excellent terms with the sturdy toilers, who nevertheless cheerfully
submitted to her rule.

When the meal was over, Grant led his guests into a smaller room, and
produced a bag of domestic tobacco.

"The stock have gone far enough," he said. "You'll stay here to-night."

Flett looked doubtful, though it was obvious that he wished to remain.
He was a young, brown-faced man, and his smart khaki uniform proclaimed
him a trooper of the Northwest Mounted Police.

"The trouble is that I'm a bit late on my round already," he protested.

"That's soon fixed," said Grant.

He opened a roll-top desk, and wrote a note which he read out:


"'Constable Flett has been detained in the neighborhood of this
homestead through having rendered, at my request, valuable assistance
in rounding up a bunch of cattle, scattered in crossing the flooded
river.'"


"Thanks," said Flett. "That kind of thing counts when they're choosing
a corporal."

Grant turned to George with a smile.