essings of the
harvest. They had no sympathy to waste. These dead creatures were so
much carrion. The battle was the battle for existence which knows
neither pity nor remorse.

So the dead clay was gathered and thrown to its last rest on the bosom
of the waters, to be borne towards the eternal ice-fields of the Pole,
or lie rotting on barren, rock-bound shores, where only the cries of
the wilderness awaken the echoes. There was no reverence, no ceremony.
The perils of existence were too near, too real in the minds of these
men.

With the last of the human sheaves disposed of the real work of the day
began under the watchful eyes of the leaders. The garrison was divided
in half. One-half slept while the other half labored at the defences.
Only the leaders seemed to be denied the ease of body their night's
effort demanded. Picks and shovels were the order of the day, and all
the shortcomings of the defences, discovered during battle, were made
good. The golden "pay dirt" which had drawn the sweepings of Leaping
Horse into the service of John Kars was the precious material of
salvation.

The fortifications rose on all sides. The river front was no longer
neglected. None could say whence the next attack would come. None
could estimate for sure the subtleties of the bastard white mind which
had so long successfully manipulated the secret of Bell River.

Not a man but had been impressed by the battle of the night. Not a man
but knew that the losses in defence had been detrimentally
disproportionate. Life to them was sweet enough. But even greater
than the passionate desire to live was lust for possession of the
treasure upon which their feet trod.

So they worked with a feverish effort. Nothing must be spared.
Nothing neglected that could make for security.

The leaders conferred, and planned. And the result was concrete
practice. Kars was the guiding spirit, and Abe Dodds was the
machine-like energy that drove the labor forward. Bill took no part in
the work. His work lay in one direction only, and it was a work he
carried out with a self-sacrifice only to be expected from him. His
hospital was full to overflowing, and for all his skill, for all his
devotion, five times, during the day, bearers had to be summoned to
carry out the cold remains of one of their comrades.

The question in all minds was a speculation as to whether a fresh
attack would mature on the second night. This speculation was