girl had lost all sense of fear. She shook her clenched fist in the
bearded face of the man, and her voice quavered high and thin.

"You--you--_damn you_!" she cried. "I wish I'd left you back there to
the mercy of your savages! You're a brute--a fiend! It would serve
you right if I should give you up to them! He--the man who was
killed--was trying to save you from the righteous wrath of those you
have ground down and oppressed!"

MacNair ignored her words, and as his eyes met hers squarely, they
betrayed not the slightest emotion. The pallid features showed tense
and drawn in the growing firelight. His gaze projected past her to the
lean face of Tiger Elliston.

"You are a fighter at heart," he said slowly addressing the girl. "You
are his flesh and blood and he was a fighter. He won to victory over
the bodies of his enemies. In his eyes I can see it."

"He was no coward!" flashed the girl. "He never won to victory over
the bodies of his friends!" With an effort the man reached for his
clothing, which hung from a peg near the head of the bed.

"Where are you going?" cried the girl sharply.

"I am going," MacNair answered gravely, looking straight into her eyes,
"to take my Indians back to Snare Lake."

"They will kill you!" she cried impulsively.

"They will not!" MacNair smiled; "but if they do, you will be glad.
Did you not say----"

The girl faced swiftly away, and at the same moment the Indian at the
window staggered backward, dropping his rifle and cursing horribly in
the only English he knew, as he clutched frantically at his shoulder.
Chloe turned. MacNair was lacing his boots. He raised himself weakly
to his feet, swaying uncertainly, with his hand pressed against his
chest, and laughed harshly into the pain-twisted features of the Indian.

"When the last of yon dogs gets his bullet, I can leave this place in
safety."

"What do you mean?" cried the girl, her eyes blazing.

"I mean," rasped the man, "that you are a fool! You have listened to
Lapierre and you have easily become his dupe. There is no Indian in
his employ who would not kill me. They have had their orders. Have
you stopped to reflect that the brave Lapierre did not himself remain
to stem this attack? To protect me from my Indians?"

The sneer in MacNair's voice was not lost upon the girl, who drew
herself up haughtily.

"Mr. Lapierre," she answered, "could hardly be charged with
anticipating this attack, nor cou