that I am willing to die in
fighting for her. Until now I haven't had the chance. You and your
friends have played a cowardly underhand game, Croisset. You have taken
me from behind at every move, and now it's up to you to square yourself
a little or there's going to be hell to pay. Understand? You take me to
Meleese or there'll be a clean-up that will put you and the whole bunch
out of business. _Harm her_--" Again Howland laughed, leaning his white
face toward Jean. "Come, which shall it be, Croisset?"

A cold glitter, like the snap of sparks from striking steels, shot from
the Frenchman's eyes. The grayish pallor went from his face. His teeth
gleamed in the enigmatic smile that had half undone Howland in
the fight.

"You are mistaken in some things, M'seur," he said quietly. "Until
to-day I have fought for you and not against you. But now you have left
me but one choice. I will take you to Meleese, and that means--"

"Good!" cried Howland.

"La, la, M'seur--not so good as you think. It means that as surely as
the dogs carry us there you will never come back. _Mon Dieu,_ your death
is certain!"

Howland turned briskly to the stove.

"Hungry, Jean?" he asked more companionably. "Let's not quarrel, man.
You've had your fun, and now I'm going to have mine. Have you had
breakfast?"

"I was anticipating that pleasure with you, M'seur," replied Jean with
grim humor.

"And then--after I had fed you--you were going to kill me, my dear
Jean," laughed Howland, flopping a huge caribou steak on the naked top
of the sheet-iron stove. "Real nice fellow you are, eh?"

"You ought to be killed, M'seur."

"So you've said before. When I see Meleese I'm going to know the reason
why, or--"

"Or what, M'seur?"

"Kill you, Jean. I've just about made up my mind that you ought to be
killed. If any one dies up where we're going, Croisset, it will be you
first of all."

Jean remained silent. A few minutes later Howland brought the caribou
steak, a dish of flour cakes and a big pot of coffee to the table. Then
he went behind Jean and untied his hands. When he sat down at his own
side of the table he cocked his revolver and placed it beside his tin
plate. Jean grimaced and shrugged his shoulders.

"It means business," said his captor warningly. "If at any time I think
you deserve it I shall shoot you in your tracks, Croisset, so don't
arouse my suspicions."

"I took your word of honor," said Jean sarcastically.

"And I wil