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I'll tache yeh tu make a mock av Burke Slavin, time an' again! I'll " Redmond interposed, "Steady, Sergeant!" he implored shakily, his hand on his superior's shoulder, "For God's sake " But Slavin, in absent fashion, shoved him off. He seemed to put no effort in the movement, but the tense muscular impact of it sent Redmond reeling yards away. "Giddap, Yorkey!
Beggar's between the devil and the deep sea properly. He'll chuck up the sponge just now, you'll see." "Eyah!" agreed Slavin, with an oath, "he's up against it. But Reddy down there I du not like th' idea av th' bhoy bein' all alone. Yorkey, yu' shlink thru' th' brush an' down th' bank an' kape um company awhile. Th' Docthor an' me'll kape th' front here covered."
Da ." The oath died on his lips and he remained staring at the hobo as a sudden thought struck him. His gaze flickered to Yorke's face, and his subordinate nodded comprehensively. Slavin beckoned to Lee. "Take um inside the hotel parlour, Nick," he ordered, "fwhere we hild coort this mornin. Yorkey, yu' go an' hunt up Mr. Gully. I don't think he's pulled out yet, has he, Nick?"
"H-mm!" ejaculated Yorke, "seems to me I've got a hazy recollection of meeting up with that fellow before somewhere. In a hotel in High River, I think it was. Beggar was yarning about Cuba, I remember." "Bet it was hazy all right," was Redmond's sarcastic rejoiner, "like most of your bar-room recollections, Yorkey." He gave vent to a snorting chuckle. "That 'D'you know?
In this fashion they finally drew to the level of the river, where the trail forked; one arm of it following more or less the winding course of the Bow River back westward. At this junction they searched narrowly until they found unmistakable indication of the blood-tinged tracks still heading in the direction of Cow Run. "What was that case of yours, Yorkey?" enquired Redmond.
"Fwhat ye lukkin for, Yorkey?" "Oh, nothing!" came that gentleman's answer. "Ye'll find ut in th' bottle thin." Insult was added to injury by the sergeant casually plucking that article from it's "rist" and chucking it over. Yorke's face was a study. "Oh!" cried he dismally, "what wit! . . . give three rousing cheers!" . . . He mounted once more.
There seemed something very terrible just then in the pathetic working of his rugged features, as if he were striving to allay some powerful inward emotion. Then huskily, but not unkindly as perchance the father may have spoken to the prodigal son came his soft brogue: "Get yu tu bed, Yorkey! get yu tu bed, man! . . . an' thry me no more! . . . ." Mutely, like a child, Yorke obeyed the order.
Man! you look as if you'd seen a ghost!" Then his own face blanched, as the shivering George bubbled incoherently, "B-b-body! b-b-body! My God, Yorkey! th-there's a s-s-stiff d-down th-there! Ugh! I d-d-dived right onto it!" For a brief space they remained staring at each other; then, a strange light of understanding broke over Yorke's face, and he made a snatch at Redmond's clothes.
George, seated upon the rump of the dead horse, nodded and grunted laconic response: "Sure. 'Bout two miles down the trail there. How'd you get along, Yorkey? Did you raise Slavin and the coroner?" "Got Slavin all hunkadory," said the senior constable briefly, "he should be here soon, now. Dr. Cox'd just left for Wilson's, two miles this side of Cow Run.
"But Yorkey," he continued "wud not let me lie down. . . . God! how that man did put his fishts an' mucklucks tu me an' pushed an' shtaggered wid me' afther th' dogs, beggin' an' cursin' an' prayin' an' callin' me names that ud fairly make th' dead relations av a man rise up out av their graves. . . . Light-headed he got towards th' ind av th' thrail, poor chap! shoutin' dhrill-ordhers an' Injia naygur talk, an' singin' great songs an' chips av poethry th' half av which I misremimber excipt thim thim wurrds he said this night.
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