n make. We've
got to act bright."

He sat lost in thought for some minutes, his watch still held in the
palm of his hand. He was thinking of the immediate rather than of the
significance of his friend's discovery. His cheerful face was grave.
He was calculating chances with all the care of a clear-thinking,
experienced brain.

John Kars was thinking too. But the direction which absorbed him was
quite different. He was regarding his discovery in connection with
Fort Mowbray.

At last he stirred restlessly.

"I can't get it right!" he exclaimed. "I just can't."

"How's that?"

Bill's plans were complete. For a day or so he knew that his would be
the responsibility. Kars would have to take things easy.

"What can't you get right?" he added.

"Why, the whole darn play of it. That strike has been worked years,
I'd say. We've trailed this country with eyes and ears mighty wide.
Guess we haven't run into a thing about Bell River but what's darn
unpleasant. Years that's been waiting. Shrieking for us to get around
and help ourselves. Gee, I want to kick something."

Bill regarded his friend with serious eyes.

"You're going to butt in? You're going to play a hand in that--game?"

Kars' eyes widened in surprise.

"Sure." Then he added, "So are you." He smiled.

Bill shook his head.

"Not willingly--me," he said.

"Why not?"

Bill stretched himself out on his blankets. He was fully dressed. He
intended to pass the night that way. He clasped his hands behind his
neck, and his gaze was on the firelight beyond the door.

"First, because it's taking a useless chance. You don't need it," he
said deliberately. "Second, because that was Allan Mowbray's strike.
It was his big secret that he'd worked most of his days for, and, in
the end, gave his life for. If we butt in there'll come a rush, and
you'll rob a widow and a young girl who've never done you injury. It
don't sound to me your way."

"You think Mrs. Mowbray and Jessie know of it?"

Bill glanced round quickly.

"Mrs. Mowbray--sure."

"Ah--not Jessie?"

"Can't say. Maybe not. More than likely--not."

"Alec?"

Bill shook his head decidedly.

"Not that boy."

"Murray McTavish?"

"He knows."

Kars nodded agreement.

"He knew when he was lying to me he didn't understand Allan visiting
Bell River," he said.

Kars' eyes had become coldly contemplative. And in the brief silence
that followed, for all his intimate under