n many tight places in his life, but he realized as he
sat in his chair and listened to the words of Black Moran that he was at
that moment facing the most dangerous situation of his career. He knew
that unless the man had fully made up his mind to kill him he would
never have disclosed his identity. And he knew that he would not
hesitate at the killing--for Black Moran, up to the time of his supposed
drowning, had been reckoned the very worst man in the North. Escape
seemed impossible, yet the boy showed not the slightest trace of fear.
He even smiled into the face of Black Moran. "So you think I'm still
with the Mounted do you?" he asked.

"Oh, no, we don't think nothin' like that," sneered the man. "Sure, we
don't. That there ain't no service revolver we tuk offen you. That
there's a marten trap, I s'pose. 'Course you're trappin', an' don't know
nothin' 'bout us tradin' _hooch_. What we'd ort to do is to sell you
some flour an' beans, an' let you go back to yer traps."

"Dangerous business bumping off an officer of the Mounted," reminded
the boy.

"Not over in here, it ain't. Special, when it's comin' on to snow. No.
They ain't no chanct in the world to git caught fer it--or even to git
blamed fer it, 'cause if they ever find what's left of you in the ashes
of the cabin, they'll think it got afire while you was asleep. Tomorrow
mornin' yo git yourn. In the meantime, Squigg, you roll in an' git some
sleep. You've got to take the outfit an' pull out early in the mornin'
an' unload that _hooch_ on to them Injuns. I'll ketch up with you 'fore
you git there, though. What I've got to do here won't take me no longer
than noon," he glanced meaningly at Connie, "an' then, we'll pull out of
this neck of the woods."

"Might's well take the kid's dogs an' harness, they might come in
handy," ventured Mr. Squigg.

"Take nothin!" roared Black Moran, angrily. "Not a blame thing that he's
got do we take. That's the trouble with you cheap crooks--grabbin' off
everything you kin lay yer hands on--and that's what gits you caught.
Sometime, someone would see something that they know'd had belonged to
him in our possession. Then, where'd we be? No, sir! Everything, dogs,
gun, sled, harness an' all goes into this cabin when she burns--so, shut
up, an' git to bed!" The man turned to Connie, "An' now, you kin roll up
on the floor in yer blankets an' pertend to sleep while you try to
figger a way out of this mess, or you kin set there in