Chapter VI
I
Old problems were disappearing now in the North-West Territories, new problems cropping up, old crimes and criminals dying away, new crimes and criminals upon the increase. During the two years which had passed since Hector first met Moon, he had been constantly dealing with these matters, old and new, under desperate conditions. Sheer bull-dog grinding in the face of gigantic difficulties; days and weeks of ceaseless exposure to the cruel cold of mid-winter, the fierce heat of midsummer, drenching rain, stabbing blizzard, rivers in flood-time, trails knee-deep in mud; innumerable arrests, when, single-handed he dragged the wanted man, fighting like a mad dog, from under the very wings of death, in the face of regiments of carbines; other arrests, quiet, subtle, efficient; cases which took inexhaustible patience to bring to a conclusion; cases which leaped from nowhere, demanding instant decision and unhesitating action; and all these cases and arrests, trackings, traps and desperate fights requiring at one time or another, the tip-top pitch of courage, zeal, determination and diplomacy—these things had been Hector's life in those stirring years.
The whiskey-smugglers, haling their stuff across the border for the consumption of Indians and whites, still occupied much of his attention. These were old hands, dealing in old crimes. The worst of the new enemies of the law were the cattle-rustlers, who came in with the ranching industry. Some were whites, most were Indians.
Hector had gradually come to the conclusion that—in the Macleod district at least—the whiskey-runners and cattle-rustlers were operating hand in glove from some central headquarters. Some clever criminal, or group thereof, had organized the two activities into one gigantic business. So far he kept these suspicions to himself, because he had not yet enough evidence to lay before the Inspector. In the meantime, he worked away steadily and in the working gained a reputation for physical strength, courage, determination and a high sense of duty among the officers and men, the settlers and the Indians which was worth far more than any King's ransom.
In the autumn following the receipt of Father Duval's letter he was re-transferred to Fort Macleod. There occurred an incident which nearly wrecked his reputation for all time.
II
"We've got a shipment here for you, Sergeant Adair," announced Randall, the keeper of the Weatherton Company's store at Fort Macleod. Hector walked over to the counter through the crowd of Indians, settlers and policemen.
The trader, when he reached him, was busy with a customer and Hector had to wait. He passed the time in talking to Welland, who was lounging at his elbow—Mr. Joseph Welland now, keener, sprucer, more cordial and certainly more prosperous than ever.