-he tak' you
back. You no pay--" The man shrugged significantly.

The girl stared, dumbfounded. "What do you mean? One hundred thousand
dollars! Are you crazy?"

The man stepped close, his eyes gleaming wickedly. "You reech. You
pay un hondre t'ousan' dollaire, or, ba gar, you nevaire com' out de
bush!"

Chloe laughed in derision. "Oh! I am kidnapped! Is that it? How
romantic!" The man scowled. "Don't be a fool, Vermilion! Do you
suppose I came into this country with a hundred thousand dollars in
cash--or even a tenth of that amount?"

The man shrugged indifferently. "_Non_, but you mak' de write on de
papaire, an' Menard, he tak' heem to de bank--Edmonton--Preence Albert.
He git de money. By-m-by, two mont', me'be, he com' back. Den,
Vermilion, he tak' you close to de H.B. post--_bien_! You kin go hom',
an' Vermilion, he go ver' far away."

Chloe suddenly realized that the man was in earnest. Her eyes flashed
over the swarthy, villainous faces of the scowmen, and the seriousness
of the situation dawned upon her. She knew, now, that the separating
of the scows was the first move in a deep-laid scheme. Her brain
worked rapidly. It was evident that the men on the other scows were
not party to the plot, or Vermilion would not have risked running the
Chute in the darkness. She glanced up the river. Would the other
scows come on? It was her one hope. She must play for time. Harriet
Penny sobbed aloud, and Big Lena glowered. Again Chloe laughed into
the scowling face of the half-breed. "What about the Mounted? When
they find I am missing there will be an investigation."

For answer, Vermilion pointed toward the river-bank, where the men were
working with long poles in the overturning of the scow. "We shove heem
out in de rivaire. Wen dey fin', dey t'ink she mak' for teep ovaire in
de Chute. _Voila_! Dey say: 'Een de dark she run on de
rock'--_pouf_!" he signified eloquently the instantaneous snuffing out
of lives. Even as he spoke the scow overturned with a splash, and the
scowmen pushed it out into the river, where it floated bottom upward,
turning lazily in the grip of an eddy. The girl's heart sank as her
eyes rested upon the overturned scow. Vermilion had plotted cunningly.
He drew closer now--leering horribly.

"You mak' write on de papaire--_non_?"

A swift anger surged in the girl's heart. "No!" she cried. "I will
not write! I have no such amount in any bank this side o