th' loft an'--I'm that scared of fire," he ended lamely, "I never lock up
fur that."

Slavin nodded wisely. "Yes! I guess he made his getaway from yu'--easy.
Mighty long toime since yuh've bin able tu dhrag yeh're guts up that
ladder--lit alone squeege thru' th' thrap-dhure. Bet Lanky does all th'
chorin'." He glanced around him impatiently, "But this here's all
talk--it don't lead nowheres. Hullo! this is Gully's team, ain't it?"
He indicated a splendid pair of roans standing in a double stall nearby.

"Yes!" said Lee, "he pulled in las' night t' catch th' nine-thirty down
t' Calgary. He ain't back yet."

"Fwas he--" Slavin checked himself abruptly--"fwhat toime did he get in
here?"

"'Bout nine."

"Fwhat toime 'bout fwas ut whin this racket shtarted up betune Windy an'
Larry?"

"Oh, I dunno, Sarjint!--'bout nine, may be--as I say I--"

"Come on!" said the sergeant, abruptly, to his men, "let's go an' eat.
Luk afther thim harses good, Nick," he flung back in a kind tone.

Outside in the dark road they gathered together, bandying mystified
conjecture in low tones. "'Tis no use arguin', bhoys," snapped Slavin at
last, wearily, "we've got tu see Chuck Reed an' Bob Ingalls an' Brophy av
th' hotel. Their wurrd goes--they're straight men. If they had Windy