rty Mile and Circle; he knew by heart the
by-laws and rules that governed every town and mining district in the
country; he knew every man and child by name, but, while many of his
friends had prospered, unceasing ill-luck had dogged him. Yet he had
held to honesty and hard work, measuring a man by his ability to swing
an axe or a shovel, and, despite his impecuniosity, regarding theft as
the one crime deserving capital punishment.

"Oh, there's lots of countries worse'n this," he declared. "We may not
be very han'some to the naked eye, and we may not wear our handk'chiefs
in our shirt cuffs, but there ain't no widders and orphans doin' our
washin', and a man can walk away from his house, stay a month, and find
it there when he comes back."

"Those days are past," said Stark, who had joined in the discussion.
"There's too many new people coming in for all of them to be honest."

"They'd better be," said Lee, aggressively. "We ain't got no room for
stealers. Why, I had a hand in makin' the by-laws of this camp myself,
'long with John Gale, and they stip'lates that any person caught
robbin' a cache is to be publicly whipped in front of the tradin'-post,
then, if it's winter time, he's to be turned loose on the ice
barefooted, or, if it's summer, he's to be set adrift on a log with his
shirt off."

"Either one would mean certain death," said a stranger. "Frost in
winter, mosquitoes in summer!"

"That's all right," another bystander declared. "A man's life depends
on his grub up here, and I'd be in favor of enforcing that punishment
to the letter if we caught any one thieving."

"All the same, I take no chances," said Stark. "There's too many
strangers here. Just to show you how I stand, I've put Runnion on guard
over my pile of stuff, and I'll be glad when it's under cover. It isn't
the severity of punishment that keeps a man from going wrong, it's the
certainty of it."

"Well, he'd sure get it, and get it proper in this camp," declared Lee;
and at that moment, as if his words had been a challenge, the flaps of
the great tent were thrust aside, and Runnion half led, half threw a
man into the open space before the bar.

"Let's have a look at you," he panted. "Well, if it ain't a nigger!"

"What's up?" cried the men, crowding about the prisoner, who crouched,
terror-stricken, in the trampled mud and moss, while those playing
roulette and "bank" left the tables, followed by the dealers.

"He's a thief," said Runni