swift thought was passing behind
Victor's dark face. Then slowly, and even solemnly, came words which
gripped the hearts of his two guests.

"It wa'n't no yarn. I see that White Squaw wi' my own two eyes."

Nick started to his feet. The "punch" had fired him almost beyond
control. His face worked with nervous twitchings. He raised one hand up
and swung it forcefully down as though delivering a blow.

"By Gar!" he cried, "then I go an' find her; I go an' see for myself."

And as he spoke a strange expression looked out of Victor's eyes.

Ralph removed his pipe from his lips.

"Good, Nick," he said emphatically. "The dogs are fresh. Guess a long
trail'll do 'em a deal o' good. When'll we start?"

Nick looked across at his brother. He was doubtful if he had heard
aright. He had expected strong opposition from the quiet, steady-going
Ralph. But, instead, the elder man gave unhesitating approval. Just for
one instant there came a strange feeling in his heart; a slight doubt, a
sensation of disappointment, something foreign to his nature and
unaccountable, something which took all pleasure from the thought of his
brother's company. It was quite a fleeting sensation, however, for the
next moment it was gone; his honest nature rose superior to any such
jealousy and he strode across the room and gripped Ralph's hand.

"Say, we'll start at daylight, brother. Jest you an' me," he blurted
out, in the fulness of his large heart. "We'll hunt that white crittur
out, we'll smell her out like Injun med'cine-men, an' we'll bring her
back wi' us. Say, Ralph, we'll treat her like an angel, this dandy,
queer thing. By Gar! We'll find her, sure. Shake again, brother." They
wrung each other forcefully by the hand. "Shake, Victor." And Nick
turned and caught the trader's slim hand in his overwhelming grasp.

His enthusiasm was at boiling point. The brew of essences had done its
work. Victor's swift-moving eyes saw what was passing in the thoughts of
both his guests. And, like the others, his enthusiasm rose. But there
was none of the simple honesty of these men in Victor. The half-breed
cunning was working within him; and the half-breed cunning is rarely
clean.

And so the night ended to everybody's satisfaction. Ralph was even more
quiet than usual. Victor Gagnon felt that the stars were working in his
best interests; and he blessed the lucky and innocent thought that had
suggested to him the yarn of the White Squaw. As for Nick, hi