'Shall I Throw Out My Bed,' He Asked.

Philip could not repress a grim chuckle as he rolled up his blankets. What a report he would have for the department if he lived to ake it on paper. The words were scarcely out of his mouth when philip's revolver flew through the opening and dropped in the snow. He was making a tremendous effort to appear cheerful, but he could not forget that last night he had shot at bram. In the same thick, guttural voice which he used in his half breed patois, he demanded, why you shoot last night?

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