hoofs began to clog up with soft snow.

"They're 'balling-up' pretty bad, Sergeant!" remarked Redmond. And, as
he spoke the "off" horse suddenly slipped and fell, and, plunging to its
feet again, a leg slid over the cutter's tongue.

"Whoa, now! whoa!" barked Slavin, with an oath, as the mettled,
high-strung animal began to kick affrightedly. Slipping again it sank
down in the snow and remained still for some tense moments.

Like a flash Redmond sprang from the cutter, and rapidly and warily he
unhooked the team's traces. This done he crept to their heads and
slipped the end of the tongue out of the neck-yoke ring. Slavin by this
time was also on his feet in the snow, with the situation well in hand.
He clucked softly to his team, the fallen horse plunged to its feet again
and the next moment all was clear. George, burrowing around in the snow
unearthed a big stone, with which he proceeded to tap the team's shoes
all round until the huge snow-clogs fell out. In silence the two men
hooked up again and were soon on their way.

"H-mm!" grunted the big Irishman at last, eyeing his subordinate with a
sidelong glance of approval, "h-mm! teamster?"

"Oh, I don't know, Sergeant" responded Redmond deprecatingly, "of course
I've been around teams some--down East, on the old man's farm. . . I
don't know that I can claim to be a real teamster--as you judge them in
the Force."

"H-mm!" grunted Slavin again, "ye seem tu have th' makin's anyway." He
expectorated musingly. "Wan time--down at Coutts 'twas--a young feller