The Luck of the Mounted Part 22

An hour or so later, a morbidly expectant group gathered on the river-bank. Redmond, luckily, had reached the detachment just prior to the coroner's departure, and that gentleman now comprised one of a party.

Slavin had hitched his team to a cotton-wood clump nearby, and was now busily rigging the double set of three-p.r.o.nged grappling-irons. When all was ready, he motioned to his companions to stand back, and then, with a preliminary whirl or two, flung the irons into the pool, some distance ahead of the spot indicated by Redmond.

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 G.o.d, 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 r.e.t.a.r.ded 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 p.r.o.ngs 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--d.i.c.k 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 G.o.d!" 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 hoa.r.s.ely, "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 pa.s.s with toil and net, 'Counter'd, where'er he turns his glare, By clas.h.i.+ng 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 a.s.sumed a listening att.i.tude. "Th' Sarjint an' him's out there now--chewin' th' rag 'bout it--hark to 'em!"

Ceasing their cleaning operations for a s.p.a.ce, 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?"