fice, where Philip was alone. The young Scotchman's usually florid
face was white. He dropped a curse as he grasped the back of a chair
with both hands. It was the third or fourth time that Philip had heard
MacDougall swear.

"Damn that Thorpe!" he cried, in a low voice.

"What's up?" asked Philip, his muscles tightening.

MacDougall viciously beat the ash from the bowl of his pipe.

"I didn't want to worry you about Thorpe, so I've kept quiet about some
things," he growled. "Thorpe brought up a load of whisky with him. I
knew it was against the law you've set down for this camp, but I
figured you were having trouble enough without getting you into a
mix-up with him, so I didn't say anything. But this other--is damnable!
Twice he's had a woman sneak in to visit him. She's there again
to-night!"

A choking, gripping sensation rose in Philip's throat. MacDougall was
not looking, and did not see the convulsive twitching of the other's
face, or the terrible light that shot for an instant into his eyes.

"A woman--Mac--"

"A YOUNG woman," said MacDougall, with emphasis. "I don't know who she
is, but I do know that she hasn't a right there or she wouldn't sneak
in like a thief. I'm going to be blunt--damned blunt. I think she's one
of the other men's wives. There are half a dozen in camp."

"Haven't you ever looked--to see if you could recognize her?"

"Haven't had the chance," said MacDougall. "She's been wrapped up both
times, and as it was none of my business I didn't lay in wait. But
now--it's up to you!"

Philip rose slowly. He felt cold. He put on his coat and cap, and
buckled on his revolver. His face was deadly white when he turned to
MacDougall.

"She is over there to-night?"

"Sneaked in not half an hour ago, I saw her come out of the edge of the
spruce."

"From the trail that leads out over the plain?"

"Yes."

Philip walked to the door.

"I'm going over to call on Thorpe," he said, quietly. "I may not be
back for some time, Sandy."

In the deep shadows outside he stood gazing at the light in Thorpe's
cabin. Then he walked slowly toward the spruce. He did not go to the
door, but leaned with his back against the building, near one of the
windows. The first shuddering sickness had gone from him. His temples
throbbed. At the sound of a voice inside which was Thorpe's the chill
in his blood turned to fire. The terrible fear that had fallen upon him
at MacDougall's words held him motionless, and h