d this way from Fort Benton, have you?"

"Nope!" Bill promptly answered. "We've been here two days, and nobody
passed here--has they, Charlie?" The freighter confirmed Bill's
assertion and the troopers were then ordered to stable their horses for
an hour.

"How is your sister, Charlie?" Danvers asked at his earliest
opportunity. He was sorry to see the freighter, feeling something was
amiss.

"She's in the East, at boarding-school," answered Charlie. "I couldn't
do by her as I should," he went on. "Fort Benton's no place to bring up
Winnie."

"Remember me to her when you write," said Danvers, walking his horse
away as Charlie passed inside the trading-post.

"What are yeh thinkin'?" whispered one of the detail in the dark of the
stables as the horses were being fed.

"Not much of anything," Danvers whispered back.

"Yes, yeh are. Yeh know they's _cached_ whiskey somewhere around."

Coming from the stables, Danvers passed the conspicuously empty wagons
belonging to the Americans. He noticed that the pile of refuse near by
was not covered with snow, although the stables had not been cleaned.
Walking nearer, he detected a strong odor of whiskey rising from the
wagon boxes. He remembered the sweat on the men's foreheads. Getting a
stable fork he struck sharply into the compost. Something clinked. A
quick throwing of the litter uncovered a case, such as was commonly used
to convey liquor.

As it was his duty, Danvers walked to the captain and saluted.

"I've found a _cache_ of whiskey, sir," he answered, respectfully.

The captain investigated. Then he opened the door of the shack and
surprised the Americans eating breakfast.

When placed under arrest, they seemed stunned, submitting without demur.

"I bet Danvers found that _cache_!" muttered Bill. "He's too foxy fer
me!"

On the return trip to Fort Macleod, Me-Casto began to fear that the men
would attempt to prove that the whiskey was not Burroughs'. He knew what
he had heard in the lodges; but what would his word be, as against these
defiant men? He pondered for many miles, then thought of another way to
bring disgrace on Burroughs. He would yet have Pine Coulee, himself!
Riding close to the wagon where the morose Charlie sat, Me-Casto
craftily engaged in conversation.

"_Kitzi-nan-nappi-ekki?_" (your whiskey?) he asked. The Blackfeet would
make no effort to learn English, although they understood a little; but
most white men had a fair knowledge of th