trooper took the letter, which was typed and bore no date or name
of place.

"'Keep off this trial and you'll have no more trouble,'" he read aloud.
"'Back up the police and you'll be sorry. If you mean to drop them,
drive over to the Butte, Thursday, and get supper at the Queen's.'"

"Yesterday was Thursday, and I didn't go," George said after a moment's
silence.

The quiet intimation was not a surprise to any of them, and Flett
nodded as he examined the letter.

"Not much of a clue," he remarked. "Toronto paper that's sold at every
store; mailed two stations down the line. Nobody would have met you at
the Queen's, but most anybody in town would know if you had been there.
Anyway, I'll take this along." He rose. "I can't stop, but I want to
say we're not afraid of your backing down."

He rode off in a few more minutes and after a while the Grants took
their leave, but Flora walked down the trail with George while the team
was being harnessed.

"You'll be careful, won't you?" she said. "These men are dangerous;
they know yours is the most important evidence. I shall be anxious
until the trial."

There was something in her eyes and voice that sent a curious thrill
through George.

"I don't think that's needful; I certainly won't be reckless," he said.

Then Flora got into the vehicle; and during the next week or two George
took precautions. Indeed, he now and then felt a little uncomfortable
when he had occasion to pass a shadowy bluff. He carried a pistol when
he went around the outbuildings at night, and fell into a habit of
stopping to listen, ready to strike or shoot, each time he opened the
door of one in the dark.

For all that, nothing occurred to excite suspicion, and after a while
he felt inclined to smile at his nervousness. At length, one day when
the trial was close at hand, and Edgar had gone to the Butte, the
mail-carrier brought him a note from Grant.

It consisted of a couple of lines asking him to come over during the
evening, and as supper had been finished two hours before, George
realized that there was not much time to spare. Laying down the note,
he walked to the door and called his Canadian hired man.

"Put the saddle on the brown horse, Jake; I'm going to Grant's."

The man did as he was bidden, and when George was about to mount handed
him a repeating rifle.

"Better take this along; cylinder's full," he said. "It will be dark
before you get there."

George hesitat