he bigger man's single-minded
generosity. To the end Bill felt confident, and remained quite
undisturbed.

There were still fully two hours of daylight left when Charlie finally
rose from his seat upon the veranda.

He smiled down at the big figure of the brother he so affectionately
regarded.

"We'll need to set about getting your baggage sent through from
Moosemin to-morrow," he said. Then he added with a quizzical gleam in
his eyes: "Guess you've got the checks all right?"

Bill nodded with profound gravity, and dived into one of his pockets.

"Sure," he replied, dragging forth a bunch of metal discs on a strap.
"Five pieces."

"Good." Charlie nodded. His brother's unconsciousness amused him.
Then, after a moment, his gaze drifted across the valley, and came to
rest on the little home of the Setons, and he went on reflectively, "I
need to get around a piece before dark," he said. Then with an
unmistakable question in his dark eyes: "Maybe you'll fancy a walk
around--meantime?"

Bill's eyes lit good humoredly.

"Which means I'm not wanted," he said with a laugh.

Then he, too, rose. He stretched himself like some great contented
dog.

"I've a notion to get a peek at the village," he said. "I'll call
along down at the saloon and hunt Fyles up. Guess I owe him a drink
for--finding me."

At the mention of Fyles's name a curious look changed the expression
of his brother's regard. A short laugh that had no mirth in it was the
prompt reply.

"You can't buy Fyles a drink in Rocky Springs," Charlie exclaimed.
"Maybe you can buy all the drink _you_ want. But there's not a
saloonkeeper in the Northwest Territories would hand you one for
Fyles. This is prohibition territory, and I guess Fyles is hated to
death--hereabouts."

For a moment Bill's eyes looked absurdly serious.

"I see," he demurred. "You--hate him--too?"

Charlie nodded.

"For--that?" suggested Bill.

Charlie shrugged. "I certainly have no use for Inspector Fyles," he
declared. "Maybe it's for his work, maybe it isn't. It don't matter
either way."

The manner of Charlie's reply reminded his brother that his question
had been unnecessarily pointed, and he hastened to make amends.

"I'm kind of sorry, Charlie," he said, his face flushing with
contrition. "I didn't think. You see, I hadn't----"

But the other waved his regret aside.

"Don't worry," he said quickly. "Guess you can't hurt me that way. I
was thinking on other lines. What d