and Mr Winter showed no intention of taking her away; but there was nothing sub judice about the cat.  Finnigan, before he sobered up, had let her completely out of the bag.  It was otherwise with the charges that were to be made, according to the Mercury, on the evidence of Chief Joseph Fry and another member of his tribe, to the effect that he and his Conservative friends had been instructed by Squire Ormiston and Mr Murchison to vote on this occasion for both the candidates, thereby producing, when the box was opened, eleven ballot-papers inscribed with two crosses instead of one, and valueless.  Here, should the charges against a distinguished and highly respected Government official fail, as in the opinion of the Express they undoubtedly would fail of substantiation was a big libel case all dressed and ready and looking for the Mercury office.  “Foolish—­foolish,” wrote Mr Williams at the close of his editorial comments.  “Very ill-advised.”

“They’ve made no case so far,” Mr Murchison assured the family.  “I saw Williams on my way up, and he says the evidence of that corner grocery fellow—­what’s his name?—­went all to pieces this morning.  Oliver was in court.  He says one of the judges—­Hooke—­lost his patience altogether.”

“They won’t do anything with the town charges,” Alec said, “and they know it.  They’re saving themselves for Moneida and old man Ormiston.”

“Well, I heartily wish,” said Mrs Murchison, in a tone of grievance with the world at large, and if you were not responsible you might keep out of the way—­“I heartily wish that Lorne had stayed at home that day and not got mixed up with old man Ormiston.”

“They’ll find it pretty hard to fix anything on Lorne,” said Alec.  “But I guess the Squire did go off his head a little.”

“Have they anything more than Indian evidence?” asked Advena.

“We don’t know what they’ve got,” said her brother darkly “and we won’t till Wednesday, when they expect to get round to it.”

“Indian evidence will be a poor dependence in Cruickshank’s hands,” Mr Murchison told them, with a chuckle.  “They say this Chief Joseph Fry is going about complaining that he always got three dollars for one vote before, and this time he expected six for two, and got nothing!”

“Chief Joseph Fry!” exclaimed Alec.  “They make me tired with their Chief Josephs and Chief Henrys!  White Clam Shell—­that was the name he got when he wasn’t christened.”

“That’s the name,” remarked Advena, “that he probably votes under.”

“Well,” said Mrs Murchison, “it was very kind of Squire Ormiston to give Lorne his support, but it seems to me that as far as Moneida is concerned he would have done better alone.”

“No, I guess he wouldn’t, Mother,” said Alec.  “Moneida came right round with the Squire, outside the Reserve.  If it hadn’t been for the majority there we would have lost the election.  The old man worked hard, and Lorne is grateful to him, and so he ought to be.”