Read Ebook: The Rambler Club with the Northwest Mounted by Sheppard W Crispin William Crispin

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 2026 lines and 50715 words, and 41 pages

The half-breed grunted a monosyllable.

"Since Jed Warren's unaccountable disappearance," went on the sergeant, "I am more particular than ever to look over every one who passes this way."

"You take lantern then, I s'pose?" said Teddy Banes, a touch of sarcasm in his tone.

The sergeant laughed dryly.

"Quite good, Banes," he said. "Ah! Did you hear that?"

"Certain I hear him," answered the half-breed.

"I reckon you are right, Banes. They seem to be headed this way. From the prairie these barracks must shine like a constellation."

"Nobody could miss him but one who wants to," remarked Teddy, sagely.

"I'm still hoping Jed Warren may be among that party."

"No--no!"

"What makes you so confounded sure about it, Banes? Why in thunder do you always insist he's a deserter?"

"Why?" echoed Teddy, sharply. "How many times you say same thing?"

"Well, suppose I have? I won't believe it until it's proved. Guess it isn't necessary to saddle up, Banes. That bunch out there is coming nearer every minute."

The sound of voices was certainly growing louder, while occasionally the hoof-beats of horses easily overcame the whisperings and sighings of nature.

For a long time no visitors had been at the post. Now and again a ranch owner or some of his men stopped in to while away a few hours at the barracks; and all received a generous welcome at the lonely outpost station, where the police sometimes grew tired of always seeing only one another's faces.

Within a short time the noise made by the advancing riders grew to such proportions that several troopers hurried out of the mess room to join their commanding officer. And the rays of light which flashed across their forms showed them to be strong, athletic-looking chaps who carried themselves as erect as any soldiers in the Dominion.

It was quite evident that all were full of curiosity, even eagerness, to let their eyes rest upon the newcomers; and the steady progress with which the latter were now approaching made it quite certain that their wishes would soon be gratified.

"It sounds like a pretty big crowd," remarked Trooper Farr to Jack Stanford.

"'Tain't often around here that so many's travelin' together."

"Maybe they're from Cummin's ranch, to tell us the cattle rustlers have done a couple more jobs," said Stanford.

"Or perhaps Jed Warren has rounded up that band of smugglers he was after an' is bringin' 'em in single-handed," laughed Phil Cole.

Several minutes passed while the men busily conjectured and theorized. Then, from out of the shadows, there appeared a number of dusky patches so blended and lost in the surrounding darkness that only the sharpest eyes could have detected the forms of horses and riders.

"Stanford," commanded Sergeant Erskine, "go back to the mess room, get a lantern and hurry down to the gate. Those chaps are going to miss it by more than a few yards; and we won't ask 'em to hurdle over the fence."

"If Stanford isn't quick they may ride into it and bump their noses," said Cole, pleasantly.

Stanford was quick, however. He almost immediately returned with a lighted lantern, which sent curious streaks and dashes of yellow rays darting in all directions, then, followed by Trooper Farr, walked rapidly toward the gate.

Sergeant Erskine and the others waited and watched with the keenest interest.

Suddenly they heard a loud hail from the distance and an answering salutation from Stanford.

It was quite the most unusual event which had happened at the post for several months; and those standing close to the barracks experienced a feeling of satisfaction when they heard the gate beginning to creak.

And now from the direction of the swinging lantern came the sound of clear, lusty voices, with the heavier tones of Stanford and Farr joining in.

It soon became evident from bits of conversation which were carried crisply over the air that the visitors had not stumbled accidentally upon police headquarters. Even Sergeant Erskine, whose stern exterior seldom reflected emotion of any sort, felt a rather curious thrill when he heard Jed Warren's name pronounced by various voices.

"Ah, Banes, I reckon we're going to have some news from him after all," he remarked.

The half-breed made no answer. All the intensity of his small black eyes was fixed in the direction of the gate, where the body of horsemen were now filing in. On they came, galloping across the grounds with an abandon that showed them to be skilful riders.

An instant later the friendly lights of the barracks plucked forms and faces from the obscurity. And even Sergeant Erskine allowed a slight gasp of surprise to escape him when he noted that the travelers, instead of being the troop of hardy men he had expected to see, were but a healthy-looking lot of lads.

"WHERE IS JED WARREN?"

"Is Sergeant Erskine of the Royal Mounted Police here?"

All the boys had swung from the saddle, and one of their number, advancing toward the grinning and astonished members of the police, had asked the question.

"Great Scott!" murmured Cole. "What does this mean?--a lot o' kids!"

"I am Sergeant Erskine," answered the officer. His eyes ran over his questioner, taking in every detail of the well-set, sturdy figure which stood before him. "Who are you, and where do you come from?"

A very tall lad, looming up behind the first speaker, took it upon himself to answer.

"We're the Rambler Club of Wisconsin," he said, in a tone which seemed to indicate that he felt this announcement ought to create an enormous sensation.

"The Rambler Club of Wisconsin!" exclaimed Sergeant Erskine, while several loud guffaws came from his men. "Who are they?"

"Bob Somers!" interrupted Sergeant Erskine. "Well--a light breaks in upon me, as the fellow in the only play I ever saw remarked. If I haven't heard Jed Warren mention your name about fifty times I won't take the next furlough that's coming to me."

"What's this we hear about Jed Warren having disappeared?" demanded the tall lad, abruptly.

"Yes, I know all about you chaps now," said Erskine, without heeding this remark. "You boys exchanged a lot of letters with Jed. He told me he'd asked you to come out."

"And we're here," said the tall member of the group.

"Said you could have lots of fun in the Northwest Territories camping out, hobnobbing with an occasional policeman or ranch owner."

"And perhaps incidentally rounding up a bunch of smugglers or cattle rustlers," snickered Farr.

"Hey?" said the big boy, quite fiercely.

"Well, Ramblers," continued the sergeant, "I'm sorry you came all this way to meet with disappointment. Your friend is not here, and we don't know when he will be."

A chorus of remarks and questions which immediately began to flow from the lads was cut short by a wave of Sergeant Erskine's big hand.

"Easy, boys, easy," he counseled. Then, turning to Farr, he asked: "Who's on stable duty to-night?"

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet