ontinued to issue his orders. "Bafford, ride back
and bring up the baggage. Have my tent pitched in the middle of the
valley below. Emslie"--this was the yellow-haired youth--"I shall hold
you responsible for the white prisoner. You needn't handcuff him. He
couldn't escape if he wished to."

Ambrose had to undergo the humiliation of walking down hill at the
stirrup of the young trooper's horse. Emslie showed a less hard face
than some of the others.

Ambrose sought to establish relations with him by asking for tobacco.
He was hungry for speech with his own kind. But the look of cold
contempt with which his request was granted precluded any further
advances.

Upon Inspector Egerton's return from the Kakisa village a meal was
served. Afterward the inspector sat at his folding-table inside his
tent and held his investigations.

There was a deal of business to be transacted. In due course Ambrose
was brought before him. Watusk, whose services were in continual
demand as interpreter, was present, and several troopers.

"It is customary to ask a prisoner upon arrest if he has anything to
say for himself," said the inspector. "I must warn you that anything
you say may be used against you."

Ambrose felt their animosity like a wall around him. "What's the use?"
he said sullenly. "You've already convicted me in your own mind."

"What I think of your case has nothing to do with it," said the
inspector coldly. "You will be brought before competent judges."

"There is something I want to say," said Ambrose, looking at Watusk.
"But not before that mongrel."

The inspector spoke to a trooper, and Watusk was led outside. "Now,
then!" he said to Ambrose.

"Watusk means to turn king's evidence," said Ambrose. "He will make up
what story he pleases, thinking that none of the Kakisas can testify
except through him--or through Gordon Strange, who is his friend."

"Are you accusing Strange now?" interrupted the inspector. "Let me
tell you: Strange is pretty highly thought of back at the fort."

"No doubt!" said Ambrose with a shrug. "There is one member of the
tribe beside Watusk who can speak English," he went on. "In the
interest of justice I ask you to find her."

"Who is it?"

"Her name is Nesis. She is the youngest of the four wives of Watusk."
Ambrose told her story briefly and baldly.

"So!" said the inspector with a peculiar smile. "According to your own
story you eloped with Watusk's wife. U