bscured his view. He heard a cheer
and a clapping of hands, and he rejoiced. Then the crowd parted and he
saw the slim figure of a girl pass down the center of the reeking den.
She was clad in buckskin shirt and dungaree skirt. At the sight he
muttered a curse. The newcomer was Jacky Allandale.

He watched her closely as she moved amongst her uncouth surroundings.
Her beautiful face and graceful figure was like to an oasis of stately
flora in a desert of trailing, vicious brambles, and he marveled at the
familiarity with which she came among these people. Moreover, he became
beset with misgivings as he remembered the old stories which linked this
girl's name with that of Retief. He struggled to fathom the meaning of
what he saw, but the real significance of her coming escaped him.

The Breeds once more returned to their dancing, and all went on as
before. Horrocks followed Jacky's movements with his eyes. He saw her
standing beside a toothless old woman, who wagged her cunning, aged head
as she talked in answer to the girl's questions. Jacky seemed to be
looking and inquiring for some one, and the officer wondered if the
object of her solicitude was Retief. He would have been surprised had he
known that she was inquiring and looking for himself. Presently she
seated herself and appeared to be absorbed in the dance.

The drink was flowing freely now, and a constant demand was being made
upon Baptiste. Whilst the fiery spirit scorched down the hardened
throats, strange, weird groans came from the fiddler's woeful
instrument. The old man was tuning it down for the plaintive
requirements of the Red River Jig.

The dance of the evening was about to begin. Men and women primed
themselves for the effort. Each was eager to outdo his or her neighbor
in variety of steps and power of endurance. All were prepared to do or
die. The mad jig was a national contest, and the one who lasted the
longest would be held the champion dancer of the district--a coveted
distinction amongst this strange people.

At last the music began again, and now the familiar "Ragtime" beat
fascinatingly upon the air. Those who lined the walls took up the
measure, and, with foot and clapping hands, marked the time for the
dancers. Those who competed leapt to the fray, and soon the reeking room
became stifling with dust.

The fiddler's time, slow at the commencement, soon grew faster, and the
dancers shook their limbs in delighted anticipation. Faster an