ane was quick to notice
signs of regret. He imagined that Clarke had been a person of some
importance among them.

"Tell them I don't want them any more," he said to Emile, and when the
Indians went out he turned to Benson. "Give me all the information you
are able to about the man."

Benson told him as much as he thought judicious, and Lane sat silent
for a while.

"There is no reason to doubt that he came to his death by
misadventure," he decided. "I don't quite understand what led him to
visit these fellows; but, after all, that doesn't count."

"It isn't very plain," Benson replied. "Is there anything else you
wish to know?"

"No," said Lane, looking at him steadily. "You can take it that this
inquiry is closed; we'll pull out the first thing to-morrow." He
beckoned Walthew. "Now that we're here, we may as well find out what
we can about these fellows, and how they live. It will fill up our
report, and they like that kind of information at Regina."

When the police had left the tepee Harding turned to his companions
with a smile.

"Sergeant Lane is a painstaking officer, but his shrewdness has its
limits, and there are points he seems to have missed. It would have
been wiser not to have let Clarke's coat out of his hands until he had
searched it."

"Ah!" Blake exclaimed sharply. "You emptied the pockets?"

"I did. My action was hardly justifiable, perhaps, but I thought it
better that the police shouldn't get on the track of matters that
haven't much bearing on Clarke's death. I found two things, and
they're both of interest to us. We'll take this one first."

He drew out a metal flask, and when he unstoppered it a pungent smell
pervaded the tepee.

"Crude petroleum," he explained. "I should imagine the flash-point is
low. I can't say how Clarke got the stuff when the ground's hard
frozen, but here it is."

"Isn't a low flash-point a disadvantage?" Benson asked. "It must make
the oil explosive."

"It does, but all petroleum's refined, and the by-products they take
off, which includes gasoline, fetch a remarkably good price. Shake a
few drops on the end of a hot log and we'll see how it lights."

A fire burned in a ring of stones in the middle of the tepee, and
Benson carefully did as he was told. Hardly had the oil fallen on the
wood before it burst into flame.

"As I thought!" exclaimed Harding. "I suspect the presence of one or
two distillates that should be worth as much a