s. After all, it was not so bad. It was a service that
made men, and he thought of the English remittance-man, whose father was
a lord of something-or-other, and who was learning to ride and shoot out
there with red-headed, raucous-voiced Moody. There began to stir in him
again the old desire for action, and he was glad when word was sent to
him that Inspector MacGregor wished to see him in his office.

The big inspector was pacing back and forth when Philip came in.

"Sit down, Steele, sit down," he said. "Take it easy, man--and have a
cigar."

If MacGregor had suddenly gone into a fit Philip could not have been
more surprised than at these words, as he stood with his cap in his hand
before the desk of the fiery-mustached inspector, who was passing his
box of choice Havanas. There are tightly drawn lines of distinction in
the Royal Mounted. As Philip had once heard the commissioner say, "Every
man in the service is a king--but there are different degrees of kings,"
and for a barracks man to be asked to sit in the inspector's office
and smoke was a sensational breach of the usual code. But as he had
distinctly heard the invitation to sit, and to smoke, Philip proceeded
to do both, and waited in silence for the next mine to explode under his
feet. And there was a certain ease in his manner of doing these things
which would have assured most men that he was not unaccustomed to
sitting in the presence of greatness.

The inspector seemed to notice this. For a moment he stood squarely in
front of Steele, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, a twinkle in
the cold, almost colorless eyechuckling, companionable laugh, such as
finds its vent in the fellowship of equals, but which is seldom indulged
in by a superior before an inferior in the R.N.W.M. Police.

"Mighty good cigars, eh, Steele?" he asked, turning slowly toward the
window. "The commissioner sent 'em up to me from Regina. Nothing like a
good cigar on a dreary day like this. Whew, listen to the wind--straight
from Medicine Hat!"

For a few moments he looked out upon the cheerless drab roofs of the
barracks, with their wisps of pale smoke swirling upward into the leaden
sky; counted the dozen gnarled and scrubby trees, as had become a habit
with him; rested his eyes upon the black and shriveled remnants of
summer flower-beds thrusting their frost-shrunken stalks through the
snow, and then, almost as if he were speaking to himself, he said,
"Steele, are you beaut