"I was just about to tell you, my dear, what happened," he replied. "I was going quietly along, trying to find some trace of you, when a couple of breeds came up behind and took me prisoner. I thought they were going to shoot me at first, but they concluded to keep me until to-morrow, when they would bring me before their government. So they shut me up in a dug-out on the face of a bank, keeping my capture as quiet as possible for fear of the mob taking the law into its own hands and spoiling their projected entertainment. I hadn't been there long before the door was unbarred and Pasmore came in with Katie here. He told me to go with her, and, when I had found you, to return to where we had left the sleighs, and make back for the ranche by the old trail as quickly as possible. He said he'd come on later, but that we weren't to trouble about him. Katie had made it right, it seems, with my jailers, whom I am inclined to think are old friends of hers."
"But why couldn't he come on, dad, with you?"
There was something about the affair that she could not understand.
"I suppose he thought it would attract less attention to go separately. I think the others must have got safely into the Fort. It seems that since they have discovered that some of the English are trying to get through their lines they have strengthened the cordon round the Fort, so that now it is impossible to reach it."
"It's not pleasant, dad, to go back again and leave the others, is it?"
"It can't be helped, dear. I wish Pasmore would hurry up and come. He said, however, we were not to wait for him. That half-breed doesn't look too friendly, does he?"
"Pepin Quesnelle is, so I fancy it doesn't matter about the other," replied Dorothy.
The rancher turned to the others, who had evidently just finished a serious argument.
"Pepin," he observed, "I'm glad to find you're not one of those who forget their old friends."
"Did you ever think I would? Eh? What?" asked the manikin cynically, with his head on one side.