“Morrison of the O.K. Supply Company says he has had over seven thousand dollars’ worth of feed and flour stolen from his warehouses inside of six months. The Pioneer Traders never give out what they lose.”
“You, yourself, have lost quite a bit, haven’t you, Brenchfield?” put in Pederstone.
“Yes!––from time to time, but I could never lay my finger definitely on the shortage. My records have been faulty in the past, but I’m going to keep a better watch on it for the future.”
“Well!” returned the smith, “the fewer of Pierre Qu’appelle’s thieving kind we have in the community, the better for all of us.”
“We pretty nearly had a newcomer of the same brand when you were at Enderby, John.”
“So I heard! How did it finish, Ben? I heard they got him. How did they manage it?”
“Better ask the Mayor,” said the editor guardedly. “He ought to know how these things finish. Who was the man, Graham? How did the chase end?”
“Oh!” muttered Brenchfield, “it was some runaway from Ukalla. He landed in here under a freight train, and the detectives were riding in the caboose and he didn’t know it.”
Todd laughed.