with interest; and when his
glass had been filled he said, thoughtfully: "This thing isn't according
to Hoyle. There's never been any trouble just like it in the Valley
before. What's that McGann said about the lady being his wife? If it's
the case, where hev we been in the show? Where was we when the license
was around? It isn't good citizenship, and I hev my doubts."

Another miner, known as the Presbyterian, added: "There's some
skulduggery in it, I guess. The lady has had as much protection as if
she was the sister of every citizen of the place, just as much as Lady
Jane here (Lady Jane, the daughter of the proprietor of the Saints'
Repose, administered drinks), and she's played this stacked hand on us,
has gone one better on the sly."

"Pierre," said King Kinkley, "you're on the track of the secret, and
appear to hev the advantage of the lady: blaze it--blaze it out."

Pierre rejoined, "I know something; but it is good we wait until ten
o'clock. Then I will show you all the cards in the pack. Yes, so, 'bien
sur.'"

And though there was some grumbling, Pierre had his way. The spirit
of adventure and mutual interest had thrown the French half-breed, the
Irishman, and the Hon. Just Trafford together on the cold side of the
Canadian Rockies; and they had journeyed to this other side, where the
warm breath from the Pacific passed to its congealing in the ranges.
They had come to the Pipi field when it was languishing. From the moment
of their coming its luck changed; it became prosperous. They conquered
the Valley each after his kind. The Honourable--he was always called
that--mastered its resources by a series of "great lucks," as Pierre
termed it, had achieved a fortune, and made no enemies; and but two
months before the day whose incidents are here recorded, had gone to the
coast on business. Shon had won the reputation of being a "white man,"
to say nothing of his victories in the region of gallantry. He made no
wealth; he only got that he might spend. Irishman-like he would barter
the chances of fortune for the lilt of a voice or the clatter of a
pretty foot.

Pierre was different. "Women, ah, no!" he would say, "they make men
fools or devils."

His temptation lay not that way. When the three first came to the
Pipi, Pierre was a miner, simply; but nearly all his life he had been
something else, as many a devastated pocket on the east of the Rockies
could bear witness; and his new career was alien to his soul