zement. The man was Bob MacNair! And Chloe noticed that the
Louchoux girl, after one terrified glance into his face, fled
incontinently to the kitchen.

"You! You!" cried Chloe, groping for words.

The man interrupted her gruffly. "This is no time to talk. Corporal
Ripley has been shot. For three days I have burned up the snow getting
him here. He's hard hit, but the bleeding has stopped, and a good bed
and good nursing will pull him through."

As he snapped out the words, MacNair busied himself in removing the
wounded man's blankets and outer garments. Chloe gave some hurried
orders to Big Lena, and followed MacNair into her own room, where he
laid the wounded man upon her bed--the same he, himself, had once
occupied while recovering from the effect of Lapierre's bullet. Then
he straightened and faced Chloe, who stood regarding him with flashing
eyes.

"So you did get away from him after all?" she said, "and when he
followed you, you shot him! Just a boy--and you shot him in the back!"
The voice trembled with the scorn of her words. MacNair pushed roughly
past her.

"Don't be a damn fool!" he growled, and called over his shoulder:
"Better rest him up for three or four days, and send him down to Fort
Resolution. He'll stand the trip all right by that time, and the
doctor may want to poke around for that bullet." Suddenly he whirled
and faced her. "Where is Lapierre?" The words were a snarl.

"So you want to kill him, too? Do you think I would tell you if I
knew? You--you _murderer_! Oh, if I--" But the sentence was cut
short by the loud banging of the door. MacNair had returned into the
night.

An hour later, when she and Big Lena quitted the bedroom, Corporal
Ripley was breathing easily. Her thoughts turned at once to the
Louchoux girl. She recalled the look of terror that had crept into the
girl's eyes as she gazed into the upturned face of MacNair. With the
force of a blow a thought flashed through her brain, and she clutched
at the edge of the table for support. What was it the girl had told
her about the man who had deceived her into believing she was his wife?
He was a free-trader! MacNair was a free-trader! Could it be----

"No, no!" she gasped--"and yet----"

With an effort she crossed to the door of the girl's room and, pushing
it open, entered to find her cowering, wide-eyed between her blankets.
The sight of the beautiful, terrorized face did not need the
corroboration of