"Of course," said George. "I was forgetting. Those fellows had you down. Are you hurt?"
"They knocked me out with something heavy—my whip, I guess—but I'm getting over it. Cleaned out my pockets; went off with both teams."
George nodded.
"It's pretty bad; quite impossible to get after them. They'll head for
Montana as fast as they can ride."
"Did you see any of them clearly?"
"One fellow looked like Langside, though I couldn't swear to him; but I'd know the man who knifed my horse. Remembered that would be desirable, in case he escaped me; and I got a good look at him. Now, if you feel able shall we make a start? I'm afraid the horse is too lame to carry you."
He picked up the knife. Grant rose, and they set off, leading the horse, which moved slowly and painfully. It had grown dark and the trail was rough, but the farmer plodded homeward, stopping a few moments now and then. The path, however, grew smoother when they had left the sandy ridges behind, and by and by the lights of the homestead commenced to twinkle on the vast shadowy plain. Soon after they reached it, George rode away, mounted on a fresh horse, in search of Constable Flett.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE CLIMAX
George was tired and sleepy when he reached the settlement early in the morning, and found Flett at Hardie's house. It transpired from their conversation that there had been a disturbance at the Sachem on the return of a party which had driven out to the sale, and one man, who accused a companion of depriving him of a bargain, had attacked and badly injured him with a decanter. Flett, being sent for, had arrested the fellow, and afterward called upon the clergyman for information about his antecedents and character. He listened with close attention while George told his tale; and then examined the knife he produced.