feller grins."

"What did he say?" Kars persisted.

"He'd do all he knew to get the kid away. But he guessed he'd be up
against it. He guessed Alec had mighty little use for him, and you
can't blame the kid when you think of that grin. But he figgered to do
his best anyway. He cursed the kid for a sucker, and talked of a
mother's broken heart if things happened. But I don't reckon he cares
a cuss anyway. That feller's got one thing in life if I got any sane
notion. It's trade. He hasn't the scruples of a Jew money-lender for
anything else."

Kars nodded.

"I'm feeling that way--too."

"You couldn't feel otherwise."

"I wasn't thinking of your yarn, Bill," Kars said quickly. "It's
something else. That feller's shipped in a thousand rifles, and a big
lot of ammunition. I lit on it through John Dunne. What's he want 'em
for? I've been asking myself that ever since. He don't need a
thousand rifles for trade."

It was Bill's turn for inquiry. It came with a promptness that
suggested his estimation of the importance of the news.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Is he going to wipe out the Bell River outfit?" Kars' eyes regarded
his friend steadily.

For some moments no further word was spoken. Each was contemplating
the ruthless purpose of a man who contemplated wiping out a tribe of
savages to suit his own sordid ends. It was almost unbelievable. Yet
a thousand rifles for a small trading post. It was the number which
inspired the doubt.

It was Kars who finally broke the silence. He left his seat on the
table and stood again at the window with his back turned.

"Guess we best leave it at that," he said.

"Yes. What are you going to do?"

"Look in at the Gridiron, and pass the time of day with young Alec."
Kars laughed shortly. Then he turned, and his purpose was shining in
his eyes. "Alec's Jessie's brother--and I've got to save that kid from
himself."

CHAPTER XIX

AT THE GRIDIRON

Kars was early abroad. He left his apartment on the first floor of the
same apartment house which furnished Bill Brudenell with his less
palatial quarters, and sauntered down the main street in the direction
of the Gridiron.

His mood was by no means a happy one. He realized only too surely that
a man bent upon an errand such as he was stood at something more than a
disadvantage. His life was made up of the study of the life about him.
His understanding was of the cruder side of things. But