He opened a roll-top desk, and wrote a note which he read out:
"'Constable Flett has been detained in the neighborhood of this homestead through having rendered, at my request, valuable assistance in rounding up a bunch of cattle, scattered in crossing the flooded river.'"
"Thanks," said Flett. "That kind of thing counts when they're choosing a corporal."
Grant turned to George with a smile.
"Keep in with the police, Lansing—I've known a good supper now and then go a long way. They may worry you about fireguards and fencing, but they'll stand by you when you're in trouble, if you treat them right. If it's a matter of straying stock, a sick horse, or you don't know how to roof a new barn, you have only to send for the nearest trooper."
"Aren't these things a little outside their duties?" Edgar asked.
The constable grinned.
"Most anything that wants doing badly is right in our line."
"Sure," said Grant. "It's not long since Flett went two hundred miles over the snow with a dog-team to settle a little difference between an Indian and his wife. Then he once brought a hurt trapper a fortnight's journey on his sledge, sleeping in the snow, in the bitterest weather. They were quite alone, and the hurt man was crazy most of the time."
"Then you're supposed to look after the settlers, as well as to keep order?" suggested Edgar, looking admiringly at the sturdy young constable.