“Behould our counthry eshtate!” said Sergeant Slavin grandiloquently, with an airy wave of his arm, “beyant that big pile av shtones on th’ road-allowance.”

He chirped to his team which broke into an even, fast trot, and presently they drew up outside a building typical in its outside appearance of the usual range Mounted Police detachment.  It was a fairly large dwelling, roughly but substantially-built of squared logs, painted in customary fashion, with the walls—­white, and the shingled roof—­red.  A strongly-guyed flagstaff jutting out from one gable, and copies of the “Game” and “Fire Acts” tacked on the door gave the abode an unmistakable official aspect.  Over the doorway was nailed a huge, prehistoric-looking buffalo-skull, bleached white with the years—­the time-honoured insignia of the R.N.W.M.P. being a buffalo-head, which is also stamped on the regimental badge and button.

Dumping off the kit-bags, the two men drove round to the stable in the rear of the main dwelling, where they unhitched and put up the team.  The sergeant led the way into the house.  Passing through a small store-house and kitchen they emerged into the living room.  On a miniature scale it was a replica of one of the Post barrack-rooms, except that the table boasted a tartan-rugged covering, that two or three easy chairs were scattered around, and some calfskin mats partially covered the painted hardwood floor.  The walls, for the most part were adorned with many unframed copies of pictures from the brush of that great Western artist, Charles Russell, and black and white sketches cut from various illustrated papers.  Three corners of the room contained cots, one of which the sergeant assigned to Redmond.  The room, with its big stove, in a way looked comfortable enough, and was regimentally neat and clean and homelike.

George peered into the front room beyond which bore quite a judicial aspect.  At one end of it a small dais supported a severe-looking arm-chair and a long flat desk, on which were piled foolscap, blank legal forms, law-books, and the Bible.  In front was a long, form-like bench, with a back to it.  At the rear of the room were two strongly-built cells, with barred doors.  Around the walls were scattered a double row of small chairs and, on a big, green-baize-covered board next the cells hung a brightly burnished assortment of handcuffs and leg-irons.

“’Tis here we hould coort,” Slavin informed him, “whin we have any shtiffs tu be thried.”

Opening the front door George lugged in his bedding and kit-bags and, depositing them on his cot, flung off his fur coat, cap, and serge.  Slavin divested himself likewise and, as the burly, bull-necked man stood there, slowly filling his pipe, Redmond was able to scan the face and massive proportions of his superior more closely.