Raw Gold | Page 8

us from behind steadily held Winchesters.
The very suddenness of the hold-up made it a complete success. Apart,
and moving, we might have scattered in the brush like young quail, and
so have been able to give the gentlemen a hard run for the money. But
we were bunched together, shocked out of all caution, staring at the
pitiful figure at our feet when MacRae unmasked the fire, and the flare
of it surrounded us with a yellow nimbus that made us fair marks for a
gun. With that dazzling light in our eyes and those ugly-looking
customers at the business end of the guns, it would have been out and
out suicide to reach for a six-shooter. For at that period in Northwestern
history, when a man had the drop on you under such conditions, there
was absolutely no question of what would happen if you made a
suspicious move. We were fairly caught, and there was nothing to do
but elevate our digits and paw the air as commanded.
It took one of those Western Turpins about a minute to relieve us of our
artillery, after which he silently proceeded to lead our horses out of
sight. When he did that I began to hope the horses were all they wanted,
that they had no knowledge of the money I carried; but my hopes died
an early death, for he was back in a moment, and the man behind the
gun indicated me with a motion of the Winchester.
"That long, stoop-shouldered gazabo's got the stuff on him," he
growled.
There was half a second when I entertained a wild notion of getting
fractious. A fellow hates to make a bungle of the first decent trust he's
had in a long time; but I was in a tight place, and I couldn't figure
where I'd delay giving up beyond the length of time it would take the

gentleman with the Winchester to drill me. Under the circumstances it
didn't take long to decide that it was a heap better all around to be
robbed alive than dead--they'd get the money anyway, and if I got
myself shot up to no purpose that would spoil all chance of getting
back at them later.
The silent partner wasted no time in fruitless search of my person. He
seemed to know right where to look, which was another feature of the
play that I didn't sabe at the time. He reached down inside my shirt,
with a none too gentle hand, and relieved me of the belt that held the
money. Then the pair of them backed up, still covering us, and faded
away in the gloom.
CHAPTER IV.
A TALE HALF TOLD.
When they were gone we let our hands down to their natural level and
drew a long breath.
"We appear to have got considerably the worst of this transaction," I
observed. "The La Pere outfit is shy something like ten thousand
dollars--we're afoot, minus everything but cigarette material. It's a
wonder they didn't take that, too. A damn good stroke of business, all
right," I finished, feeling mighty sore at myself. When it was too late, I
could think of half a dozen ways we might have avoided getting held
up.
"I got you into it, too," MacRae said calmly. "But don't get excited and
run on the rope this early in the game, Sarge; you'll only throw yourself.
Brace up. We've been in worse holes before." Never a word of what it
might mean to him; never even hinted that the high moguls at Fort
Walsh were more than likely to put him on the rack for letting any such
lawless work be carried out successfully, in his own district. A
Mounted Policeman can make no excuses for letting a tough customer
slip through his fingers; the only way he can escape censure is to be
brought in feet first.

He motioned to the poor devil lying by the fire.
"Look at him, Sarge," he went on, in a different tone. "You always had
a pretty good memory for faces. So have I, for that matter, but--go
ahead--look."
I bent over the man, looked closely at the still features, dropped on one
knee and turned his face toward the firelight to make sure. I recognized
him instantly, and I knew that MacRae had no doubts of his identity,
for each of us had broken bread and slept in the same blankets with that
quiet figure.
"It's Rutter," I whispered, and MacRae nodded silently.
"He's done for, too--no, by God, he isn't!" I cried, and shrank
involuntarily, for his eyeballs rolled till only the whites showed in a
way that made me shudder. "He's not dead, yet, Mac!"
"One of you fellows get some water," Mac commanded. He squatted
beside