Barney stopped and stared at him, his mouth open, eyes bulging. "Where in Heligoland you come from?" he asked. "From Sarnia, Ontario," the red-coat answered. "Glad to meet you, friend. I've been looking for you several days." "For me!" said Barney blankly. "For you--and for that keg of forty-rod you're carrying. No, don't drop it. We can talk more comfortably while both your hands are busy." The constable stepped forward and picked from the ground a rifle. "I've been lying in the brush two hours waiting for you to get separated from this. Didn't want you making any mistakes in your excitement." "Mistakes!" repeated Barney. "Yes. You're under arrest, you know, for whiskey-smuggling." "You're one of these here border police." Barney used the rising inflection in making his statement. "Constable Winthrop Beresford, North-West Mounted, at your service," replied the officer jauntily. He was a trim, well-set-up youth, quick of step and crisp of speech. "What you gonna do with me?" "Take you to Fort Macleod." It was perhaps because his eyes were set at not quite the right angles and because they were so small and wolfish that Barney usually aroused distrust. He suggested now, with an ingratiating whine in his voice, that he would like to see a man at Whoop-Up first. "Jes' a li'l' matter of business," he added by way of explanation. The constable guessed at his business. The man wanted to let his boss know what had taken place and to give him a chance to rescue him if he would. Beresford's duty was to find out who was back of this liquor running. It would be worth while knowing what man Barney wanted to talk with. He could afford to take a chance on the rescue. "Righto," he agreed. "You may put that barrel down now." Barney laid it down, end up. With one sharp drive of the rifle butt the officer broke in the top of the keg, He kicked the barrel over with his foot. This was the moment Morse chose for putting in an appearance. "Hello! What's doin'?" he asked casually. Beresford, cool and quiet, looked straight at him. "I'll ask _you_ that." "Kinda expensive to irrigate the prairie that way, ain't it?" "Doesn't cost me anything. How about you?" Morse laughed at the question fired back at him so promptly. This young man was very much on the job. "Not a bean," the Montanan said. "Good. Then you'll enjoy the little show I'm putting on--five thousand dollars' worth of liquor spilt all at one time." "Holy Moses! Where is this blind tiger you're raidin'?" "Down in the gully. Lucky you happened along just by chance. You'll be able to carry the good news to Whoop-Up and adjacent points." "You're not really aimin' to spill all that whiskey."