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Page 46
"Better for you--if you took the cure, too!" George flung at him
grinning rudely. He neck-reined Fox sharply and dodged a playful punch
from his comrade. "Yorkey, old cock, I'm goin' to break you from 'hard
stuff' to beer--if I have to pitch into you every day."
"You're an insultin', bullyin' young beggar," remarked Yorke ruefully.
"I'll have to 'take shteps,' as Burke says, and discipline you a bit,
young fellow-me-lad! I don't wonder the old man pulled you in from
Gleichen. Come to think of it, why, you're the bright boy that they say
well-nigh started a mutiny down Regina! We heard a rumour about it up
here. Say, what was that mix-up, Reddy?"
George chuckled vaingloriously. "All over old 'Laddie'," he said.
"'Member that white horse? I forget his regimental number, but he was
about twenty-five years old. You remember how they'd taught him to chuck
up his head and 'laugh'? I was grooming him at 'midday stables.' Old
Harry Hawker was the sergeant taking 'stables' that day. He was stalking
up and down the gangway, blind as a bat, with his crop under his arm, and
his glasses stuck on the end of his nose--peering, peering. Well, old
Laddie happened to stretch himself, as a horse will, you know, stuck out
his hind leg, and old Harry fell wallop over it and tore his
riding-pants, and just then I said 'Laugh, Laddie!' and he chucked his
old head up and wrinkled his lips back. Of course the fellows fairly
howled and Harry lost his temper and let in to poor old Laddie with his
crop. It made me mad when he started that and I guess I gave him some
lip about it. He 'pegged' me for Orderly-room right-away for
insubordination.'
"I pleaded 'not guilty' and got away with it, too. Got all kinds of
witnesses--most of 'em only too d----d glad to be able to get back at
Harry for little things. Laddie was a proper pet of the Commissioner's.
He used to go into No. Four Stable and play with the old beggar and feed
him sugar nearly every day."
Yorke laughed mischievously, and was silent awhile. "Gully's knocked
about a deuce of a lot," he resumed presently. "Now and again he'll open
up a bit and talk, but mostly he's as close as an oyster--and the way he
can drop that drawl and come out 'flat-footed' with the straight
turkey--why, it'd surprise you! You'd think he was an out and out
Westerner, born and bred. He's a mighty good man on a horse, and around
cattle--and with a lariat. I don't know where the beggar's picked it up.
He claims he's only been in this country five years. Talks mostly about
the Gold Coast, and Shanghai, and the Congo. A proper 'Bully Hayes' of a
man he was there, too, I'll bet! He never says much about the States,
though I did hear him talking to a Southerner once, and begad, it was
funny! You could hardly tell their accents apart.
"Oh, he's not a bad chap to have for a J.P. It's mighty hard to get any
local man to accept a J.P.'s commission, anyway. They're most of 'em
scared of it getting them in bad with their neighbours. Gully--he
doesn't care a d----n for any of 'em, though. He'll sit on any case.
It's a good thing to have a man who's absolutely independent, like that.
I sure have known some spineless rotters. No, we might have a worse J.P.
than Gully."
"Oh, I don't know," rejoined Redmond thoughtfully, "may be he's all
right, but, somehow . . . the man's a kind of 'Doctor Fell' to me--has
been--right from the first time I 'mugged' him. Chances are though, that
it's only one of those false impressions a fellow gets. What's up?"
Yorke, shading his eyes from the cutting wind was staring ahead down the
long vista of trail. "Talk of the Devil!" he muttered, "why! here the
---- comes!" Aloud, he called out to Slavin. "Oh, Burke! here comes
Gully--riding like hell, I know that Silver horse of his."
And, far-off as yet, but rapidly approaching them at a gallop, they
beheld a rider.
"Sure is hittin' th' high spots," remarked the sergeant wonderingly,
"fwhat th' divil's up now?"
Gradually the distance lessened between them and presently Gully, mounted
upon a splendid, powerfully-built gray, checked his furious pace and
reined in with an impatient jerk, a few lengths from the police team.
Redmond could not help noticing that Gully, for a heavy man, possessed a
singularly-perfect seat in the saddle, riding with the sure, free,
unconscious grace of an _habitu�_ of the range. He was roughly dressed
now, in overalls, short sheepskin coat, and "chaps."
He shouted a salutation to the trio, his usually immobile face
transformed into an expression of scowling anxiety. "Hullo!" he boomed,
his guttural bass sounding hoarse with passion, "You fellows didn't meet
that d----d hobo on the trail, I suppose? . . . I'm looking for him--in
the worst way!"
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