CHAPTER XXV.

GRIP OF THE LAW.

Ten o'clock was the hour set down in the articles of agreement for the running of the challenge race, and Major MacDonald himself had arranged for the use of the Strathconna track at that time. The exposition authorities were glad to grant the favor to one who had supported that institution so generously in its early days, when such assistance was badly needed. Two of the judges and the regular starter had consented to serve, eager to take part in anything in which the pioneer, who had done so much for the province, was interested.

With none of these arrangements had MacDonald interfered since his return with Mrs. Andress and Fitzrapp from the Rafter A with the knowledge that Canada had been stolen. It was his idea that they should appear at the track just as though nothing had happened and take no steps that might alarm Childress, in case he was foolhardy enough to attempt to save his thousand and claim Fitzrapp's forfeit.

Accordingly, at half-past nine on the appointed morning, a touring car drew up at the gates, carrying the pioneer, the widow and Fitzrapp in the tonneau, and a stranger in a brown suit and gray derby on the seat beside the chauffeur. The little party went directly to the green before the grandstand, where they were joined shortly by the officials whose services had been requested.

Although the great open-faced stand was practically deserted, there was plenty of life and movement in its immediate vicinity. Next morning the fair would be thrown open to the public, so that the last hour preparations were being rushed. Refreshment tents and canvas catchpenny booths were in process of erection or receiving their finishing touches. Tardy exhibits were being brought to their proper buildings, and an unending stream of blooded cattle and thoroughbred horses passed on toward the stables. On the broad track itself a force of ground keepers were at work, although the great circle already seemed to have attained the proverbial smoothness of a ballroom floor.

"I've an idea that we brought you gentlemen out this morning under false pretenses," MacDonald was saying to the officials. "I'm afraid that one of the horses will not appear and that the challenge will have to go unsettled."

"Always sorry to miss a close match race, Major," returned the starter; "but don't let that worry----" He broke off abruptly and stared toward the paddock gate. "Good heavens! Will you look at that magnificent horse!"

The others turned to see Jack Childress approaching. Behind him strode the silver stallion, and still farther in the rear trailed Mahaffy, burdened with a cow saddle.

Admiring exclamations sprang from several lips, Mrs. Andress' and the major's among them, for although they were acquainted with the fine points of Silver, they never had seen him so finely groomed. Fitzrapp's glance of recognition had brought a start of surprise, for he had confidently expected that Childress would fail to accept this last daring chance. Evidently the man's boldness knew no limits.

As he drew near the owner of the one-section ranch waved a greeting to the men and took off his hat to the widow, who was the only woman in the immediate party. Mrs. Andress had been asked by her uncle not to precipitate matters by showing a changed manner toward the suspect in case he did appear. She forced a smile to accompany her bow; then quickly looked away.

"Well, Fitzrapp, I'm on deck, you see," said Childress, addressing his rival. "Not so good getting back from Montana, but I'm here, and, thanks to Mahaffy's care, Silver is ready to give your beast the run of his life. Suppose you call up your horse, and we'll get ready for the starter's gun."

"You know very well that you----"

The outburst from Fitzrapp was interrupted when the heavy hand of the major fell upon his shoulder.

"Through circumstances beyond his control," the pioneer interposed, "Mr. Fitzrapp's horse, Canada, is not available for racing to-day. As stakeholder, I'm ready to hear your desire regarding the purse to which you both contributed."

The look on Childress' face was so akin to genuine surprise that Ethel Andress had difficulty in disbelieving it, although she knew it could not be real. "He adds fine acting to his many other accomplishments," she reflected bitterly. "What a pity he couldn't have been a real man."

"Circumstances beyond his control, eh?" repeated Childress. "Well, now, that's sure too bad. Silver and I don't want any runaway money, do we, boy?" He stroked the stallion's satiny neck meditatively. "Tell you what I'll do; I've got another horse down in the paddock that looks as if he'd be a fit match for the silver one here. I'll lend him to Fitzrapp, and we'll have a race anyway, so long as we're all here."

"Rediculous!" cried the Rafter A manager. "Race against a man with his own horse! Who ever heard of such a thing?"

The other horsemen smiled at the odd proposal.

"Wait until you've seen the horse before you decide," urged Childress. "He sure looks like a winner, and I feel this morning as if nothing but a horse race would satisfy my appetite. Running Silver against time isn't ever going to do it."

He turned to the little Irishman. "Mahaffy, suppose you go back to the stable and bring up my new horse."

While they waited, he entered unconcernedly into the conversation, which was centered upon the fine points of the silver beast. Looking at him and listening to him, the widow could not comprehend how he managed to maintain such poise, considering the strain under which he must be laboring. Nor could she see by what possible expedient he hoped to carry off his effrontery.

Standing a little to one side of the group about the stallion, she was the first to sight the horse which Mahaffy was leading from the paddock. For a moment she stared in silence; then an amazed cry sprang from her lips.

"Look, Tom! Look! There's Canada. The man's bringing on your stolen horse!"

They all turned and saw that the wrangler was advancing with a horse they knew--Canada, the prize-winning black stallion that Thomas Fitzrapp had exhibited so often.

An imprecation burst from Fitzrapp's lips. Then he sprang toward the horse. The black recognized him with a delighted whinny, and nosed him when he came within reach. There was no doubt that an affection existed between man and beast. Tears gushed into Fitzrapp's eyes, and as for Canada, had there been any question of original ownership, his behavior would have settled it in the manager's favor in the decision of any unbiased jury.

"Told you to wait until you'd seen the horse," said Childress with a chuckle. "This was my little surprise party. Now we can have an honest-to-goodness race according to agreement."

"How comes it that you bring up Mr. Fitzrapp's mount?" asked the most imposing of the race judges, giving Childress a look of open suspicion.

"Because circumstances beyond his control prevented him from bringing up the beast himself," returned the imperturbable owner of the Open A.

The thought that Childress must have lost his mind rushed into Ethel's brain, and she pitied him. There seemed no other reasonable explanation for this piling of folly upon folly.

A look from the major moved Fitzrapp to speech. "Gentlemen, this horse was stolen from me, and from the first I suspected that Childress was concerned in the theft. Why he brought the animal here is unexplainable, but does not concern us. Officer, you had better take him in charge."

The big man in the gray derby stepped forward importantly and laid a hand on Childress' shoulder. The latter made no effort to throw off the clutch, nor did he protest when the official ran his hands over his body in search of weapons.

"What's all this about?" he inquired, a puzzled expression on his face.

"You're under arrest; that's what it is about," said the policeman. "Here's the warrant if you want to read it."

Childress took the paper, and scanned it rapidly.

"Looks regular enough," he remarked, slipping the warrant into his coat pocket. "So we aren't going to have a race--after all the trouble I've been put to?"

"Not to-day," returned the officer with a grin. "Not so's you'd notice the dust."

There seemed to awaken in Childress a sudden realization of his position. He jerked out the warrant and read it more carefully.

"Is this jolly little document based upon anything more stable than the information and belief of Mr. Thomas Fitzrapp, of Strathconna, the Rafter A Ranch and _elsewhere_?" he asked.

A thread of defiance in his tone caused Ethel Andress again to look at him searchingly. It seemed impossible that he could be what circumstances proved him to be.

"The warrant has substantial basis," said Maj. MacDonald. "Here for instance is a memorandum book, purporting to be the property of one Jack Childress. It is filled with rustling data and was picked up in the track of the last raid upon our stock."

Childress bowed recognition of the book. "I'll be glad to get you back, old stand-by, when the court is through with you. I dropped you that day I rode to the Rafter A to sign the terms of today's race. Fitzrapp must have picked you up and neglected to return you." He turned to the local officer. "Will you be kind enough to come over to the stables until we put up the horses and I get out of these riding clothes."

"I'll put an officer on guard of the horses," said the policeman as they walked off toward the stables.

None paid any attention to a gestured signal which Childress threw toward the grandstand. There it was picked up and understood by a slender little woman in a blue twill dress and dark mushroom hat. She left the seat which she had occupied alone and approached the group that waited beneath the starter's stand.

Ten minutes passed when came the return from the stables, a return that added to the day's total of surprises. The two who accompanied the local officer wore the brilliant parade uniforms of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police--Childress with the trappings of a staff-sergeant, Mahaffy in the plainer suit of a trooper. Heavy revolvers bristled in ominous black from the hip holsters of each. They strode with the swank of long service, and the local policeman seemed entirely satisfied to toddle along in the rear.

The eyes of all the waiting group were opened wide with surprise, all eyes except the blue ones of Bernice Gallegher, otherwise Flame of Fire Weed.

"No need of further delay," said Sergt. Childress with authority. "Do your duty, Constable Mahaffy."

The veteran constable was so glad to be back in uniform after long service in ranch-hand disguise that he threw unusual feeling into the form of arrest and warning of Thomas Fitzrapp on the charge of horse stealing from the Rafter A and other ranches.

Ethel Andress and her uncle, after a moment of startled silence, turned accusing gaze on their trusted employee. For the moment Fitzrapp seemed stunned by the sudden turn which the case had taken.

"Come, Fitzrapp," said the sergeant in a tone that was persuasive, even though it did not lack in firmness, "you've run your course, and you might as well give up. You sold Canada to Dick Allen in Missoula, and it's one of the few honest sales you ever made. I bought him from Allen and have his bill-of-sale. I have proof that you are the head of the rustling band which has been ravishing the Fire Weed country. Indeed, except for a few miserable tools, you are the whole band. I suppose you thought you needed the dirty money to make good on your suit for the hand of your employer."

Mrs. Andress was turning away when first she noticed the presence of the Gallegher girl. Flame, in full womanly sympathy, sprang to her side to offer comfort.

"Just think what he's saved me from," murmured the widow.

"Yes, and isn't he just--just wonderful!" enthused Sam Gallegher's "firecracker."

"Come across clean, Fitzrapp," Childress was urging. "It will be the better for you. From the moment I had Canada brought out on the track this morning, you must have known that I was sure of my ground."

With a stubborn spirit that had always stood out in his character, Fitzrapp kept his lips closed and his eyes on the ground.

"It looks as though I'd have to send for an interesting witness I've held in reserve down at the hotel," Childress resumed. "I have in mind one Duncan O'Hara, formerly head buster on the Rafter A, the man who brought me word of Canada's new owner. If it had not been for him we might still be beating about the range seeking definite proof of Fitzrapp's duplicity. As it is, we've filled a royal flush."

At last the range manager broke under the weight of evidence. "You won't need O'Hara," he said slowly, a bitter note, which he was unable to banish, creeping into his tone. "If he's double-crossed me, there's no use trying to fight. My hand is all played out."

"Take him to the city prison, Mahaffy," ordered Childress. "I've got to go down to the court house and clear this warrant off the boards."

When the constable and his prisoner had entered a taxi and driven out of the exposition grounds, the sergeant turned to the widow.

"Although you two women never have met, you seem to have found some bond in common," he said with a whimsical grin. "Permit me to present Mrs. John Childress, so new to the part that she'd probably stumble if you'd asked her to name her real name."

"Ah, my hearty congratulations to you both," said the gallant old major effusively.

"A romance of the Fire Weed," murmured Ethel Andress, and embraced the fair neighbor. "When did it happen, my dear?"

"If by it you mean when we were married--that was yesterday afternoon when we rode in from the ranch," said Flame, flaunting furious blushes. "But it wasn't exactly a romance of our Fire Weed range. Seems to me it was all settled one stormy afternoon in Crow's Nest of all places. At least we were certain when we succeeded in riding out through a hail of outlaw lead."

"It's fine to have married into the Royal," said the widow, any past interest she may have had in the enigma of the Open A forgot.

"Jack never told me that he was a Mountie," said the colorful bride, her freckled eyes more alive than usual. "Thanks to a moonlight meeting on a night that was touch-and-go with tragedy, I knew from the first. As long as he was in mufti I pretended blind ignorance. But just because he didn't confide in me, I think I'll marry him out of the Service. We need him down on the range."

"That will be a loss to the service," began the major, "but--"

"But we're trained to obey our superior officers," Childress cut in. "As soon as this case is cleaned, I reckon Ottawa will have a chance to weep over my resignation. I've an idea that I'll complete that cabin, begun as a subterfuge, and even build a dog-house for Poison. Just perhaps I'll come to enjoy ranching in Fire Weed with the Flame thereof."

"You better had--enjoy it!"

Mrs. John Childress blazed the last word.

THE END.