Liquor was taboo, even to the whites, but the Mounted had never been able to stop its import. The Indians had secured a large quantity—large enough to incite them to wondrous deeds—with the result that a number of them had made a pilgrimage to the Happy Hunting ground.
The little town of Kingsburg was a sore spot to the Mounted. Here lived Monk Magee, a big, burly, bull-necked individual, who hated the Mounted, and was a never-ending source of irritation to them. The town's close proximity to the border of the United States made it a useful place for the outlaws of both sides of the boundary. To them it was but a mythical line, to be crossed at will; a line which gave them sort of a sanctuary and blocked the efforts of law enforcement.
Magee was proprietor of a hotel—the Magee Rest. No one, or at least very few people ever put up at his hostelry; but Magee waxed prosperous and never complained over poor business. The border element came to Magee's place, and he was usually surrounded by a bunch of questionable characters. But the Mounted were unable to fasten horse or cattle stealing or liquor running onto Magee.
The day before his forced resignation Bud had gone to Kingsburg, hoping for something to happen to break the monotony—and it did. At Magee's place Bud ran into two punchers from just over the Montana border, and Bud knew these two men as rustlers. They knew Bud, but did not recognize him.
The place was orderly enough, as far as Bud could see, but he was, as he expressed it, "a little leary of the whole outfit." Magee was outwardly friendly to Bud, and talked to him about the Indian liquor selling trouble.
"I sabe how they suspect me," said Magee confidentially, "and mebbe I don't blame 'em. I've got a little good liquor, Conley—for my friends."
"Thasall right," admitted Bud. "I ain't ridin' yuh, am I, Magee? 'F yo're sellin' hootch to the reds, you'll get yours sooner or later. The Mounties always get their man, yuh know."
"Sure, I sabe that, Conley, but just t' show yuh that I ain't concealin' anythin', I'll ask yuh to have a little drink from my private stock. Whatcha say?"
"I'll say that she's a long dry spell," said Bud.