his prisoner were picking their way across the ice,
and she was hoping that Winton would give her a chance to requite him,
if only with a look.

But it was Town-Marshal Peter Biggin, affectionately known to his
constituents as "Bigginjin Pete," who gave her the coveted
opportunity. Instead of disappearing decently with his captive, the
marshal made the mistake of his life by marching Winton up the track
to the private car, thrusting him forward, and saying: "Here's yer
meat, Guv'nor. What-all 'ud ye like fer me to do with hit now I've
got it?"

Now it is safe to assume that the Rajah had no intention of appearing
thus openly as the instigator of Winton's arrest. Hence, if a fierce
scowl and a wordless oath could maim, it is to be feared that the
overzealous Mr. Biggin would have been physically disqualified on the
spot. As it was, Mr. Darrah's ebullient wrath could find no adequate
speech forms, and in the eloquent little pause Winton had time to
smile up at Miss Carteret and to wish her the pleasantest of
good-mornings.

But the Rajah's handicap was not permanent.

"Confound you, seh!" he exploded. "I'm not a justice of the peace! If
you've made an arrest, you must have had a warrant for it, and you
ought to know what to do with your prisoneh."

"I'm dashed if I do," objected the simple-hearted Mr. Biggin. "I
allowed you wanted him."

Winton laughed openly.

"Simplify it for him, Mr. Darrah. We all know that it was your move to
stop the work, and you have stopped it--for the moment. What is the
charge, and where is it answerable?"

The Rajah dropped the mask and spoke to the point.

"The cha'ge, seh, is trespass, and it is answerable in Judge
Whitcomb's cou't in Carbonate. The plaintiff in this particular case
is John Doe, the supposable owneh of that mining claim up yondeh. In
the next it will probably be Richa'd Roe. You are fighting a losing
battle, seh."

Winton's smile showed his teeth.

"That remains to be seen," he countered coolly.

The Rajah waved a shapely hand toward the opposite embankment, where
the tracklayers were idling in silent groups waiting for some one in
authority to tell them what to do.

"We can do that every day, Misteh Winton. And each separate individual
arrest will cost your company twelve hours, or such a matteh--the time
required for you to go to Carbonate to give bond for your appearance."

During this colloquy Virginia had held her ground stubbornly, this
though she