oop and spit upon the dead face of the one worst
white man.

Almost touching their feet lapped the brown, bubble-dotted waters of
the river, and close in, at a hand's reach from the bank, the logs
passed sluggishly in the slow swing of the shore eddy.

The eyes of the pair focused in intense eagerness upon the great forked
log which poised uncertainly at the outer edge of the whirl.

For a breathless moment they watched while it seemed that the great log
with its gruesome freight must be swept out into the main current of
the stream. Sluggishly it revolved, as upon an axis, and then, in the
grip of a random cross-current, swung heavily shoreward.

The form of the old woman bent forward and, as the log drifted slowly
past, a talon-like hand shot out and fastened upon the bit of striped
cloth, and the next moment the two were tugging and hauling in their
efforts to drag the limp body clear of the brown waters.

Seizing upon the heavy calked boots they worked the body inch by inch
up the steep slope, and the dry lips of the old squaw curled in a
snaggy grin as she noted the shattered leg and the toe of the boot
twisted backward--a grin that deepened into a grimace of sardonic
cruelty at the feel of the grating rasp of the shattered bone ends.

After frequent pauses they returned to their task, and at each jerk
water gushed from the man's wide-sprung jaws.

At last, panting with exertion, they gained the top of the bank. With
glittering eyes the old squaw stooped swiftly and turned the body upon
its back. The unseeing eyes stared upward, water ceased to gush from
the open mouth, and the lolling tongue settled flabbily between the
mud-smeared lips.

A cry of savage disappointment escaped her, for the face into which she
looked was not the face of Moncrossen!

The curse of the Yaga Tah died upon her lips, for this curse may be
breathed but once in a lifetime, and if, as Father Magnus said, "God is
good," she might yet live to gaze into the dead face of the one worst
white man, and chant the curse of the Yaga Tah.

So she stifled the curse and contented herself with gloating over the
battered body of the man of logs which the churning white-water of the
Blood River rapid had tossed at her feet, even as the seething
white-water of the Saw Tooth had tossed the body of her Pierre at the
feet of the white men.

At her side the girl gazed curiously at the exanimate form. In her
heart was no bitterness against the peopl