It was a hot morning when Sergeant¹ Stimson and Corporal Payne rode towards the railroad across the prairie. The grassy² levels rolled away before them, white and parched³, into the blue distance, where willow⁴ grove⁵ and straggling bluff⁶ floated on the dazzling horizon, and the fibrous dust rose in little puffs⁷ beneath the horses' feet, until Stimson pulled his beast up in the shadow of the birches by the bridge, and looked back towards Silverdale. There, wooden homesteads girt about with barns and granaries rose from the whitened waste, and behind some of them stretched great belts of wheat. Then the Sergeant, understanding the faith of the men who had sown that splendid grain, nodded, for he was old and wise, and had seen many adverse⁹ seasons, and the slackness that comes, when hope has gone, to beaten men.  
"They will reap this year--a handful of cents on every bushel," he said. "A fine gentleman is Colonel Barrington, but some of them will be thankful there's a better head than the one he has, at Silverdale."
 
"Yes, sir," said Corporal Payne, who wore the double chevrons¹⁰ for the first time, and surmised¹¹ that his companion's observations were not without their purpose.
 
Stimson glanced at the bridge. "Good work," he said. "It will save them dollars on every load they haul in. A gambler built it! Do they teach men to use the ax in Montana saloons?"
 
The corporal smiled, and waited for what he felt would come. He was no longer the hot-blooded lad who had come out from the old country, for he had felt the bonds of discipline, and been taught restraint and silence on the lonely marches of the prairie.
 
"I have," he said tentatively, "fancied there was something a little unusual about the thing."
 
Stimson nodded, but his next observation was apparently¹² quite unconnected with the topic. "You were a raw colt when I got you, Payne, and the bit galled¹³ you now and then, but you had good hands on a bridle¹⁴, and somebody who knew his business had taught you to sit a horse in the old country. Still, you were not as handy with brush and fork at stable duty,"
 
The bronze seemed to deepen in the corporal's face, but it was turned steadily¹⁵ towards his officer. "Sir," he said, "has that anything to do with what you were speaking of?"
 
Stimson laughed softly. "That depends, my lad. Now, I've taught you to ride straight, and to hold your tongue. I've asked you no questions, but I've eyes in my head, and it's not without a purpose you've been made corporal. You're the kind they give commissions to, now and then--and your folks in the old country never raised you for a police trooper."
 
"Can you tell me how to win one?" ask the corporal, and Stimson noticed the little gleam in his eyes.
 
"There's one road to advancement¹⁶, and you know where to find the trooper's duty laid down plain," he said, with a dry smile. "Now, you saw Lance Courthorne once or twice back there in Alberta?"
 
"Yes, sir, but never close to."
 
"And you knew farmer Winston?"
 
Payne appeared thoughtful. "Of course I met him a few times on the prairie, always on horseback with his big hat on, but Winston is dead--that is, I heard him break through the ice."
 
The men's eyes met for a moment, and Stimson smiled curiously¹⁷. "There is," he said, "still a warrant out for him. Now, you know where I am going, and, while I am away, you will watch Courthorne and his homestead. If anything curious happens there, you will let me know. The new man has instructions to find you any duty that will suit you."
 
The corporal looked at his officer steadily, and again there was comprehension in his eyes. Then he nodded. "Yes, sir. I have wondered whether, if Shannon could have spoken another word that night, it would have been Winston the warrant was issued for."
 
Stimson raised a restraining hand. "My lad," he said dryly, "the police trooper who gets advancement is the one that carries out his orders and never questions them, until he can show that they are wrong. Then he uses a good deal of discretion¹⁸. Now you know your duty?"
 
"Yes, sir," said Payne, and Stimson, shaking his bridle, cantered off across the prairie.
 
Then, seeing no need to waste time, the corporal rode towards Courthorne's homestead, and found its owner stripping a binder¹⁹. Pieces of the machine lay all around him, and from the fashion in which he handled them it was evident that he was capable of doing what the other men at Silverdale left to the mechanic at the settlement. Payne wondered, as he watched him, who had taught the gambler to use spanner and file.
 
"I will not trouble you if you are busy, Mr. Courthorne, but if you would give me the returns the Bureau ask for, it would save me riding round again," he said.
 
"I'm afraid I can't," said Winston. "You see, I haven't had the papers."
 
"Trooper Bacon told me he had given them to you."
 
"I don't seem to remember it," said Winston.
 
Payne laughed. "One forgets things when he is busy. Still, you had them--because you signed for them."
 
Winston looked up suddenly, and in another moment smiled, but he was a trifle too late, for Payne had seen his astonishment²⁰, and that he was now on guard.
 
"Well," he said, "I haven't got them now. Send me a duplicate. You have, no doubt, some extra forms at the outpost."
 
Payne decided²¹ that the man had never had the documents, but was too clever to ask any questions or offer explanations that might involve him. It was evident he knew that somebody had personated him, and the fact sent a little thrill through the corporal; he was at least on the trail.
 
"I'll bring you one round the next time I'm in the neighborhood," he said, and Winston sat still with the spanner lying idle in his hand when he rode away.
 
He realized that Courthorne had taken the papers, and his face grew anxious as well as grim. The harvest was almost ready now, and a little while would see it in. Then his work would be over, but he had of late felt a growing fear lest something, that would prevent its accomplishment²², might happen in the meanwhile. Then almost fiercely he resumed the stripping of the machine.
 
An hour or two later Dane rode up, and sat still in his saddle looking down on Winston with a curious smile on his face.
 
"I was down at the settlement, and found a curious story going round," he said. "Of course, it had its humorous aspect, but I don't know that the thing was quite discreet²³. You see, Barrington has once or twice had to put a stern check on the indulgence in playfulness of that kind by some of the younger men, and you are becoming an influence at Silverdale."
 
"You naturally believed what you heard. It was in keeping with what you have seen of me?"
 
Dane's eyes twinkled. "I didn't want to, and I must admit that it isn't. Still, a good many of you quiet men are addicted²⁴ to occasionally astonishing your friends, and I can't help a fancy that you could do that kind of thing as well as most folks, if it pleased you. In fact, there was an artistic²⁵ finish to the climax²⁶ that suggested your usual thoroughness."
 
"It did?" said Winston grimly, remembering his recent visitor and one or two of Courthorne's Albertan escapades. "Still, as I'm afraid I haven't the dramatic instinct, do you mind telling me how?"
 
Dane laughed. "Well, it is probable there are other men who would have kissed the girl, but I don't know that it would have occurred to them to smash a decanter on the irate²⁷ lover's head."
 
Winston felt his fingers tingle²⁸ for a grip on Courthorne's throat. "And that's what I've been doing lately? You, of course, concluded that after conducting myself in an examplary fashion an astonishing time it was a trifling²⁹ lapse³⁰?"
 
"Well," said Dane dryly, "as I admitted, it appeared somewhat out of your usual line, but when I heard that a man from the settlement had been ejected with violence from your homestead, what could one believe?"
 
"Colonel Barrington told you that!"
 
"No," said Dane, "you know he didn't. Still, he had a hired man riding a horse he'd bought, and I believe--though it is not my affair--Maud Barrington was there. Now, of course, one feels diffident about anything that may appear like preaching, but you see, a good many of us are following you, and I wouldn't like you to have many little lapses³¹ of that kind while I'm backing you. You and I have done with these frivolities some time ago, but there are lads here they might appeal to. I should be pleased if you could deny the story."
 
Winston's face was grim. "I'm afraid it would not suit me to do as much just now," he said. "Still, between you and I, do you believe it likely that I would fly at that kind of game?"
 
Dane laughed softly. "Well," he said, "tastes differ, and the girl is pretty, while you know, after all, they're very much the same. We have, however, got to look at the thing sensibly, and you admit you can't deny it."
 
"I told you it wouldn't suit me."
 
"Then there is a difference?"
 
Winston nodded. "You must make the best of that, but the others may believe exactly what they please. It will be a favor to me if you remember it."
 
Dane smiled curiously. "Then I think it is enough for me, and you will overlook my presumption³². Courthorne, I wonder now and then when I shall altogether understand you!"
 
"The time will come," said Winston dryly, to hide what he felt, for his comrade's simple avowal³³ had been wonderfully eloquent³⁴. Then Dane touched his horse with his heel and rode away.
 
It was two or three weeks later when Winston, being requested to do so, drove over to attend one of the assemblies at Silverdale Grange. It was dark when he reached the house, for the nights were drawing in, but because of the temperature few of the great oil lamps were lighted, and the windows were open wide. Somebody had just finished singing when he walked into the big general room, and he would have preferred another moment to make his entrance, but disdained³⁵ to wait. He, however, felt a momentary³⁶ warmth in his face when Miss Barrington, stately as when he had first seen her in her rustling³⁷ silk and ancient laces, came forward to greet him with her usual graciousness. He knew that every eye was upon them, and guessed why she had done so much.
 
What she said was of no moment, but the fact that she had received him without sign of coldness was eloq............