Winston of the Prairie | Page 8

charge
on me, and he will have several of his troopers looking out for me.
Well, I want one of them to see and follow me south along the Montana
trail. There's no horse in the Government service can keep pace with

that black of mine, but it would not be difficult to pull him and just
keep the trooper out of carbine-shot behind. When he finds he can't
overtake the black, he'll go off for his comrades, and the boys will run
our goods across the river while they're picking up the trail."
"You mentioned the horse, but not yourself," said Winston quietly.
Courthorne laughed. "Yes," he said. "I will not be there. I'm offering
you one hundred dollars to ride the black for me. You can put my furs
on, and anybody who saw you and knew the horse would certify it was
me."
"And where will you be?"
"Here," said Courthorne dryly. "The boys will have no use for me until
they want a guide, but they'll leave an unloaded pack horse handy, and,
as it wouldn't suit any of us to make my connection with them too plain,
it will be a night or two later when I join them. In the meanwhile your
part's quite easy. No trooper could ride you down unless you wanted
him to, and you'll ride straight on to Montana--I've a route marked out
for you. You'll stop at the places I tell you, and the testimony of
anybody who saw you on the black would be quite enough to clear me
if Stimson's men are too eleven for the boys."
Winston sat still a moment, and it was not avarice which prompted him
when he said, "Considering the risk one hundred dollars is very little."
"Of course," said Courthorne. "Still, it isn't worth any more to me, and
there will be your expenses. If it doesn't suit you, I will do the thing
myself and find the boys another guide."
He spoke indifferently, but Winston was not a fool, and knew that he
was lying.
"Turn your face to the light," he said sharply.
A little ominous glint became visible in Courthorne's eyes, and there
was just a trace of darker color in his forehead, but Winston saw it and

was not astonished. Still, Courthorne did not move.
"What made you ask me that?" he said.
Winston watched him closely, but his voice betrayed no special interest
as he said, "I fancied I saw a mark across your cheek. It seemed to me
that it had been made by a whip."
The deeper tint was more visible on Courthorne's forehead, where the
swollen veins showed a trifle, and he appeared to swallow something
before he spoke. "Aren't you asking too many questions? What has a
mark on my face to do with you?"
"Nothing," said Winston quietly. "Will you go through the conditions
again?"
Courthorne nodded. "I pay you one hundred dollars--now," he said.
"You ride south to-morrow along the Montana trail and take the risk of
the troopers overtaking you. You will remain away a fortnight at my
expense, and pass in the meanwhile for me. Then you will return at
night as rancher Winston, and keep the whole thing a secret from
everybody."
Winston sat silent and very still again for more than a minute. He
surmised that the man who made the offer had not told him all and
there was more behind, but that was, after all, of no great importance.
He was prepared to do a good deal for one hundred dollars, and his bare
life of effort and self-denial had grown almost unendurable. He had
now nothing to lose, and while some impulse urged him to the venture,
he felt that it was possible fate had in store for him something better
than he had known in the past. In the meanwhile the cigar he held went
out, and the striking of a match as Courthorne lighted another roused
him suddenly from the retrospect he was sinking into. The bitter wind
still moaned about the ranch, emphasizing its loneliness, and the cedar
shingles rattled dolefully overhead, while it chanced that as Winston
glanced towards the roof his eyes rested on the suspended piece of
rancid pork which, with a little flour and a few potatoes, had during the
last few months provided him with sustenance. It was of course a trifle,

but it tipped the beam, as trifles often do, and the man who was tired of
all it symbolized straightened himself with a little mirthless laugh.
"On your word of honor there is nothing beyond the risk of a few days'
detention which can affect me?" he said.
"No," said Courthorne solemnly, knowing that he lied. "On my honor.
The troopers could only question you. Is