keeping that kid, and then he made up his mind to
get it back to Papa O'Doone in some way. He sneaked back where the cabin
had been, and found nothing but char there. It had been burned. Oh, the
devil, but it was funny! And after all this trouble he hadn't dared to
take O'Doone's place with the woman. Conscience? Bah! He was a fool. You
don't get a pretty woman like that very often, eh, Mac?" Unsteadily he
tilted the flask to turn himself out another drink. His voice was
thickening. David rejoiced when he saw that the flask was empty.

"Dam'!" said Brokaw, shaking it.

"Go on," insisted David. "You haven't told me how you came by the girl,
Brokaw?"

The watery film was growing thicker over Brokaw's eyes. He brought
himself back to his story with an apparent effort.

"Came west, Bucky did--with the kid," he went on. "Struck my cabin, on
the Mackenzie, a year later. Told me all about it. Then one day he
sneaked away and left her with me, begging me to put her where she'd be
safe. I did. Gave her to Hauck's woman, and told her Bucky's story.
Later, Hauck came over here and built this place. Three years ago I come
down from the Yukon, and saw the kid. Pretty? Gawd, she was! Almost a
woman. And she was _mine_. I told 'em so. Mebby the woman would have
cheated me, but I had Hauck on the hip because I saw him kill a man when
he was drunk--a white man from Fort MacPherson. Helped him hide the
body. And then--oh, it was funny!--I ran across Bucky! He was living in
a shack a dozen miles from here, an' he didn't know Marge was the
O'Doone baby. I told him a big lie--told him the kid died, an' that I'd
heard the woman had killed herself, and that O'Doone was in a lunatic
asylum. Mebby he did have a conscience, the fool! Guess he was a little
crazy himself. Went away soon after that. Never heard of him since. An'
I've been hanging round until the girl was old enough to live with a
man. Ain't I done right, Mac? Don't she belong to me? An' to-morrow...."

His head rolled. He recovered himself with an effort, and leaned heavily
against the table. His face was almost barren of human expression. It
was the face of a monster, unlighted by reason, stripped of mind and
soul. And David, glaring into it across the table, questioned him once
more, even as he heard the crunch of footsteps outside, and knew that
Hauck was coming--coming in all probability to unmask him in the part he
had played. But Hauck was too late. He was ready to fight