fle and staggered against the wall. The
other paused and glanced upward. Chloe shot squarely into his face.
The bullet ripped downward, splitting his jaw. The man rushed
screaming over the snow, tearing with both hands at the wound.

MacNair was upon his feet now. Beyond him the fighting was hand to
hand. With clubbed guns and axes, Lapierre's men were meeting the
Indians who swarmed over the walls. Once more the wild wolf-cry rang
in the girl's ears as MacNair leaped into the thick of the fight. The
girl became conscious that someone was pounding at her feet. She
glanced downward. Two Indians were upon the ladder waiting to get over
the wall. Without hesitation she tightened her grip upon her revolver
and leaped into the stockade. She sprawled awkwardly in the snow. She
felt her shoulder seized viciously. Someone was jerking her to her
feet. She looked up and encountered the gleaming eyes of Lapierre.

Chloe tried to raise her revolver, but Lapierre kicked it from her
hand. There was the sound of a heavy impact. Lapierre's hand was
jerked from her shoulder; he was hurled backward, cursing, into the
snow. One of the Indians who had followed Chloe up the ladder had
leaped squarely upon the quarter-breed's shoulders. Like a flash
Lapierre drew his automatic, but the Indian threw himself upon the gun
and tore it from his grasp. Then he scrambled to his feet. Lapierre,
too, was upon his feet in an instant.

"Shoot, you fool! Kill him! Kill him!" cried Chloe.

But the Indian continued to stare stupidly, and Lapierre dashed to
safety around the corner of his storehouse.

"MacNair say no kill," said the Indian gravely.

"Not kill!" cried the girl. "He is crazy! What is he thinking of?"
But the Indian was already out of ear-shot. Chloe glanced about her
for her revolver. An evil-faced half-breed, dragging his body from the
hips, pulled himself toward it, hunching along with his bare hands
digging into the crust of the snow. The girl reached it a second
before him. The man cursed her shrilly and sank into the snow, crying
aloud like a child.

Suddenly Chloe realized that the battle had surged beyond her. Shots
and hoarse cries arose from the scrub beyond the storehouse, while all
about her, in the trampled snow, wounded men cursed and prayed, and
dead men froze in the slush of their own heart's blood. The girl
followed into the scrub, and to her surprise came face to face with the
Louchoux g