its course. A
higher power than man's was governing the actions of the participants in
the Foss River drama.

For the rest of the day "Lord" Bill moved about the settlement in his
customary idle fashion. He visited the saloon; he showed himself on the
market-place. He discussed the doings of Retief with the butcher, the
smith, Dr. Abbot. And, as the evening closed in and the sun's power
lessened, he identified himself with others as idle as himself, and
basked in the warmth of its feeble, dying rays.

When darkness closed in he went to his shack and prepared his evening
meal with a simple directness which no thoughts of coming events could
upset. Bill was always philosophical. He ate to live, and consequently
was not particular about his food. He passed the evening between thought
and tobacco, and only an occasional flashing of his lazy eyes gave any
sign of the trend of his mental effort.

At a few minutes past ten he went into his bedroom and carefully locked
the door. Then he drew from beneath his bed a small chest; it was an
ammunition chest of very powerful make. The small sliding lid was
securely padlocked. This he opened and drew from within several articles
of apparel and a small cardboard box.

Next he divested himself of his own tweed clothes and donned the things
he had taken from the box. These consisted of a pair of moleskin
trousers, a pair of chaps, a buckskin shirt and a battered Stetson hat.
From the cardboard box he took out a tin of greasy-looking stuff and a
long black wig made of horse hair. Stepping to a glass he smeared his
face with the grease, covering his own white flesh carefully right down
to the chest and shoulders, also his hands. It was a brownish ocher and
turned his skin to the copperish hue of the Indian. The wig was
carefully adjusted and secured by sprigs to his own fair hair. This,
with the hat well jammed down upon his head, completed the
transformation, and out from the looking-glass peered the strong, eagle
face of the redoubtable half-breed, Retief.

He then filled the chest with his own clothes and relocked it. Suddenly
his quick ear caught the sound of some one approaching. He looked at his
watch; it wanted two minutes to half-past ten. He waited.

Presently he heard the rattle of a stick down the featheredged boarding
of the outer walls of the hut. He picked up his revolver belt and
secured it about his waist, and then, putting out the light, unlocked
the back door whic