A distinct cry of amazement from the foremost rider was immediately heard. A touch of the quirt sent his horse leaping toward the Rambler, whose arms dropped to his side.
An explosive exclamation came from the officer, so loud, so full of pent-up wrath as to cause Tom Clifton to step hastily back.
He looked up at the man.
“You!—You again!” cried a furious voice.
“Billy Ashe!” fell from Tom’s lips in tones of amazement.
The two faced each other. There was a moment of tense—dramatic silence.
The young trooper of the Northwest Mounted was apparently too dumfounded to follow up his speech. The other horsemen galloped up, while the crowd rushed pell-mell from the ranch-house.
“I can hardly believe it!” came in Witmar’s voice. He turned toward the other men. “These are the very chaps we told you about.”
“Ah! Good-morning, Mr. Ashe!” remarked Sam Randall, pleasantly. “This, indeed, is a joyous surprise!”
The trooper found his voice.