he little clearing,--and the cabin.
Ba'tiste already was within.

Houston avoided the figure on the bed as he entered and dropped beside
the older man, already dragging forth the drawers of the bureau and
pawing excitedly among the trinkets there. He gasped and pulled forth
a string of beads, holding them trembling to the light, and veering
from his jumbled English to a stream of French. Then a watch, a ring,
and a locket with a curly strand of baby hair. The giant sobbed.

"My Pierre--eet was my Pierre!"

"What's that?" Houston had raised suddenly, was staring in the
direction of an old commode in the corner. At the door the wolf-dog
sniffed and snarled. Ba'tiste, bending among the lost trinkets that
once had been his wife's, did not hear. Houston grasped him by the
shoulder and shook him excitedly.

"Ba'tiste! Ba'tiste! There's some one hiding--over there in the
corner. I heard sounds--look at Golemar!"

"Hiding? No. There is no one here--no one but Ba'tiste and his
memories. No one--"

"I tell you I heard some one. The commode moved. I know!"

He rose, only to suddenly veer and flatten himself against the wall.
The yellow blaze of aimless revolver fire had spurted from the corner;
then the plunging form of a gnarled, gangling, limping man, who rushed
past Houston to the door, swerved there, and once more raised the
revolver. But he did not fire.

A furry, snarling thing had leaped at him, knocking the revolver from
his hand in its plunging ascent. Then a cry,--a gurgling growl. Teeth
had clenched at the throat of the man; together they rolled through the
door to the snow without, Golemar, his hold broken by the fall,
striving again for the death clutch, the man screaming in sudden
frantic fear.

"Take him off!" The voice of the thin-visaged Fred Thayer was shrill
now. "Take him off--I'll tell you about it--she did it--she did it!
Take him off!"

"Golemar!" Ba'tiste had appeared in the doorway. Below the dog
whirled in obedience to his command and edged back, teeth still bared,
eyes vigilant, waiting for the first movement of the man on the ground.
Houston went forward and stood peering down at the frightened, huddled
form of Thayer, wiping the blood from the fang wound in his neck.

"You'll tell about what?" came with sudden incisiveness.

The man stared, suddenly aware that he had spoken of a thing that had
been mentioned by neither Ba'tiste nor Houston. His lips worked
crooked