He turned to Slavin.  “Sergeant!” he went on:  “I’ll admit I was feeling pretty queer when you were examining that man—­especially about the smelling of drink business.  I’d slipped him a snort of whiskey after you’d gone down to Doctor Cox’s to get those papers signed.  I told him to keep his mouth shut if he was questioned about any horse or man—­and that I’d get him off if he obeyed my instructions.  Of course he didn’t know what all this was for.  He had no opportunity of knowing—­never did know, though I fancy he thought it was a case of horse-stealing.  Anyway, my promises and the drink made him my ally at once.  Only human nature for him to side with me against the Police.  As you know, Sergeant, you can get more definite results from that class of man by a drink bribe than by all the threats and promises in the world.

“My original intention in taking him out to my place was to slip him twenty dollars or so, and head him adrift westward, and so out of things.  But after we got home and I put the proposition up to him, the beggar began to assert himself and get bold and saucy—­tried to blackmail me for an unheard of amount—­threatening he’d go and tell you everything if I didn’t come across, and all that.  Finally I lost my temper with him and gave him a good slap across the face.  He happened to be outside the house bucking wood at the time, and, when I hit him, he came for me with the axe.  I only jumped back just in time, as he struck.  I threw down on him and put him out of business right-away then, realizing I was up against it.”

Gully halted for a space and leaned his head in his hands.  “God!” he muttered presently, “what nights I’ve had!  I’ve killed many men in my time, but those two—­I hated framing up all that business on you fellows next day—­those tracks and the bill-folder, and all that useless chasing for a week, but it seemed to me to be the only plausible bluff I could run on you, under the circumstances.  Now, are there any more things you don’t understand?  Any questions you’d like to ask me?”

“Yes!” queried Slavin.  “How did you get to Calgary that night—­after you’d missed the nine-thirty eastbound.  Jump a freight, or what?  You were seen to get on the train. . . .”

“I know that,” said Gully slowly, “I did it for a blind.  I walked through the coaches and slipped out again at the far end of the platform—­in the dark.  No!  I didn’t jump a freight, Sergeant.  I was tempted to; but on second thoughts the idea made me feel kind of uneasy.  Perhaps you’ll be dubious of this, but, as a fact, I took a ’tie-pass’—­walked it all the way to Calgary on the track.  I was about done when I made Shagnappi Point, beating my passage through all that snow.  I bought a new pair of cow-puncher’s boots while I was in town.  You remember I was wearing them when I returned.  I had the overshoes wrapped up as a parcel and packed them back to the ranch and burnt them—­and Drinkwater’s boots.”