detected the city-fashioned top-boots the man was wearing. Without further speculation he pressed on to overtake the stranger, whom, presently, he saw turn round and look back.
Stormy Longton glanced over quickly, while the kid shuffled the cards. "Who cares a curse for red-coats?" he snorted fiercely, his keen, scarred face flushing violently, his steel-gray eyes shining like silver tinsel. "If Fyles and his boys butt in there'll be a dandy bunch of lead flying around Rocky Springs. Maybe it won't drop from the sky neither.
But his wonder ceased, and he fell like a stone out of the saddle. He struggled fiercely, but his arms were held to his sides immovable. He had a vague recollection of a swift whirring sound, but that was all. Then he found himself struggling furiously on the ground with his horse vanished. Inspector Fyles was thinking of many things.
John Day's home, her real nature asserted itself, and a radiant smile lit her pretty face as she passed within. The real man is nearest the surface after a long period of idle solitude. So it was with Stanley Fyles, riding over the even, sandy trail of the prairies which stretched away south of the Assiniboine River.
That's useful, seeing Charlie's sort of small, and and mild." Suddenly he pointed out ahead. "What's that standing right up there? See, over there. A tree or something." Fyles abruptly awoke to their whereabouts. Bill Bryant was pointing at the great pine marking Rocky Springs. "That's the landmark of Rocky Springs," he told him.
A rattle of firearms far off on the other side of the river left it unspoken. Something was happening away over there, something they had not calculated upon. The rest of the patrol, with Fyles, was divided between the other bank and the more distant trail. He turned to his men. "Loose him and get into the saddle sharp!" he cried. "They've fooled us. By God, they've fooled us again!"
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