hey were not given to much talk, due, no
doubt, to long years in the wilderness. Neither were they carried away
by any sudden impulse on the spur of the moment. They never had
anything in common with Curly and his gang, although they had often
listened to their vapid boastings. So now when they learned of the
despicable affair up the narrow creek, they did not take matters into
their own hands, and visit upon the miscreants swift and dire
punishment. They decided, after a brief consultation with Frontier
Samson, to keep close guard upon Curly and hand him over to the Mounted
Police, who were expected back the next day. His companions would be
allowed their freedom until needed.

"Such actions must be stopped," one big weather-beaten veteran of many
trails declared. "Curly and his bunch, as well as all others of such
breed, must learn first as last that the Police are here to give
British justice, and a fair trial to every man, no matter who he is.
It's not for any of us to deal with such brutes as Curly and his gang."

"I agree with you, Tom," another replied. "But it's a pity we didn't
hear sooner about what was taking place up the draw. We'd a been there
in no time. I can't understand how that Indian Titsla learned the
news. He was here yesterday selling meat, but he never mentioned a
word to us."

"I imagine he thought the hull bunch of yez was in the plot," Samson
replied, "an' so he hit the trail fer Glen West as fast as he could.
That's the way with them Injuns." Then he turned suddenly and walked
over to Shorty. "Say, old man," he began, "rustle up some grub fer
them Injuns outside, will ye? I'd like to give 'em a good feed before
they leave. An' hand out something to the rest of us while yer at it.
I'm most starved, an' I guess the rest are, too. I'll foot the bill."

In less than an hour Shorty had the Indians fed, and when Samson had
provided each with a large plug of tobacco, they all left in the best
of spirits for Glen West.

Reynolds' entire solicitude was for Glen. He thought not of himself,
and paid little heed to the miners as they discussed Curly and his
companions. His only concern was for her who was sitting in the one
arm-chair the room contained with such a weary look in her eyes. The
stern expression had vanished from her face, and she was the real Glen
again. She did not care to talk, although she listened intently to
everything that was said. But after the miners had lef