The Mistress of Bonaventure

"Yes," I answered, wondering. "He locked it inside that bureau and put the keys into his pocket."

The girl wrenched at the handle, and I noticed by the creaking of the bureau how strong, in spite of her slenderness, she was. The lock would not yield, and she turned imperiously to me. "Don't waste a moment, but smash that drawer in!"

"It is a beautiful piece of maple, and why do you wish to destroy it?" I said, and, for she had a high spirit, fancied Lucille Haldane came near stamping one little foot impatiently.

"Can you not do the first thing I ask you without asking questions?" she said.

There was nothing more to be said, and stooping for the poker, I whirled it around my head. One end of the bar doubled on itself, but the front of the drawer crushed in, and when I had wrenched out the fragments, Lucille drew forth the book.

"I know what my father promised, and there is Miss Redmond to consider. She has suffered too much already," she said, tearing out whole pages in hot hurry. "Sergeant Mackay is much less foolish than I once heard you call him, and I have no doubt suspects something of this. Can't you see that he could force us to give the papers up? I am going to burn them."

"That at least you shall not do," I said, taking them from her with as much gentleness as possible, but by superior force, and then positively quailed before the anger and astonishment in the girl's face.

"You are still so afraid of Lane that you would risk bringing fresh sorrow on that poor girl in order to protect yourself?" she said, with biting scorn.

"No," I answered stolidly, without pausing for reflection. "I only wish to declare it was I who destroyed this evidence, if there is any trouble over the affair."

I tore the book to pieces and rammed the fragments deep among the burning logs as I spoke, and when this was accomplished I did not look up until Lucille Haldane called me by name. Gentle as she could be, I had a wholesome respect for her wrath.

"I deserved it," she said, with a bewitching deepening of the crimson in her cheeks and a shining in her eyes. "You will forgive me. I had not time to think."

Thereupon I longed for eloquence, or Boone's ready wit; but no neat speech came to my relief, and while I racked my clouded brains the girl must have guessed what was taking place, for merriment crept into her eyes. Then, just as an inspiration dawned on me, as usual, too late, a hurried tread drew nearer along the passage.

"It is Sergeant Mackay, and he must not come in here," said my companion with a nervous laugh, as she glanced at the shattered bureau. "Is it quite impossible for you to hurry?" Then before I realized what was happening, she had placed one hand on my shoulder and positively hustled me out of the door. Hardly knowing what I did, I clutched at the little fingers, and missed them, and the next moment I plunged violently into the astonished sergeant.

"Mr. Ormesby is ready, and so are the horses. I hope your chase will be successful," a voice, which sounded a little uneven (though there was a trace of laughter in it) said, and the door swung to.

Mackay looked at me curiously; and when we had mounted, said: "I'm asking no questions, but yon was surely a bit summary dismissal!"

"It's just as well you are not, because I am afraid I should not answer them," I said, and Mackay frowned upon his subordinate when Cotton laughed.

We had ridden a league before he vouchsafed any explanation. "I could not call in my other men in time, and as we may have to divide forces, demanded your assistance in virtue of the powers entrusted me," he said formally. "We'll call first at Gordon's on the odd chance our man is there, and pick up Adams, though Lane's away hot-foot for the rail by now, I'm thinking. He had no' a bad nerve to cut it so fine."

"Did the confounded rascal know there was a warrant out?" I gasped, almost pulling my horse up in my indignation, as I remembered Boone's hint.

"We did not advertise the fact, but yon man knows everything, and I'm no' saying it's quite impossible," Mackay answered dryly. "But what ails ye that ye're drawing bridle, Harry Ormesby?"

I drove the spurs in the next second and shot clear a length ahead, and, though the Bonaventure horses were good, the others had hard work to catch me during the next mile or two. If Lane suspected the issue of the warrant, he had victimized us to the end, for he had tricked us into furnishing him with not only the means of escape, but sufficient ready money to start him upon a fresh career in another land. We met Boone and Haldane returning from Gordon's ranch, and while the former advised the sergeant that Lane must be well on his way to the station by this time, I drew Haldane aside and hurriedly related what had happened at Bonaventure.

"Lane is a capable rascal, and will certainly catch the westbound train. There is little to be gained either by wiring the bank," he said. "He insisted on taking a large share in paper currency, and as the draft was one I had by me, he would no doubt arrange for his friends to cash it before I could warn the drawer. Do you know the bureau you smashed in cost me sixty dollars, Ormesby?"

I was endeavoring to express my contrition when Haldane laughed. "I am not sure that you are the only person responsible for the destruction of my furniture."

Mackay had started before our conversation was finished, and it cost Boone and me a long gallop to come up with him, while it was only by dint of hard riding that we eventually reached the station some hours after the departure of the train. Mackay first of all wired to the stations down the line, and then explained: "That's just a useless duty. Yon man is keen enough to know he might find the troopers waiting for him. He'll leave the cars at the flag station where there's nobody to detain him, and, buying a horse at the first ranch, strike south for the border. It would be desirable that we grip him before he reaches it."

Because various formalities must be gone through before a Canadian offender is handed over by the Americans, this was clear enough, though I did not see how it was to be accomplished, until Mackay had exchanged high words with the station agent. A freight locomotive and an empty stock car rolled out of the siding, and we took our places therein, men and horses together.

"Sorry I haven't got a new bogie drawing-room for you, but it's getting time the police gave some other station a share of their business," said the exasperated railroad official. I also overheard him tell the engineer: "You have got to be back by daylight, and needn't be particular about shaking them."

It was not the fault of the engineer if he did not shake the life out of us. Canadian lines are neither metalled nor ballasted with much solidity; and with only one car to steady it the huge machine appeared to leap over each inequality of the track. There was also nipping frost in the air, the prairie glittered under the stars, and bitter draughts pulsed through the lurching car. It was not an easy matter to keep the horses on their feet or to maintain our own balance, but the swish of the dust and the rattle of flung-up ballast brought some comfort as an indication of our speed.

"It's a steeplechase already," gasped Boone, holding on by a head-rope as we roared across a bridge. "I looked at the gauge-glass, and the engineer can hardly have full steam up yet. We'll be lucky to escape with whole limbs when he has."

The prediction was fully justified, for the bouncing, jolting, and hammering increased with the pace, and I made most of the journey holding fast by a very cold rail as for my life, while half-seen through the rush of ballast I watched the prairie race past. When one could look forward there was nothing visible but a field of dancing stars and a smear of white below, athwart which the blaze of the great headlamp drove onwards with the speed of a comet. All of us were thankful when the locomotive was pulled up before a lonely shed, and while we dragged the horses out the man who drove it, grinning at his stoker, said: "I guess there's no bonus for beating the record on this contract?"

"No," said Mackay dryly. "Ye have the satisfaction of knowing ye served the State."

By good fortune we found a sleepy man in the galvanized iron shed, and he informed us that Lane had alighted from the last train and started on foot towards the nearest ranch, which lay about a league away. Inside of fifteen minutes we were pounding on its door, and the startled owner said that the man we asked for had bought a good horse from him, and inquired the shortest route to the American frontier.

"Four hours' start," said Mackay, as we proceeded again. "Ye can add another three for the making of inquiries and searching for his trail. It will be a close race, I'm thinking."

It certainly proved so, as well as a long one, because we lost much time halting at lonely ranches, and still more in riding in wrong directions; for Lane had evidently picked up somebody, perhaps a contrabandist, well versed in the art of laying a false trail. Neither did he strike straight for the border, and after dividing and joining forces several times, it was late one evening when we found ourselves close behind him.

"Oh, yes! A man like that paid me forty dollars to swap horses with him and his partner, it might be an hour ago," said the last rancher at whose dwelling we stopped. "Seemed in a mighty hurry to reach Montana. How long might it take you to reach the frontier? Well, that's a question of horses, and I've no more in my corral. You ought to get there by daylight, or a little earlier. Follow the wheel trail and you'll see a boundary stake on the edge of the big coulée to the left of it."

Though we had twice changed horses, our beasts were jaded; but there was solace in the thought that Lane was an indifferent rider, and must have almost reached the limits of his endurance, while, though used to the saddle, I was too tired to retain more than a blurred impression of that last night's ride. There was no moon, but the blue heavens were thick with twinkling stars, and the prairie glittered faintly under the white hoar frost. It swelled into steeper rises than those we were used to, while at times we blundered down the crumbling sides of deep hollows, destitute of verdure, in which the bare earth rang metallically beneath the hoofs. Still, the wheel trail led straight towards the south, and, aching all over, we pushed on, as best we could, until I grew too drowsy even to notice my horse's stumbles or to speculate what the end would be. Before that happened, however, I had considered the question and decided that there was no need for any scruples in seizing Lane if the chance fell to me. We had merely promised to refrain from pressing one particular charge against the fugitive, and were willing to keep our bargain, though he on his part had deceived us into making it.

At last, when only conscious of the cruel jolting and the thud of tired hoofs which rose and fell in a drowsy cadence through the silence, Mackay's voice roused me, and I fancied I made out two mounted figures faintly projected against the sky ahead. "Yon's them, and ye'll each do your best. We're distressfully close on the frontier now," he said.

Once more the spurs sank into the jaded beast, and when it responded I became suddenly wide awake. It was bitterly cold and that hour in the morning when man's vitality sinks to its lowest ebb; but one and all braced themselves for the final effort. Boone, in spite of all that I could do, drew out ahead, and we followed as best we might, blundering down into gullies and over rises where the grass grew harsh and high, while thrice we lost the man who led us as well as the fugitives. Nevertheless, they hove into sight again before a league had passed, and it even seemed that we gained a little on the one who lagged behind, until, at last, the blue of the heavens faded, and grayness gathered in the east.

It spread over half the horizon; the two figures before us grew more distinct; and Boone rode almost midway between ourselves and them, when, as though by magic, the first one disappeared. Mackay roared to Cotton when, topping a rise, there opened before us a winding hollow, and Boone, wheeling his horse, waved an arm warningly.

"It's the wrong man doubling. Come on your hardest until the trail forks, and then try left and right!" he shouted before he, too, sank from view beneath the edge of the hollow.

There were birches in the ravine as well as willow groves, and the fugitives had vanished among them, leaving no trace behind. There were, unfortunately, also several trails, and, because time was precious, the noise we made pressing up and down them would have prevented our hearing any sound. Mackay, who in spite of this, sat still listening, used a little illicit language, and rated Cotton for no particular cause, while I had managed to entangle myself in a thicket, when Boone's voice fell sharply from the opposite rise: "Gone away! He has taken to the open!"

With many a stumble we compassed the steep ascent, and, as we gained the summit, the growing light showed me a solitary figure already diminishing down a stretch of level prairie. "It's our last chance!" roared Mackay, pointing to what looked like a break in the grasses ahead. "I'm fearing yon's the boundary."

Our beasts were worn out, their riders equally so; but we called up the last of our failing strength to make a creditable finish of the race. The coulée was left behind us, and Lane's figure grew larger ahead, for Mackay, who certainly did not wish to, declared he could see no boundary post. Then as the first crimson flushed the horizon, a lonely homestead rose out of the grass, and when Lane rode straight for it the sergeant swore in breathless gasps. A little smoke curled from its chimney, for the poorer ranchers rise betimes in that country. We saw Lane drop from the saddle and disappear within the door, while when we drew bridle before it, two gaunt brown-faced men came out and regarded us stolidly.

"What place is this?" asked Mackay with a gasp.

One of them seemed to consider before he answered him: "Well, it's generally allowed to be Todhunter's Wells."

"That's not what I want," said the sergeant. "Where's the boundary?" This time the other man laughed as he pointed backwards across the prairie we had traversed.

"'Bout a league behind you. No, sir; you're not in Canada. This, as the song says, is 'the land of the free.' You'll find the big stake by the coulée, if you don't believe me."

"Beaten!" said Mackay, dropping his bridle; and added aside: "Whisky smugglers by their manners, I'm thinking." As we endeavored to master our disappointment, Lane himself appeared in the doorway. He looked very weary, his fleshy face was haggard and mottled by streaks of gray; but the humorous gleam I hated shone mockingly in his eyes.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sergeant, but you can't complain about the chase!" he said. "Even Cannuck policemen and amateur detectives aren't recognized here; and as there are two respectable witnesses, I'm afraid you'll have to apply to the Washington authorities. You can tell Mr. Haldane, Ormesby, that there's no use in stopping his check. I don't think there is anything else I need say, except that, as I have booked all the accommodation here, they might give you breakfast at the ranch in the coulée."

He actually nodded to us, and thrusting his hands into his pockets, leaned against the lintel of the door with an air of amusement which was not needed to remind us that he was master of the situation, and for the last time set my blood on fire. There was, however, nothing to be gained by virulence, and when Mackay, who disdained to answer a word, wheeled his jaded horse, we silently followed him towards the coulée.

"I wish the Americans joy of him," the grizzled sergeant said, at length. "There's just one bit consolation – we can very well spare him; and ye'll mind what the douce provost said in the song – 'Just e'en let him be; the toon is weel quit o' that deil o' Dundee.'"

Boone, smiling curiously, closed with the speaker. "There is one thing I expected he did not do, and as it could hardly be due to magnanimity, he must have forgotten it," he said. "You will not go back empty-handed, Sergeant. Are you aware that you hold a warrant for me?"

Mackay pulled his horse up and stared at him. "I cannot see the point of yon joke," he said.

"There isn't one," was the answer. "Now that my work is finished, I see no further need of hiding the fact that, while you knew me as Adams, my name is – Boone."

Mackay still stared at him, then laughed a little, as it were in admiration, but silently. "I'm understanding a good deal now – and that was why ye helped run yon thief down. Well, I'll take your parole, and I'm thinking ye will have little trouble since the prosecutor's gone."