nifestation of anger with hard eyes into which
no expression crept. West was not insane enough to alienate his last
ally. He drew back sullenly.

"All right. I'll go, since you're so particular." As his heavy body
swung round awkwardly, the man's eyes fell on Jessie. She had
lifted one small foot and was starting to pull on one of the duffle
stockings. He stood a moment, gloating over the beautifully shaped
ankle and lower limb, then slouched forward and snatched her up from
the stool into his arms.

His savage, desirous eyes had given her an instant's warning. She was
half up before his arms, massive as young trees, dragged her into his
embrace.

"But before I go I'll have a kiss from my squaw," he roared. "Just to
show her that Bully West has branded her and claims ownership."

She fought, fiercely, desperately, pushing against his rough bearded
face and big barrel chest with all the force in her lithe young body.
She was as a child to him. His triumphant laughter pealed as he
crushed her warm soft trunk against his own and buried her in his
opened coat. With an ungentle hand he forced round the averted head
till the fear-filled eyes met his.

"Kiss yore man," he ordered.

The girl said nothing. She still struggled to escape, using every
ounce of strength she possessed.

The fury of her resistance amused him. He laughed again, throwing back
the heavy bristling jaw in a roar of mirth.

"Yore man--yore master," he amended.

He smothered her with his foul kisses, ravished her lips, her eyes,
the soft hot cheeks, the oval of the chin, and the lovely curve of
the throat. She was physically nauseated when he flung her from him
against the wall and strode from the room with another horrible whoop
of exultation.

She clung to the wall, panting, eyes closed. A shocking sense of
degradation flooded her soul. She felt as though she were drowning in
it, fathoms deep. Her lids fluttered open and she saw the gambler. He
was still sitting on the stool. A mocking, cynical smile was in the
eyes that met Jessie's.

"And Tom Morse--where, oh, where is he?" the man jeered.

A chill shook her. Dry sobs welled up in her throat. She was lost.
For the first time she knew the cold clutch of despair at her heart.
Whaley did not intend to lift a hand for her. He had sat there and let
West work his will.

"Angus McRae gave me instructions aplenty," he explained maliciously.
"I was to keep my hands off you. I was to mind my own