Jen turned to the sitting-room, and Sergeant Tom moved to the tavern
door, followed by Pierre, who, as he passed Galbraith, touched the old
man's waistcoat pocket, and said: "Thirty drops in the coffee."

Then he passed out, singing softly:

"And he sleepeth so well, and he sleepeth so long
The fight it was hard, my dear;
And his foes were many and swift and strong
Oh, the sweet Saint Gabrielle hear!"

There was danger ahead for Sergeant Thomas Gellatly. Galbraith followed
his daughter to the sitting-room. She went to the kitchen and brought
bread, and cold venison, and prairie fowl, and stewed dried apples--the
stay and luxury of all rural Canadian homes. The coffee-pot was then
placed on the table. Then the old man said: "Better give him some of
that old cheese, Jen, hadn't you? It's in the cellar." He wanted to be
rid of her for a few moments. "S'pose I had," and Jen vanished.

Now was Galbraith's chance. He took the vial of laudanum from his
pocket, and opened the coffee-pot. It was half full. This would not
suit. Someone else--Jen--might drink the coffee also! Yet it had to be
done. Sergeant Tom should not go on. Inspector Jules and his Riders of
the Plains must not be put upon the track of Val. Twelve hours would
make all the difference. Pour out a cup of coffee?--Yes, of course, that
would do. It was poured out quickly, and then thirty drops of laudanum
were carefully counted into it. Hark, they are coming back!--Just in
time. Sergeant Tom and Pierre enter from outside, and then Jen from the
kitchen. Galbraith is pouring another cup of coffee as they enter, and