ader."

"Drift over casually and offer to buy goods. Poke around a bit. Keep
cases on 'em. Notice the wagons they steer you away from."

Tom thought it over and shook his head. "No, I don't reckon I will."

"Any particular reason?"

"Don't look to me hardly like playin' the game. I'm ferninst West
every turn of the road. He's crooked as a dog's hind laig. But it
wouldn't be right square for me to spy on him. Different with you.
That's what you're paid for. You're out to run him down any way you
can. He knows that. It's a game of hide an' go seek between you an'
him. Best man wins."

The red-coat assented at once. "Right you are, I'll get some one
else." He rose to go. "See you later maybe."

Tom nodded. "Sorry I can't oblige, but you see how it is."

"Quite. I oughtn't to have asked you."

Beresford strode briskly out of the store.

Through the window Morse saw him a moment later in whispered
conversation with Onistah. They were standing back of an outlying
shed, in such a position that they could not be seen from the road.

CHAPTER XIII

THE CONSTABLE BORES THROUGH DIFFICULTIES

The early Northern dusk was falling when Beresford dropped into the
store again. Except for two half-breeds and the clerk dickering at the
far end of the building over half a dozen silver fox furs Morse had
the place to himself.

Yet the officer took the precaution to lower his voice. "I want an
auger and a wooden plug the same size. Get 'em to me without anybody
knowing it."

The manager of the C.N. Morse & Company Northern Stores presently
shoved across the counter to him a gunny-sack with a feed of oats.
"Want it charged to the Force, I reckon?"

"Yes."

"Say, constable, I wancha to look at these moccasins I'm orderin' for
the Inspector. Is this what he wants? Or isn't it?"

Tom led the way into his office. He handed the shoe to Beresford.
"What's doin'?" he asked swiftly, between sentences.

The soldier inspected the footwear. "About right, I'd say. Thought
you'd find what you were looking for. A fellow usually does when he
goes at it real earnest."

The eyes in the brown face were twinkling merrily.

"Findin' the goods is one thing. Gettin' 'em's quite another," Tom
suggested.

The voice of one of the trappers rose in protest. "By gar, it iss what
you call dirt cheap. I make you a present. V'la!"

"Got to bore through difficulties," Beresford said. "Then you're
liable to bump into disappointment. But y