"Here's Sergeant Stimson and one of his troopers wanting you," he said.
Winston looked at Courthorne, but the latter smiled. "The visit has nothing to do with me. It is probably accidental, but I fancy Stimson knows me, and it wouldn't be advisable for him to see us both together. Now, I wonder whether you could make it fifteen hundred dollars."
"No," said Winston. "Stay if it pleases you."
Courthorne shook his head. "I don't know that it would. You don't do it badly, Winston."
He went out by another door, almost as the grizzled sergeant came in and stood still, looking at the master of the homestead.
"I haven't seen you since I came here, Mr. Courthorne, and now you remind me of another man I once had dealings with," he said.
Winston laughed a little. "I scarcely fancy that is very civil, Sergeant."
"Well," said the prairie-rider, "there is a difference, when I look at you more closely. Let me see, I met you once or twice back there in Alberta?"
He appeared to be reflecting, but Winston was on his guard. "More frequently, I fancy, but you had nothing definite against me, and the times have changed. I would like to point that out to you civilly. Your chiefs are also on good terms with us at Silverdale, you see."
The sergeant laughed. "Well, sir, I meant no offense, and called round to requisition a horse. One of the Whitesod boys has been deciding a quarrel with a neighbor with an ax, and while I fancy they want me at once, my beast got his foot in a badger-hole."