Drawing Rock aside, Doret put in an earnest plea for his young friend.  The lieutenant answered him with some impatience: 

“I admit it looks fishy, but what is there to do?  The colonel likes Pierce, as we all do, but—­he had no choice.”

“It’s dirty frame-up.”

“I imagine he believes so.  And yet—­how the deuce did that sack get where it was?  I was standing alongside the McCaskeys when Courteau went up to pay his check, and I’m sure they had no part in it.”

“M’sieu’ le Comte is sore,” ’Poleon asserted.  “Me, I savvy plenty.  Wal, how we goin’ get dat boy from out of jail, eh?  By Gar!  I bet I don’ sleep none if I’m lock up.”

“Get bail for him.”

’Poleon was frankly puzzled at this suggestion, but when its nature had been explained his face lit up.

“Ho!  Dat’s nice arrangements, for sure.  Come!  I fix it now.”

“Have you got enough money?”

“I got ‘bout t’irty dollar, but dat ain’t mak’ no differ.  I go to workin’ somewhere.  Me, I’m good for anyt’ing.”

“That won’t do,” Rock smiled.  “You don’t understand.”  Laboriously he made more plain the mysteries of court procedure, whereupon his hearer expressed the frankest astonishment.

“Sacre!” the latter exclaimed.  “What for you say two, free t’ousan’ dollar?  Courteau ‘ain’t lose but six hundred, an’ he’s got it back.  No!  I’m t’inkin’ you Policemans is got good sense, but I lak better a miners’ meetin’.  Us ‘sour-dough’ mak’ better law as dem feller at Ottawa.”

“Morris Best was willing to go his bail,” Rock informed him, “but Miller wouldn’t allow it.  Ben is sore at having the Rialto implicated—­there’s been so much short-weighing going on.  Understand?”

‘Poleon wagged his head in bewilderment.  “I don’ savvy dis new kin’ of law you feller is bring in de country.  S’pose I say, ‘M’sieu’ Jodge, I know dis boy long tam; he don’ steal dat gold.’  De Jodge he say, ‘Doret, how much money you got?  T’ousand dollar?’ I say, ’Sure!  I got ‘bout t’ousand dollar.’  Den he tell me, ’Wal, dat ain’t ‘nough.  Mebbe so you better gimme two t’ousan’ dollar biffore I b’lieve you.’  Bien!  I go down-town an’ win ’noder t’ousan’ on de high card, or mebbe so I stick up some feller, den I come back and m’sieu’ le jodge he say:  ’Dat’s fine!  Now we let Phillips go home.  He don’ steal not’in’.’  Wat I t’ink of dem proceedin’s?  Eh?  I t’ink de jodge is dam’ grafter!”

Rock laughed heartily.  “Don’t let Colonel Cavendish hear you,” he cautioned.  “Seriously now, he’d let Pierce go if he could; he told me so.  He’ll undoubtedly allow him the freedom of the Barracks, so he’ll really be on parole until his trial.”

“Trial?  You goin’ try him again?” The woodsman could make little of the affair.  “If you try him two tam, dose crook is mak’ t’ief of Pierce for sure.  One trial is plenty.  I s’pose mebbe I better kill dem feller off an’ settle dis t’ing.”