hat did duty for them, wound round their waists
and necks. At intervals Pasmore could hear an odd rifle
shot, and he guessed that the Fort must be closely
invested. His first thoughts, however, were for Dorothy
and her father, whom he hoped were now safely back under
the friendly protection of Child-of-Light.

"Sar-jean," said a big half-breed whom he recognised as
one of his guards of the previous night, "will you haf
to eat and drink?"

The fellow did not look such a callous fanatic as some
of the others, and although this promise of breakfast
was not particularly exhilarating, still, Pasmore had a
healthy appetite, and he answered in the affirmative.

The big breed issued some orders, and in a few minutes,
to Pasmore's no little satisfaction, a lad brought a tin
of biscuits, a tin of salmon, a piece of cheese, and a
spoon, all obviously supplied by the Hudson Bay Company
on the previous evening free of charge--and against its
will.

He sat down on the upturned pail once more and enjoyed
the simple fare. It was queer to think that this meal in
all probability would be his last on earth. His
surroundings seemed incongruous and unreal, and his mind
ran in a vein of whimsical speculation. It is strange
to think, but it is a fact, all the same, that certain
temperaments, when face to face with death, allow their
thoughts to take an oddly critical and retrospective view
of things in general. The fear of death does not affect
them, although, at the same time, they are fully conscious
of the momentous issues of their fate.

The crowd gathered around the door of the long building,
and many were the uncouth jests made at the expense of
the prisoner. One or two still half-drunk Indians pushed
their way through and came close up to him, talking
volubly and shaking their fire-arms in his face. But the
big breed let out at them with his great fists, and sent
them away expostulating still more volubly. Pasmore could
easily have settled the matter himself under other
circumstances, but he did not wish to precipitate matters.
The crowd grew in numbers, and very soon he gathered
something in regard to what was on foot.

He was to be taken to a certain little rise on the
outskirts of the village, where the Police had shot a
notorious malcontent and murderer some years before, and
there he was, in his turn, to be executed. This would be
retributive justice! Pasmore recollected with cynical
amusement how some of these very