e cold face of his dead love, and then Helen spoke again.

"But tell me! The attack on the cabin, was that man who captured
me--that man Chigmok--was he the inspirer of that?"

"I am afraid not!"

"Then it was Gerald Ainley who was to pay the price for me that the
half-breed told me of, and that is why he collapsed so utterly when
Chigmok came along just now?"

"Yes," answered Stane, simply.

"But why did he shoot down Chigmok's party?"

"Well, I think it was to get rid of witnesses who might rise up against
him. You must remember that he would be under the impression that I was
dead--killed in the attack, and that was a crime that might some day
have come to light if those men had lived. The pretended rescue was a
sufficient excuse for getting rid of the men who knew the instigator,
particularly of the half-breed."

"Yes," said Helen thoughtfully. "An idea of that sort had occurred to
me from something that Chigmok had said. But how dreadful it is to
think that a man can so conspire to--to----"

She broke off without completing her words, and Stane nodded.

"There was always a crooked strain in Ainley. But it will go hard with
him now, for the half-breed will be merciless. He is the man Anderton
was after when he came to the cabin, and his life is forfeit on another
count. He will not spare the man who bribed him to fresh crime, and
then dealt treacherously with him."

He paused in his walk and looked back towards the fire where Ainley sat
writing, with Chigmok glowering at him across the fire, whilst Anderton
sat staring abstractedly into the glowing logs. Then a stealthy
movement of the half-breed's arrested his attention. The man had thrust
his hand into his furs, and as it was withdrawn Stane caught sight of
something that gleamed in the firelight. In a flash he saw what was
about to happen, and shouted a hurried warning.

"Look out, Ainley!"

In the same second, the half-breed, standing swiftly upright, launched
himself across the fire at Ainley, knife in hand. The white man who had
looked up at Stane's sudden warning was bowled over in the snow with
the half-breed on the top of him. The knife was lifted, but never
struck, for in that second Anderton also had leaped, and gripping the
half-breed's wrist he twisted the knife from his grasp, and flinging it
away, dragged the attacker from his victim. By the time Stane had
reached the scene, Ainley was gathering up some scattered papers,
apparently none