The Luck of the Mounted by Ralph S. Kendall

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Slowly and ponderously he began the dragging recover, with the muscular
skill of a man long inured to the gruesome business. His first effort
was unsuccessful--weeds and refuse were all he salvaged. He tried again,
with the same result. Cast after cast proved futile. After the last
failure he turned and glowered morosely upon Redmond.

"'Tis either dhrunk or dhramin' ye must be, bhoy! There's nothin' there.
I've a good mind," he added slowly "a d----d good mind tu shove ye undher
arrest for makin' a friv'lus report tu yeh superior!"

Yorke now came to his comrade's rescue. "By gum, Burke," he flashed out
"if you'd seen his mug when he came up out of that hole you wouldn't have
thought there was anything frivolous about it, I can tell you!"

Poor George voiced a vehement protest, in self defense. "Good God,
Sergeant!" he expostulated, "d'you think I'd come to you with a yarn like
that? I tell you it is there. Have another try. Sling farther over to
the right here!"

Grumblingly, the latter complied, and began the slow recover. Suddenly,
the rope checked. Slavin strained a moment, then he turned around to the
expectant group. "Got ut'" he announced grimly. "I can tell by th' feel
av ut. Tail on tu th' rope there, all av yez! Now! Yeo! Heave ho!"

Like a tug of war team they all bowed their backs and strained with all
their might; but their efforts proved futile. "Vast heavin!" said
Slavin, breathing heavily. "'Tis shtuck somehow--I will have tu get th'
team an' double-trees. Get a log off'n that breakwater, bhoys, so's th'
rope will not cut inta th' edge av th' bank."

He crossed over to the horses. "Now!" said he, some minutes later, as he
backed up the team and made all fast to the double-trees. "Yu', Reddy,
an' Lanky, guide th' rope over th' log. Yu', Yorkey, get th' feel av ut,
an' give me th' wurrd. I du not want to break ut."

Yorke leant over the edge of the bank, loosely feeling the rope. "All
right!" he announced.

Slavin, edging his team cautiously forward, and taking the strain to
avoid a violent jerk, clucked to them. With a scramble, and a steady
heave of their powerful hind-quarters, they started.

With bated breath the watchers gazed at the rope--creeping foot by foot
out of the discoloured water.

"Keep a-going!" Yorke shouted to Slavin. "It's coming up, all right!"

It came. Arising slowly and sullenly out of the depths they beheld a
horrible, dripping, shapeless something that eventually resolved itself
into a human body--clothed in torn rags and matted with river-refuse.

Then, to the salvagers, came the most astounding and sinister revelation
of all. Startled oaths burst from them as they beheld now what had
retarded their first pull. Bound tightly to the body with rusted wire
was a huge, hand-squared block of stone. The sergeant's last and
successful cast had resulted in two prongs of the grappling-irons
catching in the enveloping wire.

Slowly and cautiously the whole hideous bulk was finally drawn up the
shelving bank and over the log and onto dry ground. Yorke shouted, and
Slavin, checking the horses, detached the rope from the double-trees.
Handing the lines over to Lanky Jones he joined the others, who were
critically examining their gruesome catch. To their surprise, although
the features were unrecognisable, the corpse was not so decomposed as
they had first imagined, the ice-cold water having preserved it to a
certain extent. Still firmly hooked to the rags of clothing--a
ludicrously grim joke--was the huge jumping, gasping trout which Redmond
had struck and lost.

Suddenly Yorke uttered a low exclamation. "Burke! Burke!" he said
tensely, "there you are! . . . Look at the right hand'"

The eyes of all were centered on the grimy, stiffened, clawlike fist.
They saw that two of the fingers were missing. An exultant oath burst
from Slavin. "By G----!" he said, with grim conviction, "it's him all
right!--that pore hobo shtiff--Dick Drinkwater. Eyah! fwhat's in a name?
Fwhat's in a name?" He pointed to the grinning jaws. "Luk at th' gold
teeth av um, tu!" he added.

The coroner was examining the almost fleshless skull. He gave a cry of
anger and dismay. "Good God!" he gasped. "Look here, all of you! . . .
This man's been shot through the head, too!" He indicated the small,
circular orifice in the occiput, and its egress below the left eye.

"Only an exceedingly powerful, high-pressure weapon could have done
that," he continued significantly, "both holes are alike--bullet hasn't
'mushroomed' at all."

"Eyah!" Slavin agreed wearily. "We know fwhat kind av a gun did ut. And
luk here!" he added savagely, pointing to the bare feet, "here's another
of Mr. Man's little jokes--no boots. If they'd have been lift on they'd
have shtuck tighter'n glue--in that water. Reddy was 'bout right,
Yorkey! Gully, d----n him! did frame us that day. Must have used thim
himsilf tu make thim thracks wid--early in th' mornin'--behfure he met up
wid us on th' thrail. Oh, blarney my sowl! Yes! Had us chasin' for a
whole silly week, all for--"

He broke off abruptly, choking with rage. For awhile, in silence, the
party gazed at the pitiful, hideous monstrosity that had once been a man.
Then the ever-practical Redmond proceeded, with the aid of a large
pebble, to burst, strand by strand, the wire which bound the stone to the
body.

"That stone, too!" said the doctor darkly. "Sergeant, in view of what
you've been telling me, there seems something very, very terrible about
all this. I suppose there's absolutely no doubt in your mind now, who--?"

The Irishman jerked out a great oath. "Doubt!" echoed he grimly, "doubt!
So little doubt, Docthor," added he hoarsely, "that we go get 'um this
very night."

"Alas, poor Yorick!" said Yorke sadly. "Say, Burke!" he continued in an
awe-struck voice "this is like a leaf out of O'Brien's book, with a
vengeance. You remember him, that cold-blooded devil who Pennycuik
nailed up in the Yukon--used to shoot 'em and shove their bodies under
the ice?"

Slavin nodded gloomily. "At Tagish, ye mane? Yeah! I 'member ut.
Penny sure did some good wurrk on that case."

Redmond had by this time completed his gruesome task. "There's lots of
these blocks lying around Gully's," he remarked, "I've seen 'em. Place's
got a stone foundation. Look at the notches he's chipped in this one--to
keep the wire from slipping!"

"Eyah!" said Slavin, with grimly-unconscious humour, "Exhibit B. We must
hang on to ut, heavy as it us--an' th' wire, tu! Well, people, we'd
betther shove this pore shtiff on the buckboard, an' beat ut." He turned
to the doctor's laconic factotum. "Come on, Lanky!" he said briskly.
"Let's go hitch up."

Presently, when all was ready, Slavin took the lines and the coroner
climbed up beside him. The rest of the party followed on foot. A
sombre, strange little procession it looked, as it moved slowly westward
into the dusky blaze of a blood-red sunset. In the hearts of the
policemen grim resolve was not unmixed with certain well-founded
forebodings, as they fully realized what a sinister, dangerous mission
lay ahead of them that night.

CHAPTER XIII

'Twas then--like tiger close beset
At every pass with toil and net,
'Counter'd, where'er he turns his glare,
By clashing arms and torches' flare,
Who meditates, with furious bound,
To burst on hunter, horse, and hound,--
'Twas then that Bertram's soul arose,
Prompting to rush upon his foes.
SCOTT

The old detachment clock struck nine wheezy notes. Yorke and Redmond,
seated at a table busily engaged in cleaning their service revolvers,
glanced up at each other sombrely.

"Getting near time," muttered the former, "the moon should be up soon
now. Lanky," he continued, addressing that individual who was sitting
nearby, "what are you and the Doctor going to do? Going back to Cow Run
tonight, or what?"

"Don't think it," replied the teamster laconically. He glanced towards
the open door and assumed a listening attitude. "Th' Sarjint an' him's
out there now--chewin' th' rag 'bout it--hark to 'em!"

Ceasing their cleaning operations for a space, the two constables
listened intently to the raised voices without. "No! no! no!" came
Slavin's soft brogue, in tones of vehement protest to something the
coroner had said, "I tell yu' 'tis not right, Docthor, that yu' shud run
such risk! Wid us 'tis diff'runt--takin' th' chances av life an'
death--just ord'nary course av juty. . . ."

"Oh, tut! tut! nonsense, Sergeant," was the physician's brisk response.
"You forget. I've taken those same chances before, too, and, by Jove! I
can take 'em again! All things considered," he added significantly,
"seems to me--er--perhaps just as well I should be on hand."

Yorke and Redmond exchanged rueful grins. "The old sport!" quoth the
latter admiringly. "Damme, but I must say the Doc's game!"

"It's the old 'ex-service spirit'," said Yorke quietly, "rum thing!
Always seems to crop out, somehow, when there's real trouble on hand."

Nonchalantly puffing a huge cigar, the object of their remarks presently
strolled back into the room, followed by the sergeant. "Behould th'
'last coort av appeal,' Docthor," began Slavin majestically. With a
whimsical grin he indicated his subordinates. "Bhoys," he explained,
"contrairy tu my wishes, th' Docthor insists on comin' wid us this night.
Now fwhat yez know 'bout that?"

"Tried to shake me!" supplemented that gentleman tersely, waving his
cigar at the last speaker. "What's this court's ruling?"

A stern smile flitted over Yorke's high-bred features. "Appeal
sustained," he announced decisively, "eh, Reddy?"

For answer, his comrade arose and silently wrung the doctor's hand; then,
without show of emotion, he resumed his seat and likewise his cleaning
operations. Yorke, as silently, duplicated his comrade's actions. The
ex-Naval surgeon said nothing; but his eyes glistened strangely as he
dropped into an easy chair and proceeded to envelope himself in a cloud
of smoke,

Suddenly the nasal voice of the teamster, Lanky Jones, made itself heard.
"How 'bout me?" he drawled, "ain't I in on this, too? I kin look after
th' hawsses, anyways, fur yeh!"

"Arrah thin! hark tu um?" said Slavin, in mock despair. "Docthor, 'tis a
bad example ye're setting All right, thin, Lanky, ye shall come, an' ye
wish ut. An' as man tu man--I thank ye! We will all go a 'moonlightin'
tugither. Eyah!" he resumed reminiscently, "many's th' toime I mind me
ould father--God rist him!--tellin' th' tales av thim days, whin times
was harrd in Oireland, an' rints wint up an' th' pore was dhriven
well-nigh desprit. How him an' his blood-cousin, Tim Moriarty, lay wan
night for an' ould rapparee av a landlord, who'd evicted pore Tim out av
house an' home. Tim had an' ould blundherbuss, all loaded up wid bits av
nales an' screws an' such-like, wid a terribul big charrge av powther
behint ut. Four solid hours did they wait for um--forninst a hedge on
th' road he had tu come home by, from Ballymeen Fair.

"By an' by they hears um a-comin . . . a-hollerin' an' laughin' tu
umsilf, an' roarin' an' singin' 'Th' Jug av Potheen.' Full av ut, tu, by
token av th' voice av um. Tim makes all ready wid th' blundherbuss. All
av a suddint tho', th' tchune shtops, an' tho' they waits for um for
quite a toime, he niver shows up. By an' by they gets fed up wid lyin'
belly-down in th' soakin' rain. 'H-mm! mighty quare!' sez me father, 'I
wonder fwhat's happened tu th' pore ould ginthleman?' 'Let us go luk for
um?' sez Tim, wid blood in his oi, ''tis may be he's on'y shtoppin' tu
take another dhrink out av th' jug.'

"So, up th' road they goes a piece, till they comes tu a bog at th' side
av ut. An' there they finds um--head-first shtuck in th' bog--just th'
tu feet av um shtickin' out an' which boots Tim sez he can swear tu.
'Begorrah!' sez me father, 'that accounts for th' tchune shtoppin' so
suddint! Let us luk for th' jug?' Well, they hunts around for th' jug
awhile, but all they finds is his ould caubeen. So they shtuck that on
wan of his feet, an' Tim, he pins th' warrant av evictmint tu ut,
currsin' somethin' fierce th' whiles bekase he was done out av getthin' a
shot at the 'ould rapparee wid th' blundherbuss."

Slavin shook his head slowly at the conclusion of the story. "Eyah!" he
said wistfully, "many's th' toime have I heard me father tell that same
tale. They must have been shtirrin' times, thim!" In characteristic
fashion his mood suddenly changed. His face hardened, as with upraised
hand he silenced the burst of laughter he had provoked from his hearers.
"Ginthlemen!" he resumed quietly, "we're none av us cowards here, but--no
need tu remind yu'--fwhat sort av a man we are goin' up against this
night."

Unconsciously he drew himself up, with an air of simple, rugged dignity
that well became his grim visage and powerful frame. In that hour of
impending danger the brave, true, kindly heart of the man stood
revealed--a personality which endeared him to Yorke and Redmond beyond
any ties of friendship they had known.

Slowly he repeated, "we are none av us cowards here, but--remimber Larry
Blake, an' that pore hobo shtiff back in th' shed there. An' remimber
thim dogs this mornin'. We du not want tu undherrate um. We du not want
tu cop ut like did Wilde, whin he wint tu arrest Charcoal; or Colebrook,
whin he tackled Almighty Voice. Maybe he'll just come a-yawnin' tu th'
dhure, wid th' dhrawlin' English spache av um, sayin' 'Well, bhoys, an'
fwhat's doin'?' An' yet again--may be he's all nerves afther th' bad
break he made in front av us this mornin'--expectin' us--eyah!--waithin',
watchin' belike, wid his gun in his fisht. Luk at th' way he acted
afther his gun play--leery as hell. . . ."

"Yes!" said Yorke thoughtfully, "egad! there was something darned queer
in the way he acted, all right. Guess we'd better take carbines along,
eh, Burke? . . . in case we get let in for a man hunt. For all we know,
he may have beat it already. Another thing--he may start in bucking us
about not having a warrant--just to gain time?"

Slavin met the other's suggestion with a grim nod of acquiescence.
"Shure! we'll take thim," he said, "but"--his jaw set ruthlessly--"if I
wanst get my grub-hooks on um . . . why! 'tis all up!--carbines, or no
carbines--warrant or no warrant. Section thirty av th' Code covers th'
warrant bizness--in a case like this, anyways. Come on, thin, bhoys,
saddle up! An' Lanky!--yu give me a hand wid th' team! we must be
getthin'!"

Presently all was in readiness, and the small, well-armed party left the
detachment under the light of a brilliant three-quarter moon. Slavin led
in the police buckboard, with the doctor seated beside him, and Lanky
Jones crouched behind them. Yorke and Redmond rode in the rear, with
their carbines slung at the saddle-horn. It was a hazardous mission they
were bound on, as they all fully realized now, knowing the terribly
ruthless character of the man they sought to apprehend.

Descending the grade which led to the bend of the river they swung due
east at a smart pace, following the winding Lower Trail. This last road
ran past Gully's ranch, which lay some three miles distant. As they
neared their objective the sergeant slackened his team down to a walking
pace.

Suddenly Redmond tongue-clucked to himself in absent fashion. The sound
of it roused Yorke out of the sombre reverie into which he had fallen.

"What's up, Red?" queried he waggishly, in a low voice, "dreaming you're
taking that dive again, or what?"

"No!" muttered George abstractly in the same key. "I was thinking what a
rum, unfathomable old beggar Slavin is. Fancy him springing that comical
old yarn at such a time as this?"

"Ah!" murmured his comrade reflectively. "When you come to know Burke as
well as I do you'll find he's generally got some motive for these little
things--blarney and all. You laughed, didn't you? Guess we all of us
gave the giddy 'ha! ha'.' Felt quite chipper after it, too, the bunch of
us . . . well then?"

"Sh-sh!" came the sergeant's back-flung, guarded growl, "quit your gab
there! We're gettin' nigh, bhoys--here's th' brush forninst his
place . . . must go mighty quiet an' careful now."

Looming up dark and forbidding ahead of them they beheld the all-familiar
sight of the huge, shadowy thicket of pine and Balm o' Gilead clumps that
fringed the west end of Gully's ranch. Entering its gloomy depths, they
felt their way slowly and cautiously along the stump-dotted trail. At
intervals, from somewhere overhead, came the weird, depressing hoot of a
long-eared owl, and, seemingly close at hand, the shrill, mocking
"ki-yip-yapping" of coyotes echoed sharply in the stillness of the night.
Stray patches of moonlight began to filter upon the party once more as
they gradually neared the end of the rough-hewn avenue; the thick growth
of pine giving place to scattered cotton-wood clumps.

Arriving at the verge of the timber the party halted. There, some two
hundred yards distant, upon a patch of open ground partially encircled by
dense, willow-scrub, lay a ghostly-shadowed cluster of ranch buildings.
The living habitation itself stood upon a slightly raised knoll, hard
upon the river-bank. To their nostrils the night air brought the strong,
not unpleasant scent of cattle, drifting up from the numerous recumbent
bovine forms which dotted the ground all around the ranch.

Awhile the party gazed speculatively at the habitation of him--the
undoubted perpetrator of the deadly deeds--for whom they had sought so
long. The peaceful aspect of their moonlit surroundings suddenly smote
the minds of all with a strange sense of unreality, as full realization
of the sinister import of their errand came home to them. In uncanny
telepathy with their disturbed feelings sounded the owl's derisive
hooting, and the persistent mocking raillery of the coyotes.

It was Slavin who broke the long, tense silence. "Damn that 'Dismal
Jimmy' owl!" he ejaculated testily, in a low tone--"an' thim
ki-oots! . . . beggars all seem to be givin' us th' ha! ha! as if they
knew. P'raps he has beat ut on us afther all? . . . 'Tis harrd tu
say--we cannot shpot a glim from this side--winders all face east. Now!
luk a-here, all av yez!" He turned to his companions with a grim,
determined face, his deep-set eyes glittering ominously in the light of
the moon. "Lets get things cut-an'-dhried behfure we shtart in," he
whispered. "Whin he knows th' jig's up--that's if he is in--he may act
like a man av sinse, an' agree tu come peaceable--but--" and Slavin shook
his head slowly--"if he refuses . . . fwhy? . . . 't'wud be straight
suicide tu attimpt tu rush um. There's on'y wan dhure. Hidin' in th'
dark there, wid that Luger gun av his coverin' ut, we'd shtand no show at
all. He'd put th' whole bunch av us out av business--in as many shots,
behfure a man av us got a chance tu put fut inside. Now, let's see!" he
murmured reflectively. "Fwhat is th' lay av th' shack agin? There's--"

"The door and two of the windows face east," interpolated Yorke,
softly--"living-room and kitchen--one window to the south--that's his
bed-room."

"Eyah! that's ut," whispered the sergeant, "now thin--Lanky--du yu' shtay
right here wid th' harses. Kape yu're head--even if ye du hear shootin'.
Du not shtir from here onless ye get ordhers from wan av us." Turning to
the others he continued in a sibilant hiss, "Yu, Reddy, shlip along th'
edge av th' brush here, an' over th' river-bank onto th' shingle. Kape
well down an' thread careful ontil ye come forninst th' back winder.
Thin pop yu're head up circumshpict an' cover ut wid yu're carbine. Use
good judgmint tho'; none av us want tu shtart in shootin' onless we're
forced tu ut. Ondher th' circumstances 'tis best we thry an' catch um
alive."

For a moment Slavin stared after Redmond's crouching form, as his
subordinate disappeared in the gloom, "Thrust no harm comes tu th' lad,"
he muttered irresolutely, "quick as a flash is th' bhoy wid his head,
eyah! but he's inclined tu be over rash at toimes."

"Oh, he's all right," hissed Yorke reassuringly, "don't you get worrying
over him making any bad breaks, Burke. He's as fly as they make 'em."

Presently the sergeant faced round with a dreary sigh. "Come on thin,
Docthor," he murmured heavily, "wid me an' Yorke."

Making a wide detour they circled the ranch and wormed their way
cautiously through the dense scrub on its eastern side. Suddenly, with a
warning gesture to his companions, the sergeant halted. They had reached
the verge of the scrub and the front of the ranch-house faced
them--barely twenty yards distant. They could discern a faint light
glimmering around the lower edge of one of the windows.

"He is in!" whispered Slavin exultantly. "Blinds down though. 'Tis a
quare custom av his. Come on thin, Yorkey, me bould second-in-command!
In a mighty few short minuts we shall know"--his jaw dropped--"fwhat we
shall know! . . . Arrah thin, Docthor!"--he silenced a violent protest
from that adventurous gentleman, who made as though to accompany
them--"if ye wud help us in best fashion--shtay right here, an' mark
fwhat comes off. If we shud happen tu get ut in th' neck . . . just yu'
beat ut back tu Lanky! Ye know fwhat tu du--thin. I'll lave me carbine
here awhile."

He stepped clear of the brush and, revolver in hand, advanced softly upon
the low, one-story, log-built dwelling. Yorke followed a few steps in
his rear, with his carbine held in readiness at the "port-arms."

Reaching the door, the sergeant rapped upon it sharply. There was no
response from within, but--the light vanished on the instant. Yorke
stepped warily to the side and covered the door with his weapon. A few
tense moments passed, and then Slavin rapped again. Heavy footfalls now
sounded, approaching the door from the inside, halted, and then, through
the panels came Gully's hollow, booming bass: "Who's there?"

"Shlavin of th' Mounted Police, Gully. Opin up! we wud shpake wid ye."

"What do you want? What's your business at this hour of the night?"

"Fwhat do we want?"--the sergeant uttered mirthless chuckle--"fwhy 'tis
yu' we want, Gully--for murdher! Come off th' perch, man, th' jig's up!
There's a bunch av us here--we've got yu're shack covered properly--wid
carbines--north, east, south, an' west--ye can pull nothin' off. Come
now! will ye pitch up an' act reasonable? 'Tis no manner av use ye
shtartin' in tu buck th' Force. Juty's juty--ye know that."

"Have you got a warrant, Sergeant?"

"Eyah!" came Slavin's sinister growl. "We've bin fishin', Gully, up in
th' big pool beyant. _Well_ ye must know that pool. Fwhat we caught
there is our warrant. Opin up now, will ye? else we bust yu're dhure in!"

"Slavin--Sergeant! You and Yorke whom I've known all this time--good
fellows"--the deep, imploring tones faltered slightly--"do not push me to
it, man! You and your men go away and leave me in peace this night.
Christ knows! I don't want to do it but--if you persist in forcing an
entrance in here without a warrant--why! I'll pull on your crowd till
there's not a man left."

"Gully!" the sergeant's voice shook with passion at the other's threat,
"ye bloody murdherin' dog! Ye dhirty back-av-th'-head gun-artist!
Thryin' for tu come th' 'good-feller' over us av th' Mounted! There's
on'y wan answer tu that, an' ye know ut. Now, will ye opin up this
dhure, or I'll bust her down!"

And, as if to enforce his command, Slavin set his huge shoulder against
the door and gave a heave which caused the stout wood to crack ominously.

"Look out, Burke!" cried Yorke suddenly. His right arm shot out and
jerked the maddened Irishman violently towards him. His hasty action was
only just in time.

Bang! bang! Two muffled shots detonated within, and white splinters flew
from a spot in the door covered a moment before by the sergeant's broad
breast. With a startled oath Slavin flung up his gun, as if to fire
back; but Yorke clutched his arm and arrested the action.

"No, no, Burke!" he hissed warningly, "no use doing that! You bet he's
not there now. Lying 'doggo' behind the logs, most likely. You'd only
blow a hole in the door that he could pick us off through after. We're
proper marks in the moonlight here! Let's back up, and keep the front
covered."

Slavin, balked of his prey, rumbled in his throat awhile, like some huge
bear; then, adopting Yorke's suggestion, he slowly backed up with the
latter to the sheltering brush, where they rejoined the expectant,
anxious doctor.

"Hit, either of you?" he enquired tersely.

Yorke replied in the negative. "Mighty close shave for Burke here,
though" he added, "lucky I heard Gully cocking that blasted Luger of
his." He uttered a suppressed chuckle, "Burke's always one to go
cautioning others, and then lose his temper and expose himself."

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