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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

"Corporal Cameron of the North West Mounted Police; a tale of the Macleod trail"

Cameron is going away."
"To-morrow? So it is. And you will be very sorry, Rob. But, of course,
he will come back."
"Oh, Dad," cried Rob, coming quite close to his father, "it isn't that!
It isn't that!"
His father waited. He did not understand his boy's trouble, and so he
wisely refrained from uttering word that might hinder rather than help.
At length, with a sudden effort, Rob asked in a low, hurried voice:
"Do you think, Dad, he has--got--back?"
"Got back?" said his father. "Oh, I see. Why, my boy? What do you know
of it? Did you know there was a letter from a man named Potts, that
completely clears your friend of all crime?"
"Is there?" asked the boy quickly. "Man! That is fine! But I always knew
he could not do anything really bad--I mean, anything that the police
could touch him for. But it is not that, Dad. I have heard Jack say he
used to be different when he came down first, and now sometimes he--"
The lad's voice fell silent. He could not bring himself to accuse his
hero of any evil. His father drew him close to his side.
"You mean that he has fallen into bad ways--drink, and things like
that?"
The boy hung his head; he was keenly ashamed for his friend. After a few
moments' silence he said:
"And he is going away to Canada to-morrow, and I wonder, Dad, if he
has--got--back? It would be terrible--Oh, Dad, all alone and away
from--!"
The boy's voice sank to a whisper, and a rush of tears filled his eyes.


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