The upward glow of the lantern heightened the young man's pallor, and
again the squaw broke into her sad lament.

"John Gale--he's gone away with the knife of my father. I am afraid--I
am afraid."

Burrell forced himself to speak calmly; this was no time to let his
wits stampede.

"How long ago?"

"Long time."

"Did he come back here just now?"

"No; he went to the jail-house, and he would not let me follow. He don'
come back no more."

This was confusing, and Meade cried, angrily:

"Why didn't you give the alarm? Why didn't you come to me instead of
yelling your lungs out around the house?"

"He told me to wait," she said, simply.

"Go find Poleon, quick."

"He told me to wait," she repeated, stoically, and Burrell knew he was
powerless to move her. He saw the image of a great terror in the
woman's face. The night suddenly became heavy with the hint of
unspeakable things, and he grew fearful, suspecting now that Gale had
told him but a part of his story, that all the time he knew Stark's
identity, and that his quarry was at hand, ready for the kill; or, if
not, he had learned enough while standing behind that partition. Where
was he now? Where was Necia? What part did she play in this? Stark's
parting words struck Burrell again like a blow. This life-long feud was
drawing swiftly to some tragic culmination, and somewhere out in the
darkness those two strong, hate-filled men were settling their scores.
All at once a fear for the trader's life came upon the young man, and
he realized that a great bond held them together. He could not think
clearly, because of the dread thing that gripped him at thought of
Necia. Was he to lose her, after all? He gave up trying to think, and
fled for Stark's saloon, reasoning that where one was the other must be
near, and there would surely be some word of Necia. He burst through
the door; a quick glance over the place showed it empty of those he
sought, but, spying Poleon Doret, he dragged him outside, inquiring
breathlessly:

"Have you seen Gale?"

"Have you seen Stark? Has he been about?"

"Yes, wan hour, mebbe two hour ago. W'y? Wat for you ask?"

"There's the devil to pay. Those two have come together, and Necia is
gone."

"Necia gone?" the Canadian jerked out. "Wat you mean by dat? Were she's
gone to?"

"I don't know--nobody knows. God! I'm shaking like a leaf."

"Bah! She's feel purty bad! She's go out by herse'f. Dat's all right."

"I tell you somethi