"I'm guessing West and Whaley."

Morse made no comment. Bully West had thrown in his fortune with Dug
Whaley, a gambler who had drifted from one mining camp to another and
been washed by the tide of circumstance into the Northwest. Ostensibly
they supplied blankets, guns, food, and other necessities to the
tribes, but there was a strong suspicion that they made their profit
in whiskey smuggled across the plains.

"But to guess it and to prove it are different propositions. How am
I going to hang it on them? I can't make a bally fool of myself
by prodding around in their bales and boxes. If I didn't find
anything--and it'd be a long shot against me--West and his gang would
stick their tongues in their cheeks and N.W.M.P. stock would shoot
down. No, I've got to make sure, jump 'em, and tie 'em up by finding
the goods on the wagons."

"Fat chance," speculated Tom.

"That's where you come in."

"Oh, I come in there, do I? I begin to hear Old Man Trouble knockin'
at my door like you promised. Break it kinda easy. Am I to go up an'
ask Bully West where he keeps his fire-water cached? Or what?"

"Yes. Only don't mention to him that you're asking. Your firm and his
trade back and forth, don't they?"

"Forth, but not back. When they've got to have some goods--if it's
neck or nothing with them--they buy from us. We don't buy from them.
You couldn't exactly call us neighborly."

Beresford explained. "West's just freighted in a cargo of goods. I can
guarantee that if he brought any liquor with him--and I've good reason
to think he did--it hasn't been unloaded yet. To-morrow the wagons
will scatter. I can't follow all of 'em. If I cinch Mr. West, it's got
to be to-night."

"I see. You want me to give you my blessin'. I'll come through with a
fine big large one. Go to it, constable. Hogtie West with proof.
Soak him good. Send him up for 'steen years. You got my sympathy an'
approval, one for the grief you're liable to bump into, the other for
your good intentions."

The officer's grin had a touch of the proverbial Cheshire cat's
malice. "Glad you approve. But you keep that sympathy for yourself.
I'm asking you to pull the chestnut out of the fire for me. You'd
better look out or you'll burn your paw."

"Just remember I ain't promisin' a thing. I'm a respectable business
man now, and, as I said, duckin' trouble."

"Find out for me in which wagon the liquor is. That's all I ask."

"How can I find out? I'm no mind re