Murray's voice was sharp.

"We don't stop around." Again Bill's reply came on the instant, and in
tones that were coldly discouraging.

"But I guess I need to collect things. My papers. Kit. I've a right
that way. You can't deny it," Murray protested swiftly.

"You got no rights in this layout." It was Kars who replied. "You'll
pass right on down the river for Leaping Horse. And you aren't
stopping on the way to pay calls. Guess the p'lice in Leaping Horse
will allow you your rights. But there's nothing doing that way till
you're quit of this outfit."

His decision was coldly final, but it was a blow in the face which the
murderer refused to accept.

"You can't act that way," he protested fiercely. "You got a charge
against me you haven't proved, and I don't guess you ever will prove.
I'm a prisoner by force, not by law. I demand the right to decent
treatment. I need to get papers from the Fort. There's things there
to help my case. Maybe you figger to beat me through holding me from
my rights. It would rank well with the way you've already acted. I
need to see Father Jose and Mrs. Mowbray and Jessie----"

"Cut that right out!" Kars' words came with a vicious snap. "You'll
see no one till you're in the hands of the Mounted P'lice at Leaping
Horse. That goes. I don't care a cuss for the law of this thing.
We'll fix that all later."

Murray's burning eyes were furious as they searched the unyielding
features of his captor. His absolute impotence drove him to an insane
desire for violence. But the violence was not forthcoming. He was
powerless, and no one knew it better than he.

"We surely will," he cried, hoarse with passion. "You can't prove a
thing. Allan was murdered by the neches. I was at the Fort with the
rest. You know that. Others can prove it."

The fierce anger which the mention of Jessie's name had set leaping in
Kars' brain subsided as swiftly as it had risen. He sat silent for
some moments regarding the storm-swept features of the man whose crimes
had devastated the life of the girl he loved. His anger changed to an
added loathing. And his loathing inspired a desire to hurt, to hurt
mortally.

This man as yet knew nothing of the discovery of his second crime. The
time had come when he must realize all that this thing meant to him.
There were weeks of journey yet before him. Kars knew no mercy. The
wild had taught him that mercy was only for the weak, for thos