'Frisco, you see.
He handed his yarn to me to hand on to you. Get me? I don't know how
much there is to it. I can't figger if you need to worry any. But
Josh is a wise guy, as well as tough. Anyway, I'm glad you're
quitting."

He held out a hand in warm cordiality, and Alec wrung it without a
shadow of concern. He laughed.

"Why say, that's fine," he cried, his eyes shining recklessly. "If it
wasn't for that darn pile I'd stop right around here. If Pap gets
busy, why, there's going to be some play. I don't give a whoop for all
the Paps in creation. Nor for his 'gunmen' either."

He was gone, and Murray was standing at his window gazing upon
surroundings of squalid shacks, the tattered fringe of the main street.
But he was not looking at these things. His thought was upon others
that had nothing to do with the mire of civilization in which he stood.
But he gave no sign, except that all his smile was swallowed up by the
fierce fires burning deep down in his dark eyes.

The dance hall revel at the Elysian Fields was in full swing. The
garish brilliancy of the scene was in fierce contrast with the night
which strove to hide the meanness prevailing beyond Pap Shaunbaum's
painted portals. The filthy street, the depth of slush, melting under
a driving rain, which was at times a partial sleet. The bleak, biting
wind, and the heavy pall of racing clouds. Then the huddled figures
moving to and fro. Nor were they by any means all seeking the
pleasures their money could buy. The "down-and-outs" shuffled through
the uncharitable city day and night, in rain, or sunshine, or snow.
But at night they resembled nothing so much as the hungry coyotes of
the open, seeking for that wherewith to fill their empty bellies. The
knowledge of these things only made the scenes of wanton luxury and
vice under the glare of light the more offensive.

It was the third night of Alec Mowbray's last two weeks in Leaping
Horse. How he had fared in his settlement of affairs with the woman
who had taken possession of his moral being was not much concern of any
one but himself. Neither Kars nor Bill Brudenell had heard of any
contemplated change in his plans. They had not heard from him at all.

Nor was this a matter for their great concern. Their concern was Pap
Shaunbaum and the passing of the days of waiting while their outfit was
being prepared at the camp ten miles distant from the city, for their
invasion of Bell River. T