face was expressionless. McMillan became impatient. “You'd better tell me,” he warned. “The Indian,” Chew said slowly, “was Moses Paul.” Suspect AN ExPpERT MARKSMAN Moses Paul! McMillan recalled the fel- low; a quiet inoffensive person who had grown up in the neighbourhood. He was about 25 years old and until now had never been known to enter into anything that could be termed questionable. So far as his LADIES’ AND MEN'S SUITS TO MEASURE BRYAN’S TAILOR SHOP CLEANING and PRESSING e WILLIAMS LAKE, B.C. BOYDE’S HOTEL Rooms and Cate e FULLY LICENSED WILLIAMS LAKE, B.C. WITH COMPLIMENTS C. H. DODWELL & CO. (R. Beauchamp) NOTARY PUBLIC INSURANCE REAL ESTATE WILLIAMS LAKE, B.C. Licensed Premises Cariboo Trophies "In the Heart of the Cariboo” MAPLE LEAF HOTEL . MRS. L. A. MOXON, Proprietor Comfortable Rooms Cafe in Connection Newly Decorated Throughout WILLIAMS LAKE, B.C. | T. J. HODGSON Mail - Freight - Stage Line WILLIAMS LAKE, B.C. HUSTON’S GARAGE Hugh Parke and Jack Lepinski, Proprietors GENERAL MOTORS DEALERS SHELL PRODUCTS Complete Automotive Service WILLIAMS LAKE, B. C. Page Sixty-eight accomplishments were concerned he had only one. It was, in view of later events, a fearful one. He was an unerring rifle shot. Though reluctant to accept the fact that Moses Paul seemed to be the logical suspect, Constable McMillan set about locating him. It was a few days later at the coroner’s in- quest when the jury brought in the usual verdict of “death at the hands of a person or persons unknown,” that Moses Paul was named in the verdict and recommended to be brought in for questioning. Paul’s cabin was an ordinary affair of logs. The Indian made no demur when Constable McMillan began to search the little dwelling. He had nothing to say when the police officer told him he must answer the questions dir- ected at him and explain his actions on the day when Whyte was murdered. He main- tained a stoical silence which caused McMill- an to think that perhaps there was little he could tell. Though circumstances were against him it was entirely possible that Paul had nothing to do with the murder. Nothing incriminating was found in the lower half of the cabin. McMillan climbed up into the little attic. In less than five minutes he found evidence that caused him to revise his previous ideas. For there, hid- den in the rafters, he found several trinkets and a watch that was easily recognised as having belonged to Whyte. There could be little doubt now about Paul’s guilt, or at least guilty knowledge of the murder. McMillan took the evidence with him and locked the Indian up in the tiny goal to await his preliminary hearing. The hot July month wore on. McMillan had completed the many duties attached to the stern business of locating witnesses and evidence for presentation at such a serious trial. He now had a few days to spare before the trial and thought it would be a good time for him to get his haying done. He was on this job at a small meadow near the foot of Dan Smith’s hill, about half a- mile from the goal, when the second act of this powerful drama was unfolded. McMillan didn’t see the opening scene. Little 5-year-old Eva Barton did. She hur- ried into her house, breathless. “Oh mummy,” she exclaimed. “I just saw Moses Paul running up the gully. He was running all stooped over, like he didn’t want anybody to see him!” “Nonsense,” Mrs. Barton reproved, “he is locked up in goal.” “But I did see him, mummy,” the child insisted. “I saw him running along the gully just now.” Mrs. Barton tried to assure the child that she was mistaken. But little Eva would not be assured. She insisted that she had seen Moses Paul and nothing could shake her story. It was possible, Mrs. Barton thought, that Paul might have escaped from his cell. She walked across to a window and looked towards the goal. She could see a stockade at least twelve feet high surrounding the cell block. Surely the Indian couldn’t scale this. The idea was ludicrous. She continued with her household tasks. But it was not so ludicrous to Constable McMillan when he returned from the mead- ows and took Paul’s supper to the cell. He saw, not his prisoner awaiting supper, but an empty cell! The Indian had escaped by using a file which, McMillan learned, had been smuggled in to him in a piece of smoked salmon. Even then the constable did not suspect that here was a situation fraught with such potential tragedy. An Indian had escaped and would soon be recaptured. That was all. McMillan began making inquiries. He learned that Paul Spintlum, a triend of Moses Paul, had purchased a large amount of rifle ammunition and groceries at Bob Fraser’s general store. Why, McMillan asked himself, should Spintlum suddenly require ammunition and supplies? The answer was obvious. He was aiding Moses Paul to escape. The thing to do now, the constable reasoned, was to locate Spintlum. A few miles up the creek, along which Paul had been last seen by little Eva Barton, McMillan came across Spintlum. He charged him with assisting Moses Paul. ‘Vhe Indian hotly denied this and said that he had not seen Paul. Yet McMillan was willing to swear that the fugitive was only a few yards away hidden in the bush and probably cover- ing him, McMillan, with a rifle. He grasped Spintlum’s arm. “You had better get Paul back to the goal before ten o’clock this morning or I'll lock you up too,” he snapped. This, in the opinion of those who knew Indians, had exactly the opposite effect of that desired by McMillan. It fired Spint- lum’s hate of the law. He snarled, then jerked himself savagely away from the con- stable as he spat a stream of vituperation at him and the police force and law in general. Before McMillan had a chance to do any- thing about it, Spintlum broke away and dashed into the woods. Realising that he would only be wasting time in pursuit, Mc- Millan returned to Clinton. It was now clear that Spintlum had indeed aided in the escape. The first pursuit of the two outlaws was a failure. They seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth. Inquiries as to their possible whereabouts brought no re- ENGEMAN’S GARAGE CENTRAL MOTORS Shell Products International Trucks Ford Dealer Clinton, British Columbia BOYD'S GARAGE Dodge, Plymouth Sales & Service ROAD SERVICE =-:- e CLINTON, B.C. TOWING THE SHOULDER STRAP