bitterly, defiantly. "Go on if you can."

The Superintendent stood silent.

"Ah!" breathed Moira, a thrill of triumphant relief in her voice, "he
cannot explain."

With dramatic swiftness the explanation came. It was from Jerry.

"H'explain?" cried the little half-breed, quivering with rage.
"H'explain? What for he can no h'explain? Dem horse he steal de
night-tam'--dat whiskee he trade on de Indian. Bah! He no good--he one
beeg tief. Me--I put him one sure place he no steal no more!"

A few moments of tense silence held the group rigid. In the center stood
Raven, his face pale, hard, but smiling, before him Moira, waiting,
eager, with lips parted and eyes aglow with successive passions,
indignation, doubt, fear, horror, grief. Again that swift and subtle
change touched Raven's face as his eyes rested upon the face of the girl
before him.

"Now you know why I cannot stay," he said gently, almost sadly.

"It is not true," murmured Moira, piteous appeal in voice and eyes. A
spasm crossed the pale face upon which her eyes rested, then the old
cynical look returned.

"Once more, thank you, Mrs. Cameron," he said with a bow to Mandy, "for
a happy half-hour by your fireside, and farewell."

"Good-by," said Mandy sadly.

He turned to Moira.

"Oh, good-by, good-by," cried the girl impulsively, reaching out her
hand.

"Good-by," he said simply. "I shall not forget that you were kind to
me." He bent low before her, but did not touch her outstretched hand. As
he turned toward the door Jerry slipped in before him.

"You let him go?" he cried excitedly, looking at the Superintendent; but
before the latter could answer a hand caught him by the coat collar
and with a swift jerk landed him on the floor. It was Smith, his face
furiously red. Before Jerry could recover himself Raven had opened the
door and passed out.

"Oh, how awful!" said Mandy in a hushed, broken voice.

Moira stood for a moment as if dazed, then suddenly turned to Smith and
said:

"Thank you. That was well done."

And Smith, red to his hair roots, murmured, "You wanted him to go?"

"Yes," said Moira, "I wanted him to go."

CHAPTER XVI

WAR

Commissioner Irvine sat in his office at headquarters in the little town
of Regina, the capital of the North West Territories of the Dominion. A
number of telegrams lay before him on the table. A look of grave anxiety
was on his face. The cause of his anxiety was to be found in the news
containe