Part 9 (1/2)
”Quiet, Don! Quiet!” the girl called.
She stood waiting. Silk observed that she was dressed in dark serge and wore a green felt sun hat, which did not wholly conceal her very fair hair. He also noticed that she carried an artist's canvas and a portable easel.
”How do, officer?” the girl said in response to his salutation, as he drew to a halt in front of her. ”The sight of your uniform is like a rainbow. It signifies hope.”
”Hope?” he smiled. ”Hope of what?”
”Hope that you are here to protect a lone and defenceless wayfarer from danger,” she answered him. ”My teamster alarms me with the news that there is a notorious highwayman prowling around in these parts.
Naturally the presence of a member of the Mounted Police is rea.s.suring.”
She glanced at the stripes on his arm. ”Won't you dismount, Sergeant?”
she asked.
Sergeant Silk slipped from his saddle.
”I'm glad to know that you have been warned,” he said. ”I can't deny that the warning is reasonable. As a matter of fact, we are at present hunting for that same highwayman.”
”I hope you will catch him,” the girl urged. ”One hardly expects to be troubled by such characters in peaceful, law-abiding Alberta. I hope sincerely that he will be arrested. Do you think he will be, Sergeant?
Shall I be safe, camping here?”
”You need not be afraid,” Silk a.s.sured her. ”Whatever else happens, Nick-By-Night shall not be allowed to interrupt your sketching tour.”
The girl looked at him in amused wonder.
”My sketching tour?” she repeated. ”You have not taken long to discover that I am an artist.”
”The fact is obvious,” he rejoined quickly, indicating the canvas that she held in her left hand. Its back was towards him, and he could not see what she had painted; but he added at a venture: ”You made a picture of Minnew.a.n.ka Mountain this morning.”
”How do you know?” she asked in surprise. ”Were you there? Did you see me at work?” She turned the canvas and held it for his inspection. ”It is only a rough sketch,” she explained. ”I haven't come out West on a sketching tour. It is only my amus.e.m.e.nt. I am on my way to pay a surprise visit to my brother on his ranch at Mosquito Crossing. I am going to live with him, I hope, and help him with housekeeping. Perhaps you know him?”
Sergeant Silk had glanced aside at a packing-case that lay on the gra.s.s near one of the wheels of the wagon. She saw that he was reading what was written on the address label: ”Miss K. Grey, Mosquito Crossing, Red Deer River, Alberta.”
An expression of perplexity came upon his face.
”I did not know that any one of the name of Grey had a ranch near Mosquito Crossing,” he said. ”There was Andrew Grey, who ran a fruit farm near Medicine Hat; but he was too old to be a brother of yours, and besides----”
He broke off.
”My brother's name is Jim,” Miss Grey explained.
”When did you last hear from him?” Silk inquired.
”Oh, months and months ago--six months, at least. It is because he hasn't written to me that I have come out to take him by surprise.”
”I see,” Silk nodded. ”But many changes may happen in six months. I guess you had better have announced your intention. He might then have met you and saved you some trouble. Surprise visits aren't any more successful in Alberta than anywhere else. They're a mistake.”
The fair-haired girl stared at him in alarm.
”Do you mean that something has happened to Jim?” she cried. ”Do you mean that I shall not find him--that he has gone away--or that he is dead?”