the other two prisoners as an active participator in the robbery. I
refer to--" and so on.

The jury retired for a considerable time, and when the foreman reappeared
he announced that they found two of the prisoners guilty, and Thomas
Fletcher not guilty, the latter in a very doubtful tone. He also appeared
desirous of adding some explanation, which was not permitted; while, as
the court broke up, I noticed the detective watching Fletcher much as a
cat watches a momentarily liberated mouse. Then I was surrounded by the
men from the prairie, who insisted on escorting us to our hotel, and when
I asked for Jasper somebody said he had seen him loitering beside one of
the court-house doors. We found him partly hidden by a wagon, watching it
intently.

"Are you getting up another speech, or trying to freeze there?" one of the
Carrington party asked.

"No! I guess I'm laying for that lawyer. Couldn't get at him inside there
for a barrier. Am I a low-grade perjurer--and my friend what he was
working round to show? If you'll stand by for just two minutes I'll
convince the insect--the blamed, vermilion, mosquito!"

"You're too late," said the man from Carrington. "He went out the
other way some time ago. Mr. Lorimer, one or two of us were at
first--appearances were strongly against you, you know--inclined to doubt
you, and we feel considerably ashamed of ourselves. We want you and your
worthy uncle to join us at dinner. Got together the best company we could
to meet you."

It was honestly said, and we accepted with willingness, while I think my
worthy uncle enjoyed himself even more than I did. He was a jealous
insular Briton, and the sight of those sturdy handsome young Englishmen
who well maintained the credit of the old land in the new delighted him.
The appreciation seemed to be mutual. He complained of a headache the next
morning; but that dinner had conferred on the Radical cotton-spinner the
freedom of aristocratic Carrington, and an indefinite but valuable
intimation that the colony had set its special endorsement upon his
nephew.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE ROAD TO DAKOTA

Martin Lorimer returned to Vancouver promptly, for he found the prairie
cold trying, and by-and-by I received a letter from Harry still reporting
profitable work, in which he said: "Your uncle seems to have developed a
craze for real estate. Buying land on a rising town boom is a somewhat
risky amusement, especially if, as they express it he