Phil sprang into his saddle.

"Say!" whispered Jim, straining upwards, "I'm going to bring the Mayor along."

"Oh, hang the Mayor!" cried Phil hotly. "If we are going to be helping him in any way, I guess you can count me out."

"But, Phil, laddie;--McLean of the Pioneer Company is coming, and Morrison of the O.K. Company is coming.

"We can hardly leave Brenchfield out." Jim's voice was somewhat sarcastic in its tone.

"Oh, I suppose not!" said Phil sourly, and unconvinced.

Jim laughed.

"Man, but you're thick in the skull. Eh, but it's a lark!" he remarked, giving Phil's mare a whack on the flank and sending her galloping off without further words of elucidation.

Phil found Jack McLean in his front parlour--late as it was--reading a book to his last pipe before turning in. In as few words as possible, he told him of what had happened and of the plan for the capture of the thieves. McLean required no persuading. In five minutes he was on his horse, ready for any escapade and swearing as volubly as only a hardened official of the Pioneer Traders can who has been systematically robbed without being able to lay the thieves by the heels.

In ten minutes more, McLean, big Blair and Phil were heading west, galloping hard for the Landing at the head of the Okanagan Lake.

The night was dark as pitch; there wasn't a star in the sky nor was there a breath of moving air anywhere.

They reached Allison's Wharf in quick time, roused the complaining lake-freighter and got him busy on his large gasoline launch. Not long after that a clatter of hoofs on the hard roadway, a sudden stoppage, and the sound of deep voices, betrayed the arrival of the others: Langford, Morrison, Thompson the Government Agent, and the one police official whom Phil felt was absolutely above suspicion,--Howden, who was Chief Palmer's deputy--and Brenchfield, surly as a bear;--all powerful men and capable of giving a good account of themselves in a tight place.

They were eight, all told, with Allison in addition looking after his own affairs, and they set out across the lake for the quiet little landing below the Redmans settlement, leaving their horses at Allison's place.

"Howden,--why didn't you bring the Chief?" asked Phil.

"Wish to h.e.l.l we had! Might have saved me the trouble of coming. He's up on the ranges somewhere. There's a lot of cattle missing up there lately and he's keen on catching some of the rustlers red-handed."

"Or red-headed," grinned Jim. "This trip might prove the way to catch them too."

"Do you think the same bunch is operating both jobs?" asked Howden.

"Sure!" replied Jim.

"Oh, give us a rest!" broke in Brenchfield. "A smart lot you wise-Alicks know about it. To hear you talk, one would think you had been raised on a detective farm."

Jim laughed good-naturedly.

"All right, old man! Don't get sore. You've been a grouch ever since we asked you to come along. One would think you didn't have any interests tied up in this affair."

"Then I guess that one has another think coming," answered the Mayor.

"Well,--you're devilish enthusiastic over it; that's all I've got to say," interjected Morrison, who was simply bubbling over with excitement and expectancy,--not so much from the thought of recovering his stolen property as from a hope that, if the thieves were captured, he would at last have a chance to reap the benefits of his labours, unmolested.

"Who wants to be enthusiastic on a wild-goose chase like this?"

commented Brenchfield. "I've been on the run these last three weeks, dancing all this evening, and now the delightful prospect of lying in a ditch till morning, and nothing at all at the end of it but the possibility of a rheumatic fever. You juvenile bath-tub pirates and Sherlock Holmeses give me a pain."

"And I'll bet you a new hat we'll land the whole rotten bunch of them before we're through," challenged Morrison.

"Forget it!" grouched Brenchfield, "I've lost as much as any man here, but I haven't made a song and dance about it like some people I know.

I am just as anxious as any of you to see the thieves in jail."

Evidently it was not a night for pleasant conversations, and tempers seemed to be more or less on edge, so little more was said until the launch ran quietly alongside the old, unused wharf a quarter of a mile east of the new one at Redmans.

The men got out, one after another, leaving Allison to make his way back to his own side, alone; as they did not require him further.

Jim led the way through the bush and up the trail toward the main highway.

They had not gone more than two hundred yards, when a muttered oath, a noise of stumbling, and a crash, brought them to a stand-still. It was Brenchfield who had stumbled into a hole or over a log. Ready hands helped him up, but he immediately dropped back on the ground with a groan, in evident pain from his ankle.

"h.e.l.l mend it!" he growled. "I've turned my ankle in a blasted gopher hole or something."

He writhed about in agony.

"Guess I'm out this trip," he moaned.

"Toots!" put in Jim. "You'll be all right in a minute. Let us give your foot a bit of a rub!"

"Strike a light and let me see what's what," suggested the Mayor.

Someone started in to do so.

"Not on your life!" cried Jim. "Haven't you got more savvy than that?

Do you want the whole of that gang up there in on our top?"

A dog barked in the distance and the bark was taken up ominously by other dogs around the settlement.

"Lower your voices and don't make any racket, for G.o.d's sake!" pleaded Jim. "Come on, make a try, Brenchfield!"

"What else do you think I'm doing?" growled the Mayor between his teeth. He did make a strong effort then, but was unable to bear his foot on the ground.

"Darn it! It's no good!" he exclaimed, sitting down disgustedly on a log.

"Well, boys," returned Jim, in a hopeless tone, "I guess we've got to leave him. One of us will have to stay with the Mayor. That will leave six for the job ahead of us. Guess we can manage! Will you stay with him, Blair?"

"Sure thing!" came the ready reply, "but I hate to miss the fun."

The Mayor's face could not be seen, but his voice broke in rather too quickly:

"Good heavens!--my own ranch is just up there over the hill. I can creep there on my hands and knees inside of half an hour;--and I won't have to do that.

"No, siree! n.o.body's going to stay with me. I'm all right. I'll get along nicely by myself. Every man-jack of you is needed for the job.

Go on! Beat it! Don't worry about me."

"We're not worrying about you, Graham," retorted Jim, not sufficiently suggestive to set the Mayor at discomfort. "But you know the rule of the trail, same as we do. When a man gets hurt on a hunting trip, another of the bunch stays with him. Joe Blair is willing to stay behind."

"He won't stay with me, I tell you;--this thing isn't going to be held up or spoiled for me," exclaimed the Mayor. "I'll crawl with you on my fours, first."