"Ahoy, in there, git out o' that cabin! That's our'n."
Connie laughed. "Come and get it then!" he invited. "Just help yourselves to anything around the place. Don't mind me."
"Who be ye?" roared the man.
"Special Constable Morgan of the Royal North-west Mounted Police," answered Connie, cheerfully.
"You got our grub in there!"
"Oh, is this yours?" asked the boy. "Where did you get it?"
The man turned to his companions and a long argument ensued. Once more he advanced and stopped.
"Say, w'at ye goin' to do 'bout it?"
"Do about what?" tantalized Connie.
"'Bout our grub!" roared the man. "Ye can't take folks' grub 'way from 'em no matter who ye be."
"Can't I?"
"Say, look-a here," continued the man, "ef ye ain't got grub 'nough we'll let ye ship 'nough to take ye w'ere ye're goin' to, an' that's fair."
"Oh, I've got grub enough. I've got enough to
