in tracking--Retief--down." She laughed
silently. "Lablache is to pay. They are going over the old ground again,
I guess. The tracks of the cattle. Horrocks is not to be feared. We must
watch Lablache. He will act. Horrocks will only be his puppet."

Bill pondered before he spoke.

"Yes," he said thoughtfully at last, "that is the best of news. The very
best. Horrocks can track. He is one of the best at that game. But I have
taken every precaution. Tracking is useless--waste of time."

"I know that from past experience, Bill. Now that the campaign has
begun, what is the next move?"

The girl was all eagerness. Her beautiful dark face was no longer pale.
It was aglow with the enthusiasm of her feelings. Her deep, meaning eyes
burned with a consuming brilliancy. Framed in its setting of curling,
raven hair, her face would have rejoiced the heart of the old masters of
the Van Dyke school. She was wondrously beautiful. Bill gazed upon her
features with devouring eyes, and thoughts of the wrongs committed by
Lablache against her and hers teemed through his brain and set his blood
surging through his veins in a manner that threatened to overbalance his
usual cool judgment. He forced himself to an outward calmness, however,
and the lazy tones of his voice remained as easy as ever.

"On the result of the next move much will depend," he said. "It is to be
a terrific _coup_, and will entail careful planning. It is fortunate
that the people at the half-breed camp are the friends of--of--Retief."

"Yes, and of mine," put in the girl. Then she added slowly, and as
though with painful thought, "Say, Bill, be--be careful. I guess you are
all I have in the world--you and uncle. Do you know, I've kind of seen
to the end of this racket. Maybe there's trouble coming. Who's to be
lagged I can't say. There are shadows around, Bill; the place fairly
hums with 'em. Say, don't--don't give Lablache a slant at you. I can't
spare you, Bill."

The tall thin figure of her companion stepped over towards her, and she
felt herself encircled by his long powerful arms. Then he bent down from
his great height and kissed her passionately upon the lips.

"Take comfort, little girl. This is a war, if necessary, to the death.
Should anything happen to me, you may be sure that I leave you freed
from the snares of old Shylock. Yes, I will be careful, Jacky. We are
playing for a heavy stake. You may trust me."

CHAPTER XV

AMONG THE HALF-BREED