utiful white broncho behind.
Cameron could not repress an exclamation of disgust as the Indian drew
near him.

"Beautiful beast that," said Raven carelessly, pointing to the white
pony.

Cameron turned his eyes upon the pony and stood transfixed with horror.

"My God!" he exclaimed. "Look at that!" Across the beautiful white
shoulders and reaching down clear to the fetlock there ran a broad
stain, dull red and horrible. Then through his teeth, hard clenched
together, these words came forth: "Some day, by God's help, I shall wipe
out that stain."

The trader shrugged his shoulders carelessly, but made no reply.

CHAPTER V

SERGEANT CRISP

The horror of the day followed Cameron through the night and awoke with
him next morning. Every time his eyes found the Indian his teeth came
together in a grinding rage as he repeated his vow, "Some day I shall
bring you to justice. So help me God!"

Against Raven somehow he could not maintain the same heat of rage. That
he was a party to the murder of the Stonies there was little reason
to doubt, but as all next day they lay in the sunny glade resting the
ponies, or went loping easily along the winding trails making ever
towards the Southwest, the trader's cheerful face, his endless tales,
and his invincible good humour stole from Cameron's heart, in spite of
his firm resolve, the fierceness of his wrath. But the resolve was none
the less resolute that one day he would bring this man to justice.

As they journeyed on, the woods became more open and the trees larger.
Mid-day found them resting by a little lake, from which a stream flowed
into the upper reaches of the Columbia River.

"We shall make the Crow's Nest trail by to-morrow night," said Raven,
"where we shall part; not to your very great sorrow, I fancy, either."

The evening before Cameron would have said, "No, but to my great joy,"
and it vexed him that he could not bring himself to say so to-day with
any great show of sincerity. There was a charm about this man that he
could not resist.

"And yet," continued Raven, allowing his eyes to rest dreamily upon the
lake, "in other circumstances I might have found in you an excellent
friend, and a most rare and valuable find that is."

"That it is!" agreed Cameron, thinking of his old football captain, "but
one cannot make friends with a--"

"It is an ugly word, I know," said Raven. "But, after all, what is a
bunch of furs more or less to those Indians?"