promptly. Then he laid himself flat, feeling the cool spongy mosses against the naked parts of his smarting body.
Later, Dick rode back into Grey Wolf on Slicker's pony; and, once the familiar trail was reached,, Grange raced home on his raking bay mare to his work and to Moosta. But where the one man rode with his burnt shoulder stiffening under the singed shirt, and his foot throbbing where the boot-sole was charred off, and where the other man walked, silent and with long light steps, there was little excitement or speech. Slicker raised his head at last.
"I guess you know I hate you," he said bluntly. "Why don't you hate me?"
"Perhaps I recognise that you have the better right, Slicker."
"Well —f you hadn't been such a cur to Jennifer"
"Do you mind if she is hurt or not?"
"Do I mind? Why—she's always been everything to me. She's like a sister and a mother, and she's the best chum—what are you looking like that for?"
"I was appreciating the way in which you have been proving your words lately, Slicker."
Slicker flushed hotly. He trudged on; and presently he said:
"You always were a sneering beast."
"I know. But I do not expend my powers on my neighbours only, I assure you."
"What's a fellow to do?" Slicker spoke sulkily. "I won't go into my uncle's business in Toronto. He's always at me about it—and I won't do it."
"You want to get your neck under some yoke, though I am the last man to preach obedience to you. Why not try our game? It has some elements of interest."
"Go into the Police?" Slicker stopped short with his blue eyes wide.
"Exactly. If you could manage to think while you were moving—thank you. I would rather like to get back to Grey Wolf before dark."
It was long before Slicker spoke again. Then he said:
"Do you advise it?"
"Do I do what? Oh—the Police, you mean? My dear
