rade of the river. And they sought Murray's office.

There they found Mrs. Mowbray and Alec. Murray, too, was at his desk.

On their entrance they were greeted at once by the mother. Her eyes
were smiling and full of confidence. She looked into John Kars' face,
and he read her news even before she spoke.

"The country's clear of them," she cried, and her relief and delight
rang in every tone.

Jessie went at once to her side. But Kars turned to the squat figure
which filled its chair to overflowing. His steady eyes regarded the
smiling features of the trader.

"Did it come to a scrap?" he inquired easily.

Murray shook his head. His dark eyes were no less direct than the
other's.

"Guess there were too many in my outfit," he said with a shrug. "It
was a bunch of neches I'd have thought your outfit could have--eaten.
A poor lot--sure."

He finished up with a deliberate laugh, and his intention was obvious.

Kars understood, and did not display the least resentment.

"I'm glad," he said seriously. "Real glad." Then he added: "I didn't
guess you'd have a heap of trouble."

He turned to the women. And his attitude left the trader's purpose
mean and small.

"Murray's got us all beaten anyhow," he said easily. "We think we're
wise. We think we know it all. But we don't. Anyway I'm glad the
danger's fixed. I guess it'll leave me free to quit for the outside
right away."

Then he turned to Murray, and their eyes met, and held, and only the
two men knew, and understood, the challenge which lay behind.

"Guess I can make Leaping Horse before the rivers freeze. But I'm
getting back here with the thaw. I allow next year I'm taking no sort
of chance. This hole in my neck," he went on, indicating the bandage
about his throat, "has taught me a lot I didn't know before. The
outfit I get around with next year will be big enough to eat up any
proposition Bell River can hand me."

CHAPTER XVII

A NIGHT IN LEAPING HORSE

Leaping Horse was a beacon which reflected its ruddy light upon the
night sky, a sign, a lure to the yearning hearts at distant points,
toiling for the wage with which to pay for sharing in its wild
excesses. It was the Gorgon of the northland, alluring, destructive,
irresistible. It was a temple dedicated to the worship of the Gods of
the Wilderness. Light, luxury and vice. Such was the summing up of
Dr. Bill, and the few who paused in the mad riot for a moment's sober