I understand," he began
stiffly, "that you intend to prefer certain charges against
MacNair--that you demand his arrest?"

"I should _think_ you would understand it!" retorted the girl. "I have
told you three or four times."

The officer flushed slightly and shifted the hat from his right to his
left hand.

"Just step inside, MacNair," he said, and then to the girl: "I'll
listen to you now, if you please. You must make specific charges, you
know--not just hearsay. Arresting a man in this country is a serious
matter, Miss Elliston. We are seven hundred miles from a jail, and the
law expects us to use discretion in making an arrest. It don't do us
any good at headquarters to bring in a man unless we can back up our
charge with strong evidence, because the item of transportation of
witnesses and prisoner may easily run up into big money. On the other
hand it's just as bad if we fail or delay in bringing a guilty man to
book. What we want is specific evidence. I don't tell you this to
discourage any just complaint, but only to show you that we've got to
have direct and specific evidence. Now, Miss Elliston, I'll hear what
you've got to say."

Chloe sank into a chair and motioned the others to be seated. "We may
as well sit down while we talk. I will try to tell you only the facts
as I myself have seen them--only such as I could swear to on a witness
stand." The officer bowed, and Chloe plunged directly into the subject.

"In the first place," she began, "when I brought my outfit in I noticed
in the scows, certain pieces with the name of MacNair painted on the
burlap. The rest of the outfit, I think, consisted wholly of my own
freight. I wondered at the time who MacNair was, but didn't make any
inquiries until I happened to mention the matter to Mr. Lapierre. That
was on Slave River. Mr. Lapierre seemed very much surprised that any
of MacNair's goods should be in his scows. He examined the pieces and
then with an ax smashed them in. They contained whiskey."

"And he destroyed it? Can you swear it was whiskey?" asked the officer.

"Certainly, I can swear it was whiskey! I saw it and _smelled_ it."

"Can you explain why Lapierre did not know of these pieces, until you
called his attention to them?"

Chloe hesitated a moment and tapped nervously on the table with her
fingers. "Yes," she answered, "I can. Mr. Lapierre took charge of the
outfit only that morning."

"Who was the boss scowman? Who