appily. An inborn decency craved to teach these
brutes decency in the only way he knew.

All day long he fought a crowding impatience. He had early come to the
decision to keep Mira in the dark. She would take the threatened
attack more seriously than it deserved, and perhaps forestall his
plans--probably run to the Police right away. Besides, he did not want
her to be involved in the battle that promised.

Certain fantastic schemes popped in and out of his head during the day,
and one of them he discussed with Mira, without letting her know its
immediate origin. If he shot the leaders of the bohunks
himself--picked them off from hiding, as he easily could--trouble would
cease. The work would run through to completion with greater certainty
and speed, and he and Mira would be starting back for freedom in a
fortnight. But Mira killed the plan in a few words; Blue Pete was ever
apt to ignore the law in his dislike of certain forms of lawlessness.

At one stage he thought it would be sufficient to appear at Torrance's
shack just before the attack and add his rifle to the defence.

On the other hand, were the story taken to the Police they would ignore
everything in the pursuit of the leaders of the promised battle; and
that might well mean the postponement of the completion of the trestle
to the following summer. And Blue Pete could not face that. Besides,
those rifles must be captured.

The halfbreed accordingly determined to make his report to Torrance,
and if the contractor treated it too lightly, he could then inform the
Police.

With that in view he set out late in the evening for the trestle. He
had delayed until the shadows were deep enough to protect him from
prying eyes. Mahon's evident suspicions demanded extra precautions in
approaching the shack. For no reason of which he was conscious he
chose to follow the edge of the river bank.

By the time he reached the height overhanging the camp the lighted
canvas and open doorways were brilliant spots in the darkness. Yet
instantly he experienced a feeling of discomfort. And feelings like
that were always his guiding motives. He could not explain the cause
of his worry, for the sounds of camp life seemed little less than
usual, but he paused a long time above the dotted scene, eyes and ears
alert. Feverishly he sought Koppy's shack. When he found it empty,
the light burning and the door open, he dropped back into the shrubbery
and began to clim