At sunset the team was changed at Mosquito Crossing. At full dusk the coach was rattling across the prairie trail, and an hour afterwards it was again among the hills, making for White Wolf Gulch.
As they entered the mouth of the gloomy defile the pace was slackened.
The driver cracked his whip with two cracks which sounded like pistol shots, and were echoed repeatedly from the cliffs; but he still held in his team.
Gaskell then became aware that something was going to happen. The supposed clergyman threw off his black coat and false beard and stood up, revealing himself in the familiar military uniform of the North-West Mounted Police. He bent forward and pressed the cold ring of a revolver muzzle against the driver's neck.
"Go ahead, Bulger!" he commanded. "Keep hold of those reins. Drop them and you'll be dropped yourself. I've got you, sure."
Bulger turned and caught a dim glimpse of the soldier policeman's face, glowering at him above the scarlet tunic.
"Silk! Sergeant Silk!" he cried, aghast at the sight.
Sergeant Silk took no notice of his consternation.
"Keep him at it Dannie," he ordered.