to an ironical sneer.

"But here's your girl and this man ahead of us. I suppose there's
others on the way, too."

"Nonsense!" Burrell cut in. "Don't quarrel about this. Miss Gale got
wind of your secret, and beat you at your own game, so that ends it;
but there's plenty of ground left for all of you, and no harm done.
Nobody knows of this strike from us, I can assure you."

"I call it dam' sleeck work," chuckled the Canadian, slipping out of
his straps. "De nex' tam' I go stampedin' I tak' you 'long, Necia."

"Me, too," said Lee. "An' now I'm goin' to tear into some of them beans
I smell a bilin' in yonder."

The others followed, although Stark and Runnion looked black and had
little to say. It was an uncomfortable meal--every one was ill at ease;
Gale, in particular, was quiet, and ate less than any of them. His eyes
sought Stark's face frequently, and once the blood left his cheeks and
his eyes blazed as he observed the gambler eying Necia, gazing at her
with the same boldness he would have used in scanning a horse.

"You are a mighty good-looking girl for a 'blood,'" remarked Stark, at
last.

"Thank you," she replied, simply, and the soldier's vague dislike of
the man crystallized into hate on the instant. There was a tone back of
his words that seemed aimed at the trader, Meade thought, but Gale
showed no sign of it, so the meal was finished in silence, after which
the five belated prospectors went out to make their locations, for the
fear of interruption was upon them now.

First they went down-stream, and, according to their agreement, the
trader staked first, followed by Poleon and Stark, thus throwing
Runnion's claim more than a mile distant from Lee's discovery. From
here they went up the creek to find the girl's other locations, one on
each branch, at which Stark sneeringly remarked that she had pre-empted
enough ground for a full-grown white woman.

Runnion's displeasure was even more open, and he fell into foul-mouthed
mutterings, addressing himself to Poleon and Stark while the trader was
out of earshot.

"This affair don't smell right, and I still think it's a frame-up."

"Bah!" exclaimed Doret.

"The old man sent the girl on ahead of us to blanket all the good
ground. That's what he did!"

"Dat's fool talk," declared the Frenchman.

"I'm not so sure," Stark broke in. "You remember he hung back and
wanted to go slow from the start; and didn't he ask us to camp early
last night? Looks no