“No one has gulled me, John.  You shall hear the story for yourself as soon as the police arrive.  You will the better be able to judge of the fellow’s sincerity.”

At this moment the sound of horses’ hoofs came in through the open window.  Lablache glanced out on to the veranda.

“Ah, here he is, and I’m glad to see they’ve sent Sergeant Horrocks.  The very man for the work.  Good,” and he rubbed his fat hands together.  “Horrocks is a great prairie man.”

“Poker” John rose and went out to meet the officer.  Later he conducted him into the office.  Sergeant Horrocks was a man of medium height, slightly built, but with an air of cat-like agility about him.  He was very bronzed, with a sharp, rather than a clever face.  His eyes were black and restless, and a thin mouth, hidden beneath a trim black mustache, and a perfectly-shaped aquiline nose, completed the sum of any features which might be called distinctive.  He was a man who was thoroughly adapted to his work—­work which needed a cool head and quick eye rather than great mental attainments.  He was dressed in a brown canvas tunic with brass buttons, and his riding breeches were concealed in, a pair of well-worn leather “chaps.”  A Stetson hat worn at the exact angle on his head, with his official “side arms” secured round his waist, completed a very picturesque appearance.

“Morning, Horrocks,” said the money-lender.  “This is a pretty business you’ve come down on.  Left your men down in the settlement, eh?”

“Yes.  I thought I’d come and hear the rights of the matter straight away.  According to your message you are the chief victim of this ‘duffing’ business?”

“Exactly,” replied Lablache, with a return to his tone of anger, “one thousand head of beeves!  Thirty-five thousand dollars’ worth!” Then he went on more calmly:  “But wait a moment, we’ll send down for the ‘hand’ that brought in the news.”

A servant was despatched, and a few minutes later Jim Bowley entered.  Jacky, returning from the corrals, entered at the same time.  Directly she had seen the police horse outside she knew what was happening.  When she appeared Lablache endeavored to conceal a look of annoyance.  Sergeant Horrocks raised his eyebrows in surprise.  He was not accustomed to petticoats being present at his councils.  John, however, without motive, waived all chance of objection by anticipating his guests.

“Sergeant, this is my niece, Jacky.  Affairs of the prairie affect her as nearly as they do myself.  Let us hear what this man has to tell us.”

Horrocks half bowed to the girl, touching the brim of his hat with a semi-military salute.  Acquiescence to her presence was thus forced upon him.

Jacky looked radiant in spite of the uncouthness of her riding attire.  The fresh morning air was the tonic she loved, and, as yet, the day was too young for the tired shadows to have crept into her beautiful face.  Horrocks, in spite of his tacit objection, was forced to admire the sturdy young face of this child of the prairie.