Their time seemed all too short, however, and it was with a feeling of real regret that they finally struck camp and returned once more to the routine of their respective duties, vowing fervently to come again the following season. The Indian summer—that most beautiful and reliable period of the year in the Canadian West—gradually passed. November saw the first fall of snow, and from then onward the weather grew steadily colder as the icy grasp of winter began to grip the West.

Gradually the stock depredations in the Sergeant’s district grew more and more infrequent, until they practically ceased altogether for, by this time, men who had hitherto been inclined to step aside from the straight trail grew afraid of him. Afraid of that sneering, merciless tongue that stung them to the quick with its bitter venom—of the heavy hand that struck by night as well as day—and, of that scheming, cunning brain which, outclassing theirs in its superior knowledge of ways that are dark on the range, seemed to anticipate and forestall every crooked move that they made.

But, what dumbfounded them more than anything else, was the strange apparition of a great, brutal heart at the bottom of it all. There was Mrs. Laycock, they reflected, who had been burnt out in that last bad prairie fire, and whose husband he had been the means of sending to the penitentiary a short time before as an incorrigible horse thief. Had not Benton gone into her stable and, single-handed, taken out and hitched up that maddened team to the democrat, getting badly kicked in doing so? And, after driving the woman and her family safely out of the fire zone, returned and routed out every able-bodied man within its radius? and then, not sparing himself, worked them like galley slaves, trailing wet hides and flogging with gunny-sacks until they had got it under?

True, he had come around later with a subscription list in her aid, and a look on his face that seemed to work wonders with those parsimoniously inclined. But did not his own contribution on that occasion exceed by fourfold any one of theirs? even if the Government did not pay inordinately high salaries to members of the Force.

And Jim McCloud, too. Had not the Sergeant, at the imminent risk of his own life, pulled Jim out of that muskeg at Willow Mere one night? Jim was “full,” without a doubt; otherwise an old hand like him would never have got himself into such a jack-pot; but, all the same, he well-nigh followed his horse. Had not the Sergeant packed him across his saddle to the nearest ranch—worked over him until he came around and was all right—and then afterwards, cut short Jim’s surly thanks with the remark that “he had only saved him that he might have the satisfaction later of getting him where he wanted him”?

Jim McCloud, of all men. Jim, who had been ahead of them all in his bitter vilification of the new policeman and, avowedly, the latter’s worst enemy on the range. Only the two of them there at the muskeg ... evening, at that ... not another soul within sight or hearing. All the Sergeant needed to have done—if he had liked—was to sit in his saddle and just—watch.

Of what earthly use were all the many opportunities to rustle that showed up so invitingly at times while such a ruthlessly clever anomaly as he was stationed in the district? A man who seemed to possess endless disguises and hiding places and never to sleep; whose disquieting presence, supremely indifferent to weather conditions or darkness, was apt to upset all their calculations as to his whereabouts in a most sudden and undesirable fashion?

No—so long as he was around, it was not worth the while risking “a stretch in the ‘Pen,’” even if owners were a little lethargic and careless, at times, about getting their colts and calves branded. There must be “snitches” in their midst, “double-crossing” them, they argued darkly. Must be—otherwise whence had he obtained the knowledge that had led to the undoing of so many? And, as this disturbing possibility continued to gain credence, the seeds of mutual distrust and apprehension were sown broadcast amongst them which, needless to say, was greatly beneficial to the rest of the law-abiding community.

If this altered state of affairs was highly satisfactory to Benton’s commanding officer it was even more so to the Stock Association, and the Sergeant was the recipient of many tributes of esteem and gratitude from that sterling body for the good work that he had done.

PART II