tate to Victor Gagnon. The trader laughed silently.

Gagnon's plan had come to him in a flash. The moment he had recognized
that the company's dog-train was approaching he had realized the
timeliness of its coming. It would be at his door within an hour and a
half.

Jean's voice calling him broke in upon his meditations. He was about to
pass the summons by unheeded. Then he altered his mind. Better not force
his gaoler to seek him. His eyes might see what he had seen, and his
suspicions might be aroused if he thought that he, Victor, had seen the
dog-train coming and had said nothing. So he turned and obeyed the call
with every appearance of reluctance.

Jean eyed his prisoner coldly as he drew up beside him.

"Wal, I've waited fer you to say as ye'll marry Davi', an' ye ain't had
the savvee to wag yer tongue right, I'm goin' to quit. The snow's goin'
fast. They dogs o' mine is gettin saft fer want o' work. I'm goin' to
light right out o' here, Victor, an' the boodle's goin' wi' me."

Jean was the picture of strong, unimaginative purpose. But Victor had
that in his mind which made him bold.

"Ye've held me prisoner, Jean. Ye've played the skunk. Guess you ain't
goin' now. Neither is my share o' the contents o' that chest. Savvee? If
ye think o' moving that wad we're goin' to scrap. I ain't no coyote."

Jean thought for awhile. His lean face displayed no emotion. His giant
figure dwarfed the trader almost to nothing, but he seemed to weigh the
situation well before he committed himself.

At last he grunted, which was his way of announcing that his decision
was taken.

"I'll have they dogs hitched this afternoon," he said slowly, and with
meaning.

"An' I'll set right here by the door," said Gagnon. "Guess the door'll
let you pass, but it ain't big enough fer the chest to git through."

Victor sat himself down as he said and deliberately pulled out a large
revolver. This he laid across his lap. And then the two men eyed each
other. Jean was in no way taken aback. In fact nothing seemed to put him
out of his deliberate manner. He allowed the challenge to pass and went
out. But he returned almost immediately and thrust his head in through
the doorway.

"Ther' won't be no need fer scrappin' yet awhile," he said. "I 'lows
I've changed my way o' thinkin'. The company's dog-train is comin' up
the valley, I guess. When they've gone, we'll see."

And Victor smiled to himself when the giant had once more departed. T