ear what happen. I come for truth."

Torrance, at the first sound, had slipped the bandage and lowered his
shirt sleeve, stained as it was. He brushed the other two aside and
filled the doorway. A sudden disgust filled him lest the Pole should
enter.

"You know the truth already, you skunk! You knew what would happen
before it happened--or you thought you did. I guess I disappointed a
few of you."

"I find Lefty with sore head and I ask why. I make them tell. My men
tell when I command. He say--"

"I don't care a tinker's cuss what he say. It's what _I_ say counts on
this job."

"Did they hurt boss?" Koppy's voice was servilely anxious. "Lefty
tell me Morani stab."

Torrance laughed contemptuously. He was stroking his moustache with
the injured hand; now he threw both arms out and repeated the sneering
laugh.

"Chico's knife is more dangerous to himself than to me." He turned
back and picked up the stiletto from the table. "Here"--tossing it on
the ground before the Pole--"tell him he dropped his needle in his
hurry; and I guess he didn't want to come back for it. It's no use to
me. Your five hundred Chicos, with all their knives and
knuckle-dusters, can't come up here and give orders."

"I fire them to-night," promised Koppy.

"No, you won't." Torrance's mind was working with unusual celerity.
"They got what was coming to them from my fists this time. Next time
they'll need a doctor--or an undertaker. Besides, it's not your
business to fire. That's all. Good-night."

"Ignace Koppowski hope young missus not frightened," came the voice
from the darkness.

"Why should she be? There ain't enough men in the camp to hurt her.
If you doubt it, refer to Werner and Morani."

Koppowski coughed. "Indian strong man. Indian save your life. Godd!
But he hurt my men. Indian look out. They never forget. You tell
him?"

"Tell him yourself," jerked the contractor. "And I'd like to be around
when you're at it. I fancy he can look after himself."

"Indian need to," said Koppy from the darkness.

CHAPTER XVI

THE HEART OF A HALFBREED

Blue Pete glided in and tossed aside the blanket of his Indian disguise
with a gesture of irritability. With a petulant kick his beaded
moccasins struck the ceiling of the cave, and, sighing, he sank his
feet into the more familiar high-heeled cowboy boots.

Mira, moving busily about the camp stove in a recess, noted it all
without turning her hea