A fortnight had passed since the affair at the settlement when Hardie arrived at the Marston homestead toward supper-time. After the meal was over, he accompanied his host and Edgar to the little room used for an office.

"As I\'ve been busy since four this morning, I don\'t mean to do anything more," said George, "I suppose you don\'t smoke?"

"No," Hardie answered. "It\'s a concession I can make without much effort to our stricter brethren. I\'m inclined to believe they consider smoking almost as bad as drink. You agree with them about the latter?"

"We try to be consistent," Edgar told him. "You see, I couldn\'t very well indulge in an occasional drink when I\'ve undertaken to make those Sage Butte fellows abstainers. Anyhow, though you\'re by no means liberal in your view, you\'re practical people. As soon as I landed at Montreal, a pleasant young man, wearing a silver monogram came up to me, and offered me introductions to people who might find me a job. Though I didn\'t want one, I was grateful; and when I told him I wasn\'t one of his flock, he said it didn\'t matter. That kind of thing makes a good impression."

"How are you getting on at the settlement?"

George interposed.

Hardie sat silent for a few moments, and George saw that his eyes were anxious and his face looked worn.

"Badly," he said. "I feel I can talk to you freely, and that\'s really why I came, though I had another call to make."

"You\'re having trouble?"

"Plenty of it. I\'ve had another visit from the police, though that\'s not a very important matter; and Mrs. Nelson\'s action has raised a storm of indignation. It would be useless to move any further against the Sachem. Even this is not the worst. Our people are split up by disagreements; I\'ve been taken to task; my staunchest supporters are falling away."

"They\'ll rally," said George. "Leave those who haven\'t the courage to do so alone; you\'re better rid of them. I suppose it\'s apt to make a difference in your finances."

The clergyman colored.

"That\'s true, though it\'s hard to own. It subjects one to a strong temptation. After all, we\'re expected to keep our churches full—it\'s necessary."

"The road to success," Edgar remarked, "is comparatively easy. Always proclaim the popular view, but be a little more emphatic and go a little farther than the rest. Then they\'ll think you a genius and make haste to follow your lead."

Hardie looked at him quietly.

"There\'s another way, Mr. West, and the gate of it is narrow. I think it seldom leads to worldly fame." He paused and sighed. "It needs courage to enter, and one often shrinks."

"Well," said Edgar, "I\'ll confess that I find the popular idea, whatever it may happen to be, irritating; I like to annoy the people who hold it by pointing out their foolishness, which is partly why I\'m now farming in western Canada. George, of course, is more altruistic; though I don\'t think he ever analyzes his feelings. As soon as he sees anybody in trouble and getting beaten, he begins to strip. I\'ve a suspicion that he enjoys a fight!"

"If you would stop talking rot, we\'d get on better," George said curtly, and then turned to his visitor. "I gather that you\'re afraid of wrecking your church. It\'s an awkward situation, but I suppose you have made up your mind?"

"Yes; I must go on, if I go alone."

The man, as the others recognized, had no intention of being dramatic, but his quiet announcement had its effect, and there was silence for a moment or two. Then Edgar, who was impatient of any display of strong feeling, made an abrupt movement.

"After all," he said cheerfully, "you\'ll have Mrs. Nelson beside you, and I\'m inclined to think she would enliven any solitude."

Hardie smiled, and the lad continued:

"Now we had, perhaps, better be practical and consider how to get over the difficulties."

He grew less discursive when they fell in with his suggestion. George possessed sound sense and some power of leading, and for a while they were busy elaborating a plan of campaign, in which his advice was largely deferred to. Then there was an interruption, for Grierson, his hired man, came in.

"I was hauling hay from the big sloo when I saw the Hereford bull," he said. "He was by himself and bleeding from the shoulder. Thought I\'d better bring him home, though he walked very lame."

"Ah!" exclaimed George sharply. "I\'ll come and look at him."

The others followed and on reaching the wire-fenced corral they found the animal lying down, with its forequarter stained with blood. George sent for some water, and he soon found the wound, which was very small and round.

"It\'s a curious mark," Hardie commented.

"Yes," said George; "it\'s a bullet hole."

The surprise of the others was obvious.

"I think it\'s a hint," George explained. "We\'ll try to get him on his feet."

They succeeded, and when the beast had been led into a stall, George turned to Hardie.

"As you said you wouldn\'t stay the night, would you mind starting for the settlement now? The livery stable fellow is said to be clever at veterinary work; you might send him out, and mail a note I\'ll give you to the police."

Hardie professed his willingness to be of service, and on getting into his buggy said, with some hesitation:

"I\'m afraid you\'re right in your suspicions, and I\'m particularly sorry. In a way, I\'m responsible for this."

George smiled, rather grimly.

"One can\'t go into a fight without getting hurt; and we haven\'t come to the end of it yet. This affair won\'t cost you my support."

The clergyman\'s eyes sparkled as he held out his hand.

"I never imagined it—you have my sympathy, Mr. Lansing. It would give me the greatest pleasure to see the cowardly brute who fired that shot brought to justice."

He drove away, and George went moodily back to the house with Edgar.

"That\'s a man who has had to choose between his duty and his interest," George said; "but just now we have other things to think about. It\'s a pity I can\'t get the bullet out until help arrives."

The livery man turned up on the following day and succeeded in extracting it; and Flett made his appearance the morning after. He examined the wounded animal.

"It may have been done by accident; but, if so, it\'s curious the beast should have been hit close to a place where it would have killed him," he remarked.

"What\'s your private opinion?" George asked.

The constable smiled.

"As we haven\'t gone very far yet, I\'ll reserve it." He took up the bullet. "Winchester or Marlin; usual caliber; nothing to be made of that. Now let\'s go and take a look at the place where the shot was fired."

They traced back the path of the wounded beast from the spot where Grierson had found it, by the red splashes that here and there stained the short grass of the unfenced prairie. At last they stopped where the ground was broken by a few low sandy ridges sprinkled with small birches and poplars, and Flett pointed to the mark of hoofs in a strip of almost bare, light soil.

"This is where he was hit," he said. "You can see how he started off, going as hard as he could. Next, we\'ve got to find the spot the man fired from."

It proved difficult. The dry grass revealed nothing, and they vainly searched several of the neighboring hillocks, where it grew less thickly. Scorching sunshine beat down on them and a strong breeze blew the sand about. At length Flett pointed to a few half-obliterated footprints on the bare summit of a small rise.

"The fellow stopped here with his feet well apart. He\'d stand like that while he put up his gun. Sit down and smoke while I copy these marks."

He proceeded to do so carefully, having brought some paper from the homestead.

"Have you any reason for thinking it was a standing shot he took?"
George asked.

"I haven\'t; I wish I had. Quite a lot depends upon his position."

George nodded.

"So it struck me. We\'ll look round for some more conclusive signs when you have finished."

Before this happened. Flora Grant rode up.

"I was going back from Forster\'s when I noticed you moving about the hills," she explained. "I made this round to find out what you were doing."

George told her, and her sympathy was obvious.

"I\'m very sorry; but my father warned you," she said. "I\'m afraid you\'re finding this an expensive campaign."

"I can put up with it, so long as I have my friends\' support."

"I think you can count on that," she smiled. "But what is Flett\'s theory?"

"If he has one, he\'s clever at hiding it," Edgar broke in; "but I\'m doubtful. In my opinion, he knows the value of the professional air of mystery."

"When I see any use in it, I can talk," retorted Flett. "What\'s your notion, Mr. Lansing? You don\'t agree that the fellow shot your beast from here?"

"No," answered George. "Of course, there are only two explanations of the thing, and the first is that it was an accident. In that case, the fellow must have been out after antelope or cranes."

"There\'s an objection: it\'s close season; though I wouldn\'t count too much on that. You farmers aren\'t particular when there\'s nobody around............