Part 7 (2/2)

”Then that is where you are bound for?” Percy Rapson inquired. He had met the two Riders of the Plains unexpectedly, earlier in the day, and had continued to ride in their company, intending to break off from them on reaching the cross trail leading to his home at Rattlesnake Ranch.

”Exactly,” Silk answered.

”Are you going to allow me to stand in with you?” the boy asked.

The sergeant shook his head.

”It would hardly be wise,” he responded. ”You might get hurt. There's sure to be some shooting, and I don't figure that I shall need you to identify him. I shall know him when I see him.”

”You ought to,” rejoined Percy. ”You've seen him before.”

”Eh?” Sergeant Silk looked aside at him in curious surprise. ”I've seen him before, you say? When? Where?”

”Six months ago,” Rapson answered, ”at Calgary Races. I was there at the time, only you didn't know me very well then. It was in the Golden Bar saloon. I dare say you would have arrested him then, only there was a nasty scuffle; you were wounded, and he gave you the slip.”

Silk checked his mare's pace and stared at his young friend in a puzzled manner.

”Do you mean that swell mobsman with the diamond ring?” he questioned.

”The chap who was playing three-card monte? Was _that_ Nick-By-Night?”

”That's the chap, sure,” Rapson informed him. ”He'd done me out of two pounds by that sharper's trick of his, and I'd followed him and his gang of confederates into the saloon to try to get my money back. You remember what happened?”

”I am not likely to forget,” answered the sergeant, ”since apart from the wound, which was not worth mention, it was the one occasion in my experience on which I have known the excitement of pitting my common-sense against the skill of a professional swindler.”

Percy recalled the exciting incident to his own memory now as he followed the red-coated officer down the trail. He pictured to himself the noisy saloon, thronged with racing men, cowboys, ranchers, idlers from the town and the outlying homesteads, with a sprinkling of Indians and half-breeds.

He saw a tall, lithe, blue-eyed man, dressed as a rancher, in corduroys, blue s.h.i.+rt, and wide felt hat, slowly threading his way, as though without definite aim, among the little tables at which men sat drinking, smoking, gambling. Percy did not recognise him at first in his disguise, never before having seen him out of his smart uniform of the Mounted Police; but presently he overheard a half-breed muttering--

”_Parbleu!_ yes; it ees Sergean' Seelk! He shape for mek de arrest of Monsieur Cutlaire. What?”

Rapson watched the sergeant saunter up to the table at which the card-sharper now sat with a couple of companions as flas.h.i.+ly dressed as himself.

”Say, stranger, what kind of a lay-out d'you call this?” Silk inquired in a slow, drawling voice, without removing the cigarette from his lips.

The sleek, clean-shaven, flas.h.i.+ly dressed man with the diamond ring looked up at him without suspicion, evidently supposing that he was what he appeared to be--a careless, good-natured, easy-going rancher out for a holiday; a likely victim to be gulled and fleeced.

”What sort of eyesight have you got, cully?” the gambler asked, holding up three cards with their faces outwards, so that the newcomer might see them.

”Oh, I dunno,” said Silk, trying to look stupid. ”Pretty middlin', I reckon. Why?”

”Say, now,” went on the three-card man, ”d'you reckon you could locate the king when I throw them out, this way?”

”Why, cert'nly,” declared Silk, pointing at one of the cards. ”It's that one.”

”My!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the dealer in pretended surprise. ”So it is! You're not such a cariboo as you look. But I bet you five dollars you can't do it a second time.”

”Right you are,” Silk agreed, producing a five-dollar bill. ”Show your money.”

For a second time he was allowed to pick out the king and to take possession of the stakes. The table was now surrounded by a pressing crowd of onlookers, including Percy Rapson, who tried to attract the sergeant's attention and to caution him against the certainty of being swindled; but Silk held his face down, shadowed by his wide felt hat, all his attention upon the game.

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