"Burroughs give Pine Coulee a new dress—new beads—new blanket," was the candid reply.
The teamster was stricken dumb. He made no comment on the gossip, but when it came his turn to be examined before Colonel Macleod, he swore that Burroughs was the owner of the seized liquor and that he had been employed to drive these men North. In every way he could, he offset the perjured testimony of Bill, who posed as the victim of circumstantial evidence.
The commandant-magistrate was puzzled. Me-Casto had testified that he had heard Burroughs in one of the lodges, arranging for the caching of expected whiskey, in one of the cut banks of the river. The teamster corroborated the Indian. Wild Cat Bill and Burroughs swore that neither owned the confiscated liquor. Colonel Macleod knew nothing of Charlie or Bill; but he considered the standing of Burroughs, also the unreliability of most Indians' testimony, and finally acquitted Burroughs unconditionally, while declaring Bill and Charlie guilty of smuggling, and he sentenced them accordingly. Burroughs promptly furnished the money for the payment of Bill's fine, and Latimer, believing Charlie's tale, loaned him money to escape the guard-room.
Great was the rejoicing in Burroughs' post that night. Long after midnight Bill waited for a moment with his chief.
"I done the best I could, Bob," he said dejectedly, when they were at last alone. "'F Phil Danvers hadn't been along I'd 'a' made it."
"I'll get even with him," growled Burroughs.
"The Police mos' caught us red-handed," explained Bill. "We hadn't more'n got the pitchforks back in the stable when they rode up."
"Say no more about it, Bill," suggested Bob. The smuggler looked comforted.
"Danvers is all right," mused Bill, while his friend prepared a drink.