out his
big, red hand.

"Mac! God! You don't mean to say you've forgotten...."

David took the hand.

"Brokaw!" he chanced.

The other's hand was as cold as a piece of beef. But it possessed a
crushing strength. Hauck was staring from one to the other, and suddenly
Brokaw turned to him, still pumping David's hand.

"McKenna--that young devil of Kicking Horse, Hauck! You've heard me
speak of him. McKenna...."

The girl had backed to the door. She was pale. Her eyes were shining,
and she was looking straight at David when Brokaw released his hand.

"Good-night, _Sakewawin_!" she said.

It was very distinct, that word--_Sakewawin_! David had never heard it
come quite so clearly from her lips. There was something of defiance and
pride in her utterance of it--and intentional and decisive emphasis to
it. She smiled at him as she went through the door, and in that same
breath Hauck had followed her. They disappeared. When David turned he
found Brokaw backed against the table, his hands gripping the edge of
it, his face distorted by passion. It was a terrible face to look
into--to stand before, alone in that room--a face filled with menace and
murder. So sudden had been the change in it that David was stunned for a
moment. In that space of perhaps a quarter of a minute neither uttered a
sound. Then Brokaw leaned slowly forward, his great hands clenched, and
demanded in a hissing voice:

"What did she mean when she called you that--_Sakewawin_? What did she
mean?"

It was not now the voice of a drunken man, but the voice of a man ready
to kill.

CHAPTER XXI

"_Sakewawin!_ What did she mean when she called you that?"

It was Brokaw's voice again, turning the words round but repeating them.
He made a step toward David, his hands clenched more tightly and his
whole hulk growing tense. His eyes, blazing as if through a very thin
film of water--water that seemed to cling there by some strange
magic--were horrible, David thought. _Sakewawin!_ A pretty name for
himself, he had told the girl--and here it was raising the very devil
with this drink-bloated colossus. He guessed quickly. It was decidedly a
matter of guessing quickly and of making prompt and satisfactory
explanation--or, a throttling where he stood. His mind worked like a
race-horse. "Sakewawin" meant something that had enraged Brokaw. A
jealous rage. A rage that had filled his aqueous eyes with a lurid
glare. So David said, looking into them calml