in of yours devise
something to land him on this?"

"Weel ye may ask!" answered Jim, breaking into the Doric, "and I canna
answer ye.

"We can't prove a thing on him. He would plead absolute ignorance of
the entire affair; that he had been away for weeks and only got in
yesterday with Royce Pederstone, and was at the dance when it
happened. Everybody would believe him and sympathise with him too
because of an apparent endeavour to blacken the character of a public
man, a prominent citizen and a local benefactor--one who himself had
lost so much by the thefts--for, mark you, Brenchfield has made much
of it in his conversations."

"Can't Chief Palmer make the half-breeds talk? They will surely be
pretty sore over the raw deal that has been handed out to them."

"Palmer be jiggered! He is another of Brenchfield's cronies, and is
feathering his nest like the rest of them. I'll be very much surprised
if the innocent Howden isn't fired by this time for his share in this
morning's work. I'm half sorry I dragged him into it."

"Couldn't a good lawyer wriggle something out of the Indians at the
trial?"

"He might,--but the Indians will be darned well paid to keep their
mouths shut. Believe me!--it'll fizzle out. You watch and see!"

Jim sat quiet for a bit, then he began again.

"And that kind of animal has the nerve to want to marry little Eilie
Pederstone. Oh, hell!--I'd better stop or I'll burst a blood-vessel or
something.

"Say!"

"Speak on!"

"Are you going to work after breakfast?"

"Of course!" answered Phil. "Aren't you?"

"No!"

"Are you going to bed?"

"Not yet! This is Saturday morning, man. My usual monthly 'Penny
Horrible' is only half finished and it has to be ready before mail
time."

Phil laughed.

"What is the name of it this month, Jim?"

"'Two Fingered Pete's Come-back, a Backwoods Mystery.'"

"Sounds exciting!" remarked Phil. "I think I would like to read that
one. Save a copy for me, Jim, when it comes along."

"De'il the fear! It'll never be said that Jim Langford, alias Captain
Mayne Plunkett, alias Aunt Christina, ever put anything your way that
would fire you, in your rashness, to disgrace me and make a fool of
yourself."

Jim changed the subject again.

"Phil, why don't you cut that bluffer, Brenchfield, out?"

"Me? What harm have I done, Jim?"

"That'll do, laddie. You can't brazen it out that way. Man, I'd give
my wee pinkie to see it happen."

"Oh, don't talk rot