from a black abyss.

The instant he struck, Hedin realized the folly of his act. He would
have given all he possessed to have recalled the blow. McNabb had
trusted him to carry out a carefully laid plan--and he had failed. He
remembered how the old Scot had told him frankly that Jean had fallen
in love with Wentworth, and personally, while he believed him to be a
good engineer, he wouldn't trust him out of his sight. And then he had
outlined the scheme he had laid for showing him up so that Jean would
be convinced of his crookedness. And now he had spoiled it all.

The man on the floor stirred restlessly. The thought flashed into
Hedin's brain that there might still be a chance. If he played his
part well, it was possible.

The next thing Wentworth knew, Sven Larson was bending over him,
bathing his face with a large red handkerchief saturated with cold
water. "What in hell happened?" muttered the man, as he brushed
clumsily at his fast discoloring eye with his hand. With the help of
the factor's clerk he sat up. "You hit me! Damn you! What did you
hit me for?"

"I am sorry I hit you," answered Hedin heavily. "It is in here--the
thing that makes me strike." He rubbed his forehead with his fingers.
"It is like many worms crawling inside my head, when one speaks ill of
women. My eyes get hot, and the red streaks come, and then I strike.
It was such a thing that made me strike Pollak. But I had a hammer in
my hand and I looked and saw that Pollak was dead, so I ran away from
there and climbed onto the ship. I am glad I did not have a hammer in
my hand to-day."

Wentworth regained his feet and glanced at his fast closing eye in the
bit of mirror that hung above his wash bench. "So am I," he seconded,
forcing a smile. "Where did all this happen? Who was Pollak, and
where did the ship take you?"

"It was in London in the place of Levinski, the furrier. Pollak and I
worked for him in the sorting of skins. The ship took me to Port
Nelson. It was a Hudson's Bay Company ship, and I hired out to the
Company and they sent me here to Gods Lake. I like it here."

"So that's it, is it? Well, now you listen to me. We'll just forget
the black eye and make a little trade. You keep still about the sable
coat, and about hitting me, and I'll keep still about your killing
Pollak. Mind you, if I should tell Murchison you had killed a man he
would send you back to London, and they would hang you."

"Yes,