e human heart, erected firmly on the ashes of savagery.

"Now for Mister Louis Creal!"

It was the situation as he saw it. He by no means underrated the
threat of the Indians. But he drove straight to the root of the
matter. He believed the Indians had been bought body and soul by this
bastard white for his own ends. And his own end was the gold of Bell
River. It was his purpose to destroy all competition. He had murdered
one partner, or perhaps employer. He hoped, no doubt, to treat the
other white man similarly. Now he meant a similar mischief by this new
threat to his monopoly. Kars felt it was characteristic of the bastard
races. Well, he was ready for the fight. He had sought it.

With that first enemy attempt on the plateau events moved rapidly.

But they so moved on Kars' initiative. It was not his way to sit down
at the enemy's pleasure. His was the responsibility for the eighty men
who had responded to his call. He accepted it. He knew it would
demand every ounce of courage and energy he could put forth. His wits
were to be pitted against wits no less. The fate of Allan Mowbray, a
man far beyond the average in courage and capacity among men of the
long trail, told him this. So he had worked, and would work, to the
end.

"The play's started good, boys," he had said to his white companions on
his return to the camp. "The gold can wait, I guess, till we've wiped
out this half-breed outfit. It's a game I know good, an' I'm going to
play it for a mighty big 'jack-pot.' It's up to you to hand me all I
need. After that the gold's open to all."

Then he detailed the various preparations to be made at once, and
allotted to each man his task. He spoke sharply but without urgency.
And the simplicity of his ideas saved the least confusion. It was only
to Bill that his plans seemed hardly to fit with that cordial
appreciation which he had given expression to on the plateau. "Now for
Mister Louis Creal." So he had said. Yet all the plans were defensive
rather than offensive.

Later this doubt found expression.

"What about Louis Creal?" Bill asked in his direct fashion.

And Kars' reply was a short, hard laugh.

"That feller's for me," he replied shortly.

That night a second trip was made across the river. This time with a
canoe laden with a small party of armed men. It was Kars who led,
while Bill remained behind in command of the camp.

This mission was one of remorseless purpose