el! He couldn't believe it!
Brokaw's face was like a red fire in his exultation, his lustful joy,
his great triumph. He drank the liquor he had proffered David, and drank
a second time, rumbling in his thick chest like some kind of animal. Of
course she was an angel! Hadn't he, and Hauck, and that woman who had
died, made her grow into an angel--just for him? She belonged to him.
Always had belonged to him, and he had waited a long time. If she had
ever called any other man that name--Sakewawin--he would have killed
him. Certain. Killed him dead. This was the first time she had ever
called him that. Lucky dog? You bet he was. They'd go to his shack--and
talk. He drank a third time. He rolled heavily as they entered the hall,
David praying that they would not meet Hauck. He had his victim. He was
sure of him. And the hall was empty. He picked up his gun and pack, and
held to Brokaw's arm as they went out into the night. Brokaw staggered
guidingly into a wall of darkness, talking thickly about lucky dogs.
They had gone perhaps a hundred paces when he stopped suddenly, very
close to something that looked to David like a section of tall fence
built of small trees. It was the cage. He jumped at that conclusion
before he could see it clearly in the clouded starlight. From it there
came a growling rumble, a deep breath that was like air escaping from a
pair of bellows, and he saw faintly a huge, motionless shape beyond the
stripped and upright sapling trunks.

"Grizzly," said Brokaw, trying to keep himself on an even balance. "Big
bear-fight to-morrow, Mac. My bear--her bear--a great fight! Everybody
in to see it. Nothing like a bear-fight, eh? S'prise her, won't
it--pretty little wench! When she sees her bear fighting mine? Betchu
hundred dollars my bear kills Tara!"

"To-morrow," said David. "I'll bet to-morrow. Where's the shack?"

He was anxious to reach that, and he hoped it was a good distance away.
He feared every moment that he would hear Hauck's voice or his footsteps
behind them, and he knew that Hauck's presence would spoil everything.
Brokaw, in his cups, was talkative--almost garrulous. Already he had
explained the mystery of the cage, and the Indians. The big fight was to
take place in the cage, and the Indians had come in to see it. He found
himself wondering, as they went through the darkness, how it had all
been kept from the girl, and why Brokaw should deliberately lower
himself still more in her esteem by