Sinclair soon spoke again. 'It's only a blackleg pulled up, Captain.'
The soldiers just then had particularly strict orders to immediately arrest all suspicious characters seen about the fort, because many unprincipled actions had latterly been committed by members of the loafer fraternity. Therefore the smallest unprincipled action perpetrated in Garry during these days, immediately subsequent to the Rebellion, seriously endangered personal freedom of action.
Then they came up to the excessively hot yet jubilant procession, which was composed somewhat as follows,—
A motley crowd of loafers and deadbeats, who jeered in unison, and part sympathy for the law-breaker, at the perspiring efforts of the police behind; a plentiful sprinkling of the omnipresent small youth, and ubiquitous dogs; then the culprit himself, half dragged, half supported by the two soldiers; close behind appeared the master of ceremonies, one Alfred McAuliffe, closely attended by a jovial party of grey-bearded men, who strenuously seconded the efforts of the chief speaker by pelting the prisoner with language and what missiles came convenient; the procession closed by more loafers of assorted classes, with other specimens of small fry, both human and canine.
All interest was centered upon the prisoner, who was being forcibly projected along the strip of sidewalk, indulging in language more varied than seemly. He was no less important a personage than Peter Denton.
The factor was in a condition bordering closely upon extreme bliss. Shouting with the full force of his great voice, he strode along the walk, inciting the already too-willing small boys towards the persecution of the luckless prisoner. A huge felt hat crowned the red face, which was glistening with heat and delight, while big drops coursed unregarded along his nose, to be buried and lost within the mazes of his thick beard.
'Reckon we've found Alf,' said the Captain, blowing a greasy smoke cloud from his lips.
'Well, I should remark!' said the hunter.
'Pick up good chunks of mud, boys,' shouted the Factor. 'Don't bother about the stones. Fifty cents to the younker who first catches him on the nose.'
'Make way, there!' ordered the police.