the slumbering fires that knew no
law but the knife, no restraint but fear.

Torrance looked up at the shadow in the doorway.

"Hey? Where did you come from?"

"Yuh sent fer me, didn't yuh?"

"I thought you were down bossing the Koppy job."

"Sartin. We jest was through when he tol' me."

"But Conrad only got down there; I saw him." Torrance squinted sternly
at the halfbreed.

Mavy nodded. "I come by the trestle."

"The h--you did!"

The halfbreed shrugged his shoulders. The contractor examined him with
renewed interest.

"How'd you like to be an underforeman?"

Again the wide, sloping shoulders shrugged.

"Say, you don't mean you'd turn down an extra dollar a day?"

"Koppy's underforeman, ain't he?" The halfbreed spat with disgust, and
Torrance chuckled sympathetically.

"If I did that every time I felt like it about Koppy, I'd be as dry as
a camp-meeting in three days. You're not afraid of him, are you?"

Mavy grinned.

"Because Koppy's going to be some busy for the next few weeks hanging
out under that trestle, and we'll need another underforeman perhaps."

The squinting eyes took on a sudden gleam, even a keen anticipation
that could not escape the contractor's attention.

"An' wud I be bossin' 'em about, them bohunks? Wud yuh let me do as I
liked?"

"Well," smiled Torrance, "not quite what you liked; you'd be under the
foreman and me, you know."

The halfbreed sighed. "That's allus the way. Suthin's allus foolin'
me. 'Cause ef yuh'd gi' me a free hand thar'd be a dozen er so less
bohunks the fus' night fer supper. I jes' natcherl hate hidin' my
feelin's." He repeated the sigh more hopelessly. "Yuh'd never git the
work did; thar ain't bohunks enough in the world."

Torrance clutched his hand; here in an unexpected quarter was a man to
his liking.

"If I could," he whispered, "I'd make you foreman this instant, and
round up all the bohunks out of jail. But that ain't what I want you
for. Are you a real Indian?"

"Naw," drawled Mavy. "I'm a Chinee, with a bit o' Pole thrown in."

Torrance showed he could appreciate humour like that. "I mean, can you
follow a trail?"

The halfbreed's eyes danced. "Take a run in the bush," he said
proudly, "an' to-morrow I'll take yuh over it agin t' the foot. Kin I
foller a trail! Gor-swizzle! It's wot I done most o' my born days."

The contractor ruminated. Much as he dreaded the interference of the
Police in the matter of the