I whipped about a dozen men that time. And once or
twice every season since I've been in the habit of dropping in there
and raising the very devil out of sheer resentment. It's a wonder some
fellow hasn't killed me, for it's a fact that I've thrashed every man
in the blamed place except Jim Briggs--and some of them two or three
times. And I make them line up at the bar and drink at my expense, and
all that sort of foolishness.

"That may sound to you like real depravity," he concluded, "but it's a
fact in nature that a man has to blow the steam off his chest about
every so often. I have got drunk in Cariboo Meadows, and I have raised
all manner of disturbances there, partly out of pure animal spirits,
and mostly because I had a grudge against them. Consequently I really
have given them reason to look askance at any one--particularly a nice
girl from the East--who would have anything to do with me. If they
weren't a good deal afraid of me, and always laying for a chance to do
me up, they wouldn't let me stay in the town overnight. So you can see
what a handicap I was under when it came to making your acquaintance
and courting you in the orthodox manner."

"You've made a great mistake," she said bitterly, "if you think you've
removed the handicap. I've suffered a great deal at the hands of men
in the past six months. I'm beginning to believe that all men are
brutes at heart."

Roaring Bill sat up and clasped his hands over his knees and stared
fixedly into the fire.

"No," he said slowly, "all men are not brutes--any more than all women
are angels. I'll convince you of that."

"Take me home, then," she cried forlornly. "That's the only way you
can convince me or make amends."

"No," Bill murmured, "that isn't the way. Wait till you know me
better. Besides, I couldn't take you out now if I wanted to without
exposing you to greater hardships than you'll have to endure here. Do
you realize that it's fall, and we're in the high latitudes? This snow
may not go off at all. Even if it does it will storm again before a
week. You couldn't wallow through snow to your waist in
forty-below-zero weather."

"People will pass here, and I'll get word out," Hazel asserted
desperately.

"What good would that do you? You've got too much conventional regard
for what you term your reputation to send word to Cariboo Meadows that
you're living back here with Roaring Bill Wagstaff, and won't some one
please come and