Jimmie picked up the bit of tarnished metal, and gave a sudden start in his turn. Quickly controlling himself, he asked as quietly as possible, “Where did you get this, father?”
“I don’t know, son,” repeated the man again. “I don’t know. I must have had it a long time,—son,—a long time.”
Jimmie looked at the little dull article a moment and then leaning forward fastened it to the breast of his father’s coat. Mr. Ransom began to look uneasy and a wild light sprang to his eyes for an instant. Jimmie immediately detached the metal piece and put it in his pocket. Then he began to chat with his father about the trees, the mountains, the hut and kindred matters, and apparently forgot all about the incident.
But the moment that Bill Dawkins returned from his day’s hunting in the mountains, Jimmie was off like an arrow from a bow for the camp down on the Big Bend.
The party were just enjoying a quiet evening meal prepared under Mountain Jim’s tutelage, when Jimmie burst in upon them.
“See that!” he cried breathlessly, holding up the piece of tarnished metal. “And that!” he added, turning the article over so as to show its blackened under side.
“It’s a badge!” cried Persimmons.
“A Northwest Mounted badge!” added Ralph.
“And it has a name scratched on the back!” reported the professor.