hen
he put his pistol away.

"Wal, that's settled," he said to himself. "The boodle stops right here.
Now we'll see, Jean Leblaude, who's runnin' this layout. Ther's whiskey
aboard that train. Mebbe you ain't like to fergit that. You'll taste
sure. As ye jest sed, 'we'll see.'"

The trader knew his man. The great Jean had all the half-breed's
weaknesses as well as a more than usual supply of their better
qualities. Sober he was more than dangerous, now that he had shown his
real intentions, for he was a man not likely to be turned from his
purpose. But Victor knew his fondness for drink, and herein lay the
kernel of his plan. With him it was a case of now or never. He must
throw everything to the winds for that money, or be burdened with a wife
he did not want, and a brother-in-law he wanted less, with only a third
of that which his greedy heart thirsted for. No, he would measure swords
with Jean, and though his blade was less stout than that of the stolid
giant he relied upon its superior keenness and lightness. He meant to
win.

The company's dog-train came up. Two sleds, each hauled by ten great
huskies. They were laden down with merchandise: groceries, blankets,
implements, medicines and a supply of spirits, for medicinal purposes
only. Just the usual freight which comes to every trader in the wild.
Such stuff as trappers and Indians need and are willing to take in part
payment for their furs. But Victor only cared for the supply of spirits
just then. He paid unusual attention, however, to the condition of the
dogs.

The train was escorted by two half-breeds, one driving each sled. These
were experienced hands, servants who had grown old in the service of the
company. Men whose responsibility began when they hit the trail, and
ceased when they arrived at their destination.

Pierre was a grizzled veteran, and his was the charge of the journey.
Ambrose was his assistant. Victor understood these men, and made no
delay in displaying his hospitality when the work of unloading was
completed. A ten-gallon keg of Hudson's Bay Rum was part of the
consignment, and this was tapped at once by the wily trader.

The four men were gathered in the back room of the store when Victor
turned on the tap and the thick brown stream gurgled forth from the
cask. He poured out a tot for each of the train drivers. Then he stood
uncertainly and looked over at Jean. The latter had seated himself over
against the stove and appeared to t