nto
the snow. Getting up with some trouble he reached the homestead door
and walked heavily into the room where he sank, gasping, into a chair.
He felt faint and dizzy, he could scarcely breathe; but those
sensations grew less troublesome as he recovered from the violent
change of temperature. Throwing off his furs, he noticed that Flett
sat smoking near the stove.

"Here's some coffee," said the constable. "It's pretty lucky Grierson
found you. I can't remember a worse night."

George drank the coffee. He still felt heavy and partly dazed; his
mind was lethargic, and his hands and feet tingled painfully with the
returning warmth. He knew that there was something he ought to tell
Flett, but it was a few minutes before he could think clearly.

"I met a team near the bluff and lost it again almost immediately," he
mumbled finally.

Flett's face became intent.

"Did the men who were with it see you? Which way were they going?"

"No," said George sleepily. "Anyway, though I called I didn't get an
answer. I think they were going west."

"And there's no homestead for several leagues, except Langside's shack.
They'll camp there sure."

"I don't see why they shouldn't," George remarked with languid
indifference.

"Hasn't it struck you why those fellows should be heading into waste
prairie on a night like this? Guess what they've got in the wagon's a
good enough reason. If the snow's not too bad, they'll pull out for
the Indian reservation soon as it's light to-morrow."

"You think they have liquor with them?" asked George.

Flett nodded and walked toward the door, and George felt the sudden
fall of temperature and heard the scream of the wind. In a minute or
two, however, the constable reappeared with Edgar.

"I'd get them sure; they're in the shack right now," Flett declared.

"You would never find it," Edgar remonstrated. "We had hard enough
work to strike the homestead, and we were on a beaten trail, which will
have drifted up since then. You'll have to drop the idea--it's quite
impossible."

"It's blamed hard luck," grumbled Flett. "I may trail the fellows, but
I certainly won't get them with the liquor right in the wagon, as it
will be now, and without something of that kind it's mighty hard to
secure a conviction. I've no use for the average jury; what we want is
power to drop on to a man without any fuss or fooling and fix him so he
won't make more trouble."

"It's fortunate you'll neve