He
leaned on the cart wheel until he was able to stand. The help of Morse
he brushed aside with a sputtered oath. His eyes never left the man
who had beaten him. He snarled hike a whipped wolf. The hunter's
metaphor had been an apt one. The horrible lust to kill was stamped on
his distorted, grinning face, but for the present the will alone was
not enough.

McRae's foot was on the revolver. His son Fergus, a swarthy,
good-looking youngster, had come up and was standing quietly behind
his father. Other hunters were converging toward their chief.

The Indian trader swore a furious oath of vengeance. Morse tried to
lead him away.

"Some day I'll get yore squaw girl right, McRae, an' then God help
her," he threatened.

The bully lurched straddling away.

Morse, a sardonic grin on his lean face, followed him over the hill.

CHAPTER V

MORSE JUMPS UP TROUBLE

"Threw me down, didn't you?" snarled West out of the corner of his
mouth. "Knew all the time she did it an' never let on to me. A hell of
a way to treat a friend."

Tom Morse said nothing. He made mental reservations about the word
friend, but did not care to express them. His somber eyes watched the
big man jerk the spade bit cruelly and rowel the bronco when it went
into the air. It was a pleasure to West to torture an animal when no
human was handy, though he preferred women and even men as victims.

"Whad he mean when he said you could tell me how he'd settled with
her?" he growled.

"He whipped her last night when I took her back to camp."

"Took her back to camp, did you? Why didn't you bring her to me? Who's
in charge of this outfit, anyhow, young fellow, me lad?"

"McRae's too big a man for us to buck. Too influential with the
half-breeds. I figured it was safer to get her right home to him." The
voice of the younger man was mild and conciliatory.

"_You_ figured!" West's profanity polluted the clear, crisp morning
air. "I got to have a run in with you right soon. I can see that.
Think because you're C.N. Morse's nephew, you can slip yore funny
business over on me. I'll show you."

The reddish light glinted for a moment in the eyes of Morse, but he
said nothing. Young though he was, he had a capacity for silence. West
was not sensitive to atmospheres, but he felt the force of this young
man. It was not really in his mind to quarrel with him. For one thing
he would soon be a partner in the firm of C.N. Morse & Company, of
Fort Benton,