on the floor, his hands out before him. Drennen
stood over him, breathing deeply, gathering his strength for a last
effort. George staggered perceptibly as he got to his feet, a queer
look in his eyes. Drennen struck swiftly, his fist grinding into the
pit of Kootanie's stomach and, as the big man crumpled, finding his
chin again. And as George staggered a second time Drennen was upon
him, Drennen's laugh like the snarl of a wolf, Drennen's hand, the
right this time, at George's throat. . . .

A thin scream from Ernestine Dumont quivering with a strange blend of
emotions, a spit of flame, a puff of smoke hanging idly in the still
air of the room, the sharp bark of a small calibre revolver, and
Drennen's hand dropped from Kootanie's throat. He swayed unsteadily a
moment, stepped toward her, his eyes flecked with red and brimming with
rage, his hand going to the wound in his side.

"Cat," said Drennen deliberately.

As he fell back, a sudden weakness upon him, settling unsteadily into a
chair, Ramon Garcia struck up the barrel of the smoking gun in
Ernestine's hand and the second bullet ripped into the papered ceiling.
Then Kootanie George turned slowly, his eyes full upon Ernestine's, and
said as Drennen had said it,

"Cat!"

"You are one big brute!" cried Mere Jeanne angrily. "You, to call her
that when she shoot because she love you! I should do like that for
Marquette here."

"She has put me to shame, made me a man for men to laugh at," said
George heavily. "What, am I no man but a little baby that a woman must
fight my fight? I am done with her."

Drennen's face had gone white; the fingers gripping his torn side were
sticky and wet and red. He rose half way from his chair only to drop
back, the rigid muscles along his jaw showing how the teeth were hard
set. He had seemed to forget Ernestine, George, all of them, his gaze
seeking and finding the table where his gold lay, then lifting to Frank
Marquette's face suspiciously. Then it was that he noted and that
others marked for the first time how again the outer door had opened
that night to admit tardy guests. A little flicker of surprise came
into his eyes, and small wonder.

Three persons had entered before Ernestine had cried out and fired the
first shot, two men and a girl. The men would come in for their share
of attention later; the girl demanded hers now, like a right and a
tribute. She stood a little in front of her companions. Her eye