At that Perk let out one of his whoops as though unable to contain his overpowering delight.
“Ol’ Jimmy McGregor you mean, Jack! Don’t I know him from his moccasins up, the queerest but straightest man in the whole Northwest Territory? Why, I was located not many miles away from his store an’ many a time dropped in to get my ’baccy at his counter. I’ll be as happy as a lark to shake his honest hand again. Now wouldn’t that jar you though—such great luck?”
“Here’s another name you may chance to know. We’re to pick up one of the Mounties at the post and take him along as a sort of guide and backer, so as to show we’re playing our game in conjunction with the legal authorities of the region. Ever meet up with Sergeant Lowden, Perk?”
“Say, I was in cahoots with a mighty fine lad by that name,” came the speedy reply, “but if it’s him they’ve given Red a big boost since I quit the game and went back to flyin’.”
“That sounds good to me, just the same,” Jack told him, “because we’re set to see a heap of the Sergeant before we skip back to our own side of the border and with him being an old pard of yours it’s likely he’ll feel it’s up to him to do his level best to help us corral that wildcat.”
“Meanin’ who, if it’s all the same to you, partner?” Perk observed.
“Listen then and get it pat, brother. Some time last year a certain man escaped from Leavenworth Penitentiary—it’s never been learned just how he managed it, or who on the outside or in gave him a lift. Seems that he was a man Uncle Sam particularly wanted to keep shut up for a long term—a dangerous man to be at large. This brought about a bunch of trouble at Washington, and a number of high officials felt the finger of suspicion. Lax methods and such, you understand, being leveled at them. Rewards have been posted everywhere and I can remember seeing several of them in my travels, but up to now never has the first bit of information filtered in to Headquarters. They seemed to infer from certain hints that the escaped prisoner had gone West, but then again it was said he had skipped to South America where he could change his name and keep on playing hob with other people’s wealth. His name, Perk, before he was hauled in and sent to the pen was Leonard Culpepper!”
“Hot ziggetty dog! so, that’s the way the scent leads us, is it?” cried Perk, evidently fully aroused by the disclosure. “Sure, I’ve seen them posters in mor’n a few post offices north an’ south, east an’ west and wondered who’d be the lucky dick to snatch that fat reward they put up. Gee! you’ve got me near goofy partner, with that news.”
“Listen again then, Perk, and get the gist of what this message has given to us. Information had trickled in through several sources to state positively that a man answering the description of Leonard Culpepper has been playing hob up in the Northwest Territory for some months now. He’s got a few tough bad men he runs with and they take their orders from him. That’s another proof of his identity, since Leonard never would play second fiddle to any living man. It was rule or ruin with him every time.”
“Huh! gettin’ hotter right along I’d say, Jack—suits me to a dot, an’ sure worth waitin’ for in the bargain,” and if any one could judge how happy Perk felt just then, the grin on his face, as well as the way in which he kept rubbing one hand over the other, just like a miser gloating over his gold, would be enough to tell the tale.