Jim laughed.
“Man, but you’re thick in the skull. Eh, but it’s a lark!” he remarked, giving Phil’s mare a whack on the flank and sending her galloping off without further words of elucidation.
Phil found Jack McLean in his front parlour––late as it was––reading a book to his last pipe before turning in. In as few words as possible, he told him of what had happened and of the plan for the capture of the thieves. McLean required no persuading. In five minutes he was on his horse, ready for any escapade and swearing as volubly as only a hardened official of the Pioneer Traders can who has been systematically robbed without being able to lay the thieves by the heels.
In ten minutes more, McLean, big Blair and Phil were heading west, galloping hard for the Landing at the head of the Okanagan Lake.
The night was dark as pitch; there wasn’t a star in the sky nor was there a breath of moving air anywhere.
They reached Allison’s Wharf in quick time, roused the complaining lake-freighter and got him busy on his large gasoline launch. Not long after that a clatter of hoofs on the hard roadway, a sudden stoppage, and the sound of deep voices, betrayed the arrival of the others: Langford, Morrison, Thompson the Government Agent, and the one police official whom Phil felt was absolutely above suspicion,––Howden, who was Chief Palmer’s deputy––and Brenchfield, surly as a bear;––all powerful men and capable of giving a good account of themselves in a tight place.
They were eight, all told, with Allison in addition looking 172 after his own affairs, and they set out across the lake for the quiet little landing below the Redmans settlement, leaving their horses at Allison’s place.
“Howden,––why didn’t you bring the Chief?” asked Phil.
“Wish to hell we had! Might have saved me the trouble of coming. He’s up on the ranges somewhere. There’s a lot of cattle missing up there lately and he’s keen on catching some of the rustlers red-handed.”
“Or red-headed,” grinned Jim. “This trip might prove the way to catch them too.”