y, and with a little
feigned surprise:

"Wasn't she speaking to you, Brokaw?"

It was a splendid shot. David scarcely knew why he made it, except that
he was moved by a powerful impulse which just now he had not time to
analyze. It was this same impulse that had kept him from revealing
himself when Brokaw had mistaken him for someone else. Chance had thrown
a course of action into his way and he had accepted it almost
involuntarily. It had suddenly occurred to him that he would give much
to be alone with this half-drunken man for a few hours--as McKenna. He
might last long enough in that disguise to discover things. But not with
Hauck watching him, for Hauck was four fifths sober, and there was a
depth to his cruel eyes which he did not like. He watched the effect of
his words on Brokaw. The tenseness left his body, his hands unclenched
slowly, his heavy jaw relaxed--and David laughed softly. He felt that he
was out of deep water now. This fellow, half filled with drink, was
wonderfully credulous. And he was sure that his watery eyes could not
see very well, though his ears had heard distinctly.

"She was looking at you, Brokaw--straight at you--when she said
good-night," he added.

"You sure--sure she said it to me, Mac?"

David nodded, even as his blood ran a little cold.

A leering grin of joy spread over Brokaw's face.

"The--the little devil!" he said, gloatingly.

"What does it mean?" David asked. "_Sakewawin_--I had never heard it."
He lied calmly, turning his head a bit out of the light.

Brokaw stared at him a moment before answering.

"When a girl says that--it means--_she belongs to you_," he said. "In
Indian it means--_possession_! Dam' ... of course you're right! She said
it to me. She's mine. She belongs to me. I own her. And I thought...."

He caught up the bottle and turned out half a glass of liquor, swaying
unsteadily:

"Drink, Mac?"

David shook his head.

"Not now. Let's go to your shack if you've got one. Lots to talk
about--old times--Kicking Horse, you know. And this girl? I can't
believe it! If it's true, you're a lucky dog."

He was not thinking of consequences--of to-morrow. To-night was all he
asked for--alone with Brokaw. That mountain of flesh, stupefied with
liquor, was no match for him now. To-morrow he might hold the whip hand,
if Hauck did not return too soon.

"Lucky dog! Lucky dog!" He kept repeating that. It was like music in
Brokaw's ears. And such a girl! An ang