unt, he
thought it as well to take a look round. He hardly knew what he expected
to find out--if anything. But he required information of Retief, and he
was fully alive to the fact that all that individual's movements would
be known here. He trusted to luck to help him to discover something.

The smartest of men have to work against overwhelming odds in the
detection of crime. Many and devious are the ways of men whose hand is
against the law. Surely is the best detective a mere babe in the hands
of a clever criminal. In this instance the very thing that Horrocks was
in search of was about to be forced upon him. For underlying that
information was a deep-laid scheme.

Never can reliance be placed in a true half-breed. The heathen Chinee is
the ideal of truth and honesty when his wiles are compared with the dark
ways of the Breed. Horrocks, with all his experience, was no match for
the dusky-visaged outcast of the plains. Gautier had been deputied to
convey certain information to Lablache by the patriarchs of the camp.
And with his native cunning he had decided, on the appearance of
Sergeant Horrocks, to extort a price for that which it was his duty to
tell. Besides this, as matters had turned out, Horrocks was to receive
gratis that for which he would shortly pay Gautier.

He had made an almost complete circuit of the camp. Accustomed as he was
to such places, the stench of it almost made him sick. He came to a
stand close beside one of the outlying teepees. He was just preparing to
fill his pipe and indulge in a sort of disinfecting smoke when he became
aware of voices talking loudly close by. The sound proceeded from the
teepees. From force of habit he listened. The tones were gruff, and
almost Indian-like in the brevity of expression. The language was the
bastard jargon of the French half-breed. For a moment he was doubtful.
Then his attention became riveted.

"Yes," said one voice, "he is a good man, is Peter. When he has plenty
he spends it. He does not rob the poor Breed. Only the gross white man.
Peter is clever. Very."

Then another voice, deep-toned and full, took up the eulogy.

"Peter knows how to spend his money. He spends it among his friends. It
is good. How much whisky will he buy, think you?"

Another voice chipped in at this point, and Horrocks strained his ears
to catch the words, for the voice was the voice of a female and her
utterance was indistinct.

"He said he would pay for everything--a