"Seen anyone looking round lately, Sam?"
"A couple of trappers came over from Indian Head two days ago."
"Where did they hail from?"
"The Wood Hills."
"What sort did they look?"
"One was a dark man, with great black eyes, a large beard, and a nose
like a Jew's; he was about my own height, five foot ten or thereabouts.
His companion was rather shorter, looked pale and sickly, as if a meal
or two would not be thrown away upon him; and both were under forty
years old."
"Bravo, Sam! you'll make a good 'tec in time."
"Why, do you know them?" said Sam, with a surprised look.
"Know them? I should think I do! Your description fits the men I want
to a T."
The three men stopped their game, whilst he who had been addressed as
Sam, and had saluted the officer as "Puffey," inquired--
"Who are they?"
For answer, Stone asked, "Did you hear about the murder at the Beaver
Hills?"
"Yes; my mate was telling me all about it only last night."
"Old Robson and his two sons made a plucky stand, but the band was too
strong for them."
"Were all three of them killed?"
"They set fire to the homestead, and when the flames at length compelled
them to fly they were shot down like rabbits."
"What became of the two women?"
"They were fortunately away on a visit to a friend at Wolseley, and did
not return that night."
"They succeeded in driving away about forty head of cattle, which have
been traced into the neighbourhood of the Touchwood Hills."
"But," said Sam, after a pause, "what has this to do with the two men we
were talking about?"
"Everything," responded Stone. "Perhaps you have heard of the Warple
Band?"
"To be sure I have."
"Well, the Warple Band are believed to have been for some time located
in the 'Touchwood'; and now I feel certain about it, for the description
you gave of the two men who were here answers exactly to that which I
have obtained of the two leaders, from one of whom it gets its name."
"Do you think so?"
"I don't think at all about it--I'm certain!" added Stone, as he brought
his fist down on the table with a thump.
"Well, what will be your next move then?"
"Ah! that remains to be seen," he added, with a far-away look in his
eyes.
"Well, certainly appearances are deceiving, for I should never have
taken the two fellows, who, as I told you, looked like trappers, to be
the desperate characters you say they are."
"No; and yet they are wanted for some of the foulest and darkest of
crimes."
"What are you going to do to-night?" asked Sam.
"I shall return at once to Wolseley and report."
Calling to Langham, he bade that worthy have his horse saddled and
brought round at once; and, having settled his score, bade good-night to
the friends he was leaving, and taking a good look round the
drinking-bar as he passed through, he mounted his horse, and rode off
into the fast gathering darkness.
*CHAPTER XVI.*
*THE WARPLE BAND.*
"These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways,
Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome."--
_Richard II._, Act. II. sc. iii.
In the course of the ensuing week the farmers and ranchers for miles
round had notice from the police of the district of their intention to
raid the Touchwood Hills, in search of a nest of robbers believed to be
hiding there.
The settlers were directed to assemble at a point named, at a certain
hour, on a given day, with all the able-bodied men they could muster
capable of bearing arms, and to be prepared for what might probably
prove a stiffish job.
Early in the morning of the day appointed, a special train, which
started from Winnipeg the previous day, and calling at the various
stations on its way up had entrained detachments of mounted police,
reached M'Lean Station with a force of fifty horsemen, which was at once
sent forward across the prairie to the place of rendezvous.
After advancing about ten miles, they halted on the banks of a running
stream, so as to give the farmers who were expected to join them an
opportunity of coming on.
Some they found already at the place appointed, and others, by twos and
threes, kept dropping in, until by noon they had assembled about one
hundred and twenty all told.
The farmers, with their men, were in many cases as well mounted as the
police; their uniform and discipline differed, but in other respects
they looked equal to any amount of fatigue, and capable of holding their
own and rendering good service to the force they were about to
accompany.
Twenty-five of the police were sent on a little in advance, followed by
their ambulance waggons and staff, under the command of Captain Lean;
the yeomanry--for such they might be termed--formed the centre, followed
by their waggons, which were made to serve for ambulance purposes, and
were placed under the direction of Fellows from Ranger's Ranch, who, by
training and experience acquired as an officer in a Volunteer corps in
England, it was considered, might safely be entrusted with that
important command. The rear was brought up by the remainder of the
police; the whole force being commanded by Major Scott, a man who had
seen much service in the "States," was well acquainted with Indian
tactics, and had frequently been employed in border forays, and that
guerilla style of fighting, the men they were now in search of were
likely to indulge in.
Having accomplished another fifteen miles of their journey, they halted
at the edge of a wood and prepared to make such dispositions for a night
on the plains as their resources would admit of, due precautions being
taken to guard against a night surprise, which, however, did not take
place.
They were stirring with sunrise; and after watering and feeding their
horses, and supplying their own wants, they saddled up, and with
military precision were ready to start by eight o'clock, in the same
order as on the previous day.
No incident of importance occurred to mark their progress, and as the
second day began to close in they reckoned to be within about ten miles
of their destination.
Arrived on the bank of a small river, which, besides affording water for
both man and beast, in other respects seemed suitable for camping
purposes, a halt was sounded, fires lighted, and preparations soon in
progress for a good meal and a night's repose.
Up to the present they had met with little difficulty in following in
the trail of the raiders, which was well marked.
The Major's plan, as communicated to his lieutenants, was, if the trail
continued, to advance up to the foothills of the Touchstone, and then,
at suitable points to be selected, plant small bodies of the force at
his disposal round the base of the hill, which at a fixed hour were to
advance up the slopes, passing over intervening valleys or depressions,
to the centre, where the whole would be expected to assemble.
Before eight o'clock the next morning the little force was on the move,
silent, and alert for the developments of the next few hours.
After the lapse of about three hours they came to a spot covered with
thick clumps of trees, bordering a lake nearly a mile in extent from
east to west. The intervening spaces were uneven and billowy, running
into deep depressions covered with heavy luxuriant grasses. The hill
they were making for was plainly visible in the distance, and had been
for some time.
Major Scott, halting his force here, resolved to await the return of a
scout sent on in advance two days previous, with orders to penetrate
into the recesses of the hill, and learn, if possible, the number and
location of the enemy. Vedettes were assigned to positions, and no
precautions neglected which might prevent a possible, yet not an
expected, surprise.
Scarcely had these dispositions been arranged, when the return of the
scout was announced, and in a few minutes, without much ceremony, he
made his way into the presence of the Major, who was seated on an
upturned camp-kettle.
"Well, sonny, what success?" he cried out.
"You shall hear, Major. It was a dark night when I reached the
foot-hills, which, for my purpose, was fortunate. Making my way as
cautiously as possible through the pines and cedars, and the masses of
thickly-growing fern which are abundant there, in a short while I found
myself overlooking a grass-covered glade of some extent, at the
extremity of which the face of the hill seemed to rise sheer and steep
for hundreds of feet. Seated round a bivouac fire, engaged in an
animated conversation, were a dozen men, with their blankets over their
shoulders. They were rough-bearded looking fellows with one exception,
and he had all the appearance of a half-breed; and no doubt was, as I
took him to be, the guide of the band. Their feet were encased in
moccasins, and provided with big rowelled spurs. A similar number of
horses were not far distant, hobbled, Indian fashion, with strips of
hide.
"From the conversation, which reached me but indistinctly, I gathered
that four of the band were doing duty as sentries, making sixteen in
all. They were all fully armed with pistols and knives and Winchesters.
No signs of cattle were visible. They did not seem to be under any fear
of a surprise; and as there appeared to be little further to learn I
hastened back as rapidly as possible."
The band was smaller than the Major had expected, he therefore resolved
to move forward at once.
Dividing his force into four sections, he directed one to proceed to the
west, and another to the east, and each to penetrate the hill until they
met. A third section was directed to skirt the hill until they faced
its northern side, and then, in like manner, ascend, until they met the
two flanking columns, when they would unite and advance south until they
came across the band, or met his column, which would move up in time to
join them.
Whilst the three columns were making a detour round the hill to reach
the posts assigned, the Major resolved to wait where he was at present,
until daylight was on the wane, to give time for each to be well
advanced before he attempted to move forward, and so possibly the better
escape detection by any watchful eye which might be on the look-out for
the unexpected.
The day wore to its close. The sky was obscured with dense masses of
heavy clouds, indicating a coming storm. The waning moon would not make
its appearance yet for some hours. The occasional rumble of distant
thunder was to be heard, whilst vivid flashes of lightning from time to
time lit up the wide expanse, only to render the succeeding darkness the
more intense.
Favoured by the elements, Major Scott cautiously but steadily advanced
his little force until they were close up to the ascent of the hill, but
well screened by the wild luxuriance of the vegetation, the growth of
ages, as yet undisturbed by the demands or needs of man, or the onward
march of those civilising forces which are ever working for the
advancement of the race.
Pulling their blankets around them, his men bivouacked where they had
halted, to snatch a few hours' repose, in order that they might be the
better prepared to face what was before them.
A little more than an hour had passed when the distant sounds of
rifle-firing came echoing down the hill, which no sooner reached the
slumbering groups than Major Scott gave the signal, and his bugler
sounded the call to arms, and in a very brief space of time his little
party was up, saddled, and in motion at a brisk trot.
Guided by the information which their scout had brought them,--and who
was now to the front, with the Major, leading,--they soon reached the
spot described by him, where he had seen the band encamped.
Save the dying embers of a solitary fire, the darkness was too profound
to render objects visible at a distance. Nor could they detect the
sounds of any life present, except those which came from their own
party.
As the men moved across the plain, the horse of one stumbled over an
object in the darkness, which its rider, on dismounting, found was the
body of a man apparently lifeless, indicating that the firing which had
aroused them must have been in this locality, and that the place could
only recently have been abandoned.
In a few moments their attention was arrested by the sounds of
approaching horsemen, and an occasional shot being fired.
That familiarity with darkness which renders objects at first all but
invisible gradually distinguishable through the gloom, had enabled Scott
and his contingent with some degree of certainty to fix their
surroundings, as well as to form a tolerable conception of their
position.
Directing a trooper to sound a bugle blast, it was answered by one from
the advancing party, and in a short while they could distinguish the
figures of men and horses as they came round a bend of the hill to the
left of where they had halted.
In answer to the Major's challenge, these forces were soon discovered to
be the two divisions which had ascended to the hill on its eastern and
western slopes.
It appeared that, warned of the danger with which they were threatened,
the band had fled before they could reach them, but from sheltered
clefts in the hills above they had kept up a desultory fire upon their
pursuers, without exposing themselves to danger.
It would have been useless in the darkness to endeavour to search for a
concealed foe well acquainted with the ground, to which they were
comparative strangers, exposing themselves to chance shots which they
might possibly be in no condition to return.
They were compelled, however, to await the arrival of the fourth
division of their force, which, advancing by the northern slope, owing
to the longer distance to be covered, might yet be some time before
reaching the appointed rendezvous.
An hour went by, when from the other side of the hill there came faint
sounds of a rifle discharge, repeated at more frequent intervals.
Turning in the direction from which they proceeded, and putting their
horses to the trot, Major Scott's division, reinforced by the other two
bands, made such haste as the nature of the ground to be traversed, and
the dim light to guide them, would permit, in order to reach their
comrades, who appeared to have met with the band of outlaws.
Aided by rifts in the clouds overhead, through which "the stars in their
courses" occasionally looked down, rendering objects slightly less
obscure than during the earlier hours of the night, they were able to
make fair progress.
But the country being so well covered with clumps of pine and maple,
spruce and cedar, and the dense bush and scrub, with hundreds of
interlacing creeping plants making up a tangled mass difficult to
penetrate, speed had frequently to be slackened until a passage could be
found, or forced, through the obstructions which nature with such
prodigality and lavishness had spread in their path.
Emerging at length on to a spacious plateau, they found themselves
facing a series of well-wooded terraces, from which, however, they were
separated by a deep ravine, now dry, but in the rainy season the source
of drainage from the hills to the plains.
As they came into the open they saw before them, in the dim and
uncertain light of early day, Red Dick and his lawless band of followers
spread out at the edge of the plateau, taking pot-shots at their
pursuers, just discernible on the terraced slopes the other side of the
ravine.
Bold and reckless as Dick's band was reputed to be, they felt that they
were now in what might be called "a tight fix."
With an impassable gorge in front, and a rapidly advancing force in
their rear, their only chance left was to gain a narrow winding pathway
in the face of the hill which led down into the bed of the ravine.
The alternative was to throw up the sponge and to allow themselves to be
taken prisoners, but as that meant certain death, since their many
crimes had long since placed them beyond all claims to mercy, they
determined to make a virtue of necessity, and run. Two were shot down in
attempting to reach the descending path; one missed his footing and was
dashed headlong to the bottom; whilst the fourth was fatally wounded by
a shot from the opposite side of the ravine.
Parties of mounted men were at once despatched to try and intercept the
escape of the fugitives at each end of the bed of the torrent.
They were successful to the extent of making two captures, but when it
was discovered that one of these was no less a personage than the
redoubtable Red Dick himself, the entire party felt that all their
efforts had been well rewarded.
When the roll was called, five of the constabulary were reported killed
and eleven wounded; whilst of the farmers one had been killed and seven
wounded.
With the capture of the leader of this desperate band, the chief object
of the foray had been attained; it was therefore considered useless to
delay the return in the hope of securing the remainder of the outlaws.
The return was accomplished without incident, and the two prisoners
safely lodged at Regina, to await instructions from Ottawa.
*CHAPTER XVII.*
*A CONFESSION.*
"My life upon her faith."--_Othello_, Act I. sc. iii.
To the average man, woman is a riddle. Her ways are past finding out.
Without doubt, the noble deeds of women are not always those which are
blazoned forth to the public eye in books and pamphlets, or by means of
the press.
The quiet, unobtrusive host of duties they perform in the midst of
unheard-of difficulties; their patient endurance of suffering; the
privations they are willing to undergo for those they love; the
obscurity and loneliness in which much of their lives are passed, yet
the unmurmuring and ungrudging way in which devoted service is given:
all this is known to the few, and has yet to be revealed.
It was probably due to one or more of these phases or traits of
character, which the illness of Fellows had developed in Jessie Russell,
that had caused the feeling of friendship he imagined he entertained for
her to reveal itself to him as that of a much warmer and tenderer
attachment, which might more properly be attributed to one of those
well-directed shafts from Cupid's artillery which the little god, with
so much precision, is so well able and so ready to discharge.
Fellows was in love with Jessie Russell. He had to admit that to
himself, and he was longing to confess it to her.
But whenever the occasion presented itself--and opportunities occurred
in abundance--remorse restrained him and kept him silent. Dare he link
her future with one whose past was a record of shame and crime? If she
cared for him--as he sometimes flattered himself she did--need he
trouble her with that which could not possibly do her any good, and
might do much harm?
Whatever may have been the follies and sins of his past life, his moral
perceptions were still keen enough to see that such a course of conduct
would be most dishonouring and dishonourable to the woman he professed
to have a supreme regard for.
Thoughts such as these naturally cast a shadow over his life; he avoided
the society of his fellows, or, when circumstances compelled him to
associate with them, he was moody, taciturn, and reserved, so that in
the house or in the field his converse or communications were of the
briefest, and marked by no feature to lead to its continuance.
His habits and general demeanour had not escaped the notice of Mrs.
Ranger, and, with that womanly intuitiveness so characteristic of the
sex, she had not been long in divining the cause.
Taking advantage of an opportunity one evening when alone together, and
the work of the day was over, she mentioned the subject to her husband.
"Have you noticed how quiet and reserved our chap Fellows has been
lately?"
"Yes, I have, Bess; it seems difficult to get a word out of him."
"What do you suppose to be the cause?"
"Well, I have thought at times he was in love with that girl of
Russell's."
"And if he is, I can't see the reason for his going about moping as he
appears to be doing."
"Nor can I; although I know how hard it is to understand the goings on
of two people in love."
"I'm sure it's not because there is any difficulty on her side. She is
quite as much in love with him as ever he is with her. It's a case
where the man has only got to ask to have."
"I wonder whether he has said anything yet to Jessie on the subject?"
"Well, you need not wonder long, for I can tell you that he has not."
"How do you know that, Bess?"
"Why, of course, from the girl herself. Having a women's natural
curiosity, and exercising that privilege which my age gives me, I asked
her if there was anything between them, and she assured me there was
not."
"Well then, I'll tell you what my opinion is, wife; the chap has got
something else on his mind which troubles him."
"What makes you think that?"
"Little things I have noticed from time to time; but more especially the
few words dropped when he first came here, to the effect that his had
been a wasted life. He said, if I remember right, that he had disgraced
a good name, and now wanted to hide and escape recognition."
"Have you ever tried to gain his confidence?"
"No, Bess, for I have always felt a delicacy about it. In my opinion,
the confidence that is worth the name, should be given willingly, and
not forced."
"A little encouragement might not be thrown away,--natures, you know,
are so different."
"Well, the very next opportunity that offers I will endeavour to draw
him out."
Not many days after this conversation had taken place, Ranger was seated
with Fellows, at the close of the day's labour, outside the house,
smoking their pipes, which seemed to offer the opportunity the former
was waiting for.
Breaking the silence which had reigned for some time, Ranger started by
saying--
"Look here, Fellows, you have been here now sufficiently long to know
that I am not the sort of chap that is anxious to pry into the private
affairs of other people, and therefore what I am about to say is not
with any desire to gratify an idle curiosity."
"That I am quite prepared to believe," he replied; "and anything you
want to know, which I am able to tell, I shall be quite ready to do."
"Well then, to come to the point at once, from your manner of late I
should judge you have something on your mind which is troubling you. Am
I right?"
"Suppose I have! What then?"
"Why, my boy, it will relieve your mind if you feel you can tell me what
is troubling you. And who knows but that I may be able to help you, as
I shall be willing to do if I can."
"Your kindness touches me, but I am afraid your offer will not avail me
much."
"The way to prove that will be by letting me know your difficulty."
"My difficulty, farmer, is the story of my life, which recent events
have brought more prominently before me. For some time I have felt that
I needed a friend,--one in whom I could confide, and who would be
capable of advising me.
"Well, all I will say is, that if you feel you can do so, you may trust
me; and if I am not able to help you, you will find that Ranger is not a
man to betray a trust reposed in him."
"I quite believe you, my friend; and as a proof of the opinion I had
formed of you, I may say I have several times of late been on the point
of opening my mind to you, but something or other has occurred to
prevent my doing so."