al about yourself," Seth went on
presently. "I'll just mention that Nevil Steyne ain't your real name, an'
it wouldn't take me guessin' long to locate the other. That's as mebbe.
You're a skunk," he proceeded, without raising his voice. "You're wuss'n a
yaller dawg, but even a yaller dawg mostly has an option. That's how it is
wi' you, seein' you're o' that breed. I ain't no feelin' o' mercy for you
anyways, but I'll give you a chance. Ef you stay right here ther's the
courts as 'll hang you sure; ef you quit, ther's the Injuns as you've
lived by, an' as you fooled to suit your own dirty schemes. I don't see as
ther's a great choice for you. Your game's played, an' you're goin' to
cash in, an' it kind o' seems to me you've got to pay anyways. Wal, you'll
choose right now."

Nevil had sat up while the other was speaking. He gave no outward sign
beyond that one movement. Now he slowly rose to his feet and looked down
upon the set face of the arbiter of his fate a little uncertainly. He
turned from him to the Agent, who was looking on in no little puzzlement.
Then his eyes came back to the relentless face of Seth, and he seemed to
be struggling to penetrate the sphinx-like expression he beheld.

He scented danger, he knew there was danger. But even so his mind was made
up. He would not face the jury of his white brothers. He believed he
understood the Indians, and saw chances in this direction. But there was
the wonder why Seth had given him the chance. He had no time to debate the
question. His answer was needed.

"I'll go back to the Indians," he said, with a hateful laugh, in which
there was no semblance of mirth. "As you suggest, a yellow dog can always
run for it."

"Jest so. It ken allus run."

Then the full bitterness of his position swept over the renegade, and a
deep rage stirred the hatred he held for this man who had outwitted him at
every turn, and now was in a position to pronounce sentence upon him. And
his words came low with concentrated fury.

"Yes, blast you, you can sneer! But I tell you you're making a mistake. I
can twist the Indians around my finger. Bah, I care nothing for them! I
shall get clear and save myself, and, as sure as there's a hell for the
damned, you shall pay!"

But the man he addressed remained undisturbed. His manner was
imperturbable. He nodded gravely.

"Good," he said. "Now git--git quick!"

And the man who posed as Nevil Steyne passed out of the hut and out of the
fort,