"I'll be along quick as I can," the other answered, and shut the window.

While he waited, Curtis listened with strained attention. He was inclined to think that Glover had already left the house, which must nevertheless be searched, but he could hear nothing except the dreary wail of wind in the neighboring bluff. His fingers were so numbed that he could scarcely hold his carbine, his horse stood wearily with drooping head, and when a minute or two had pa.s.sed Curtis struck the door violently. It opened, and Jepson stood in the entrance, holding a lamp.

"All alone?" he remarked good-humoredly. "Where's your partner? But come in; it's fierce to-night."

"Then stand out of my way. I've come for Glover."

Jepson laughed.

"Looked as if you were after somebody. He isn't here, but you had better see for yourself. Walk right in; you're welcome to find him."

The house contained four small rooms, which had nothing in them that would hide a man, and in a minute or two Curtis sprang out of the door and scrambled to his saddle. He did not think Glover would seek refuge in any of the outbuildings, and he rode toward the thin bluff that hid the ravine. The man might have reached the trees, unseen, by keeping the house between himself and the slope down which Curtis had come. He had not left the house long before he heard the sharp drumming of a gallop, and drove his horse at the belt of timber. All had turned out as he had expected. Stanton had headed off Glover as he slipped away down the ravine, and the outlaw had broken out to the north, making for a tract of lonely, bluff-strewn country. He was now between the corporal and the trooper, and his capture might be looked for, provided that Curtis's mount could bear a sharp gallop, which was doubtful.

The sides of the ravine were steep and clothed with brush, there were fallen logs in the fringing bluff, but Curtis urged his jaded horse mercilessly toward the timber, and went through it with rotten branches smashing under him. Once or twice the beast stumbled, but it kept its feet, and in a few more moments they reeled down the declivity. A fall might result in the rider's getting a broken leg and afterward freezing to death, but Curtis took risks of this nature lightly, and, reaching the bottom safely, somewhat to his surprise, he struggled up the opposite ascent.

From the summit he saw two dark, mounted figures pressing across the open plain some distance apart. By riding straight out from the ravine he thought that he could cut off the leader. His weariness had fallen from him, the mad drumming of hoofs fired his blood, and as he burst out of the timber at a gallop the moon came through. The fugitive seemed to hear him, for he altered his course a little--he could not swerve much without approaching Stanton--and for a few minutes Curtis shortened the distance between them. Then his horse began to flag; it looked as if Glover might escape, after all, though he must still draw nearer to the trooper before he got away.

Curtis, roughly calculating speed and distance, pulled up his horse.

Springing from the saddle, he flung himself down in the snow, and for a few seconds gripped his carbine tight. Then there was a flash and little spirts of snow leaped up one after another ahead of the outlaw. Curtis pressed down the rear sight and fired again; but Glover was still riding hard, with Stanton dropping behind him. At the third shot Glover's horse went down in a struggling heap, hiding its rider. A few moments later the man reappeared, and began to run, but he stopped as Stanton came down on him at a gallop, and Curtis got up hastily. Glover made a sign of submission, and the next minute Stanton sprang to the ground beside him.

"Hold up your hands!" he ordered sharply, and there was a clink as the irons snapped to.

After that the trooper turned to Curtis, who was hurrying toward them.

"Lend me your carbine; mine's clean."

He walked to the fallen horse, which was struggling feebly, and, stooping down he examined it. Then there was a crash and a puff of smoke, and he rejoined the corporal.

"Nothing else that could be done," he explained.

Curtis spoke to the prisoner.

"Come along. You had better not try to break away."

They went back to the homestead where they found Jepson waiting for them.

He looked disturbed.

"I told you he wasn't here," he said. "How was I to know he was hiding in the ravine?"

Curtis gave him a searching glance.

"We'll consider that later. I want your team and wagon, some blankets, and driving-robes."

"Am I bound to outfit the police?"

"I guess you had better. Your record's none too good."

He led his prisoner into the kitchen, where the stove was burning, and, laying his carbine on the table, he loosed the handcuffs and bade the man take off his long coat.

"Go through his pockets, Stanton," he said.

The trooper did as he was told, but nothing of any importance was produced. The man was not armed, and there were only a few silver coins and bills for small amounts in his possession. Curtis stood wearily, regarding him with a thoughtful smile.

"Where did you get that jacket, Glover?" he asked.

"Where do you generally get such things? At the store."

"Just so," said Curtis. "I can't see why you didn't buy one that fitted you." He turned suddenly to Jepson. "Bring me his jacket."

The farmer made an abrupt movement, and then seemed to pull himself up, and stood still.

"I've no use for that kind of fooling; he has it on!"

"I don't think so," said Curtis meaningly. "Give Stanton a light and he'll look for it."

The trooper came back in a few minutes with a garment which he had found under a bed, and Curtis bade him put it on the prisoner.

"Right size, same stuff as the trousers, and worn about as much," he remarked. "Now you can take it off and search it."

There was nothing in the pockets, but after a careful examination Stanton felt a lump inside the lining. He ripped that, and took out a wad of carefully folded bills. On opening them, he found that they were for twenty dollars each, and clean. The corporal's face grew suddenly intent.

"Where did you get them?" he asked.

"You can find out!" muttered Glover, who had shown signs of dismay.

Curtis turned to Jepson.

"It looks as if he trusted you farther than I would; but harness your team quick, and if your brother's hanging round outside, tell him that he'll run up against trouble if he interferes."

They sat down and waited until the farmer brought a wagon to the door, and then they drove away through the stinging cold with their prisoner.

CHAPTER XXIV

MURIEL PROVES OBDURATE

Some time after leaving Jepson's Curtis was joined by two police troopers, despatched by the sergeant who had telegraphed to him. He handed over his prisoner and the wagon to them, though he asked permission to keep the wad of bills. Then Stanton unhitched the jaded horses from the back of the vehicle, and while the others drove back to the west he and Curtis rode on to the post. Reaching it, half frozen, in the morning, they filled up the stove and went to sleep until supper time. When the meal was over they sat down to smoke and talk.

Stanton felt lazily good-humored. A sound sleep had refreshed him, and though his limbs still ached, he was enjoying the pleasant, physical reaction which usually succeeds fatigue and exposure to the arctic frost.

What was better, he had a.s.sisted in the successful completion of an arduous piece of work. Curtis lay back in a chair opposite him, pipe in mouth, his expression suggesting quiet satisfaction.

"Toes feeling pretty good?" he inquired by and by.

"I'm glad to say they are, though I thought I was in for trouble,"

Stanton said with a deprecatory smile. "I allow that frost-bite's a thing I'm easy scared about, after the patrol I made with Stafford through the northern bush last winter. Got his foot wet with mushy snow crossing a rapid where the ice was working, and it froze bad; had to pack him the last two hundred miles on the sled, with the dogs getting used up, and the grub running out. They paid him off at Regina and sent him home; but Stafford will never put on an ordinary boot again."