"Oh, just a wee, short kind o' a rough lookin', dirty kind o' a mannie, wi' a horse."

"What kind of a horse did he have?"

"To tell ye the truth, I didna pay muckle attention to the beastie, but I think it was brown coloured, wi' a white patch on its e'e. Oh, ay! and it was lame, for when he went aff I could see it hobblin' on its fore legs as it galloped doon the road."

"All right!" said Phil. "If you send Betsy up to put the room in order, everything will be O.K."

"I'm right sorry I wasna more parteecular, Mr. Ralston, but I didna think for a minute except that you would be anxious for your spurs. A letter like that would deceive the very Lord himsel'."

"Don't you worry now! I paid only a dollar and a half for the spurs, and I have had that much wear out of them, so they don't owe me anything."

At the same time, Phil himself worried considerably over the matter, for closer inspection betrayed the fact that his little box of private papers and letters had been burst open and examined; also that his leather letter-case--in fact everything likely to contain doc.u.ments of any kind--had been scrutinised.

As he bathed and dressed himself, he still worried, until it occured to him that this might be some of Brenchfield's doings. He wondered, and then he laughed to himself at the chances the would-be thief had taken to get--nothing.

Once more Phil lost patience with himself, as he thought of his foolishness in getting rid of that confession of Brenchfield's; and yet, in destroying it he had merely acted up to the feeling and good intentions he had had at the time.

He took a turn outside. At the top of the hill, at the corner, little Smiler, with a cleaner face than usual, ran out from the end of a house and stood up in front of Phil.

"Hullo kiddie! What's the good word?"

Smiler just grinned.

"Smiler!" inquired Phil, "you see a little man to-day on a brown horse with a white eye?"

Smiler looked as serious as was possible for his permanently crooked face, then he nodded intelligently. He pointed to his leg and went a few steps limping.

"Yes, yes!" exclaimed Phil, "horse got a lame leg!"

Smiler nodded.

"Where did you see him?"

Smiler pointed in the direction of the hill.

"Up near my place?"

The boy nodded again.

"Where did he go?"

Smiler shook his head this time.

"Too bad!" exclaimed Phil.

"If you see him again, anywhere, Smiler, run in and tell me, will you?

I'll be at the Kenora for a bit."

Smiler nodded, delighted that he was going to have a chance to be of service to the big man he had taken such a fancy to.

"Here!" Phil handed him twenty-five cents, and the boy ran off in the direction of the Chinese restaurant.

Phil continued down the street, knowing that if the little man on the lame brown horse with the white eye was still in town, it would not be long before Smiler would have him wise to it.

He strolled into the dining-room of the Kenora and ordered his lunch. And, as he waited, in came an old acquaintance in all his high-coloured and picturesque splendour--Percival DeRue Hannington.

Hannington spotted Phil at once and strutted over. He shook hands with vigour and set himself down opposite.

"By gad! old chap,--but this is quite refreshing. I've often thought about you and your good advice not to be in too big a hurry to buy a blooming rawnch."

"Why?" inquired Phil. "I'm glad you took it and it did you good."

"But I didn't take it;--worse bally luck. Don't you know, I thought you might be trying to put me off the chawnce of getting into something good. Everybody warned me when I came out here that I wasn't to take everything I heard for gospel. The beastly trouble seems to be to distinguish between the gospel and the tommyrot."

Phil laughed, and it made him forget his own troubles.

DeRue Hannington ordered dinner also, and, as he refreshed himself he became reminiscent.

"So you did buy a ranch?" started Phil.

"I paid for one," said Hannington, "and, if that isn't jolly-well buying one, you've got to search me, as the Johnnies out here say.

"You see, when you toddled off that day, I was in the saloon asking three fellows if they knew of anyone who had a rawnch for sale.

"One Johnnie said he had a good one I could have cheap, for cash."

"What was the man's name?" asked Phil.

"Barney, Barney something-or-other; oh, yes! cawn't forget it;--Barney Douthem. He _did me_, the rotter.

"Do you know him, Mister--Mister Phil?"

"I have heard of him. He left here some time ago for the other side of the Line."

"I fawncied so," said Hannington. "I'm looking for that miserable thieving josser.

"Well, I hired a horse and went out with the Barney fellow to see the rawnch, right away. A jolly nice place it was, too--just ten miles out. The Barney chap lived there with a Chinaman who did his housework. It was a twenty-acre place on the side of a hill, with a decent sort of a house and stables. There was a beautiful view of the lake and the Valley, and a fine fishing stream running right through the property. One could fish out of his window, lying in bed. A positive duck of a place!"

"Yes!" remarked Phil, "but a rancher can't live on scenery and by fishing in bed. What kind of fruit trees did the place have?"

"Deuced good trees, Phil! At least, they seemed all-right. Of course, I'm not a bally expert on fruit trees.

"The Douthem chap said he could recommend it and I could have it for five thousand dollars cash. I gave him a cheque right off the reel. He gave me his receipt for the money, and the deal was closed there and then."

DeRue Hannington stopped, as if the memory of it was somewhat painful.

"Not exactly closed, Phil! because it sort of opened up again, two days ago, just three weeks after I was done by Douthem, and he had cashed my cheque and jolly-well beat it, as they say out here.