be on his way, and she shook him gently, then, with all her strength, and
called to him quietly all the time, as if her low tones ought to wake
him, if nothing else could. But he lay in a deep and stolid slumber. It
was no use. She went to her seat and sat down to think. As she did so,
her father entered the room.

"Did you call, Jen?" he said; and turned to the sofa. "I was calling to
Sergeant Tom. He's asleep there; dead-gone, father. I can't wake him."

"Why should you wake him? He is tired."

The sinister lines in Galbraith's face had deepened greatly in the last
hour. He went over and looked closely at the Sergeant, followed
languidly by Pierre, who casually touched the pulse of the sleeping man,
and said as casually:

"Eh, he sleep well; his pulse is like a baby; he was tired, much.
He has had no sleep for one, two, three nights, perhaps; and a good meal,
it makes him comfortable, and so you see!"

Then he touched lightly the triple chevron on Sergeant Tom's arm, and
said:

"Eh, a man does much work for that. And then, to be moral and the friend
of the law all the time!" Pierre here shrugged his shoulders. "It is
easier to be wicked and free, and spend when one is rich, and starve when
one is poor, than to be a sergeant and wear the triple chevron. But the
sleep will do him good just the same, Jen Galbraith."

"He said that he must go to Archangel's Rise tonight, and be back at Fort