West hesitated. This
man--his partner--would surely never shoot him about such a trifle.
Still--

"What's eatin' you?" he growled. "Put up that gun. You ain't fool
enough to shoot."

"Think that hard enough and you'll never live to know better. Hands
off the girl."

The slow brain of West functioned. He had been taken wholly by
surprise, but as his cunning mind Worked the situation out, he saw how
much it would be to Whaley's profit to get rid of him. The gambler
would get the girl and the reward for West's destruction. He would
inherit his share of their joint business and would reinstate himself
as a good citizen with the Mounted and with McRae's friends.

Surlily the desperado yielded. "All right, if you're so set on it."

"Drop the whip."

The fingers of West opened and the handle fell to the floor. Deftly
the other removed a revolver from its place under the outlaw's left
armpit.

West glared at him. That moment the fugitive made up his mind that he
would kill Whaley at the first good opportunity. A tide of poisonous
hatred raced through his veins. Its expression but not its virulence
was temporarily checked by wholesome fear. He must be careful that the
gambler did not get him first.

His voice took on a whine intended for good-fellowship. "I reckon
I was too pre-emtory. O' course I was sore the way you two left me
holdin' the sack. Any one would 'a' been now, wouldn't they? But no
use friends fallin' out. We got to make the best of things."

Whaley's chill face did not warm. He knew the man with whom he was
dealing. When he began to butter his phrases, it was time to look out
for him. He would forget that his partner had brought him from Faraway
a dog-team with which to escape, that he was supplying him with funds
to carry him through the winter. He would remember only that he had
balked and humiliated him.

"Better get into the house the stuff from the sled," the gambler said.
"And we'll rustle wood. No telling how long this storm'll last."

"Tha's right," agreed West. "When I saw them sun dogs to-day I figured
we was in for a blizzard. Too bad you didn't outfit me for a longer
trip."

A gale was blowing from the north, carrying on its whistling breath
a fine hard sleet that cut the eyeballs like powdered glass. The men
fought their way to the sled and wrestled with the knots of the frozen
ropes that bound the load. The lumps of ice that had gathered round
these had to be knocked off with hamme