came mushing up the lean-to where Bill
waited. And the hour had wrought a profound and amazing change in the
man's appearance. He had conscientiously gone to work to cleanse
himself, and he had succeeded. His hair, dull before, was a glossy
dark-brown now; he had shaved off the matted growth about his lips,
leaving only a small, neat mustache; his hair was trimmed and carefully
parted. The man's skin had also resumed its natural shade.

For the first time Bill realized that Harold was really a rather
handsome man. His features were much more regular than Bill's own. The
lips were fine,--just a little too fine, in fact, giving an intangible
but unmistakable hint of cruelty. The only thing that had not changed
was his eyes. They were as smoldering and wolfish as ever.

By Bill's instructions he had loaded his back with blankets, his pistol
was at his belt, and he carried a thirty-five rifle in the hollow of his
arm.

"I'm ready," he said gruffly.

"I'm glad to hear it." Bill glanced at his watch. "It's late, but by
mushing fast we can make it in by dark. I told Virginia that I'd likely
need an extra day at least--she'll think I've worked fast. She'd know
it--if she had seen how you looked an hour ago. I was counting on
finding you somewhere along the Yuga."

"We moved up--a few weeks ago."

"There's one other thing, before we start. I want you to tell these
understrappers of yours to take that squaw and clear out of Clearwater.
Tell 'em to take her back where she belongs--to Buckshot Dan. He'll
take her in, all right. I've been working in Miss Tremont's interests
until now--now I'm working in my own. This happens to be my trapping
country. If I come back in a few weeks and find them still here there's
apt to be some considerable shedding of a bad mixture of bad blood. In
other words--skin out while you yet can."

The half-breeds, understanding perfectly, looked to Harold for
confirmation. The latter had already learned several lessons of
importance this day, and he didn't really care to learn any more. His
answer was swift.

"Go, as he says," Harold directed.

Their dark faces grew sullen. The idea was evidently not to their
favor. Then one asked a question in the Indian vernacular.

Bill was alert at once. Here was a situation that he couldn't handle.
Harold glanced once at his face, saw by his expression that he was
baffled, and answered in the same language. From the tone of his voi