after McGinty's heart!"

"What, does he hate the police too?"

Scanlan burst out laughing. "You go and see him, my lad," said he as
he took his leave. "It's not the police but you that he'll hate if you
don't! Now, take a friend's advice and go at once!"

It chanced that on the same evening McMurdo had another more pressing
interview which urged him in the same direction. It may have been that
his attentions to Ettie had been more evident than before, or that they
had gradually obtruded themselves into the slow mind of his good German
host; but, whatever the cause, the boarding-house keeper beckoned the
young man into his private room and started on the subject without any
circumlocution.

"It seems to me, mister," said he, "that you are gettin' set on my
Ettie. Ain't that so, or am I wrong?"

"Yes, that is so," the young man answered.

"Vell, I vant to tell you right now that it ain't no manner of use.
There's someone slipped in afore you."

"She told me so."

"Vell, you can lay that she told you truth. But did she tell you who it
vas?"

"No, I asked her; but she wouldn't tell."

"I dare say not, the leetle baggage! Perhaps she did not vish to
frighten you avay."

"Frighten!" McMurdo was on fire in a moment.

"Ah, yes, my friend! You need not be ashamed to be frightened of him. It
is Teddy Baldwin."

"And who the devil is he?"

"He is a boss of Scowrers."

"Scowrers! I've heard of them before. It's Scowrers here and Scowrers
there, and always in a whisper! What are you all afraid of? Who are the
Scowrers?"

The boarding-house keeper instinctively sank his voice, as everyone did
who talked about that terrible society. "The Scowrers," said he, "are
the Eminent Order of Freemen!"

The young man stared. "Why, I am a member of that order myself."

"You! I vould never have had you in my house if I had known it--not if
you vere to pay me a hundred dollar a veek."

"What's wrong with the order? It's for charity and good fellowship. The
rules say so."

"Maybe in some places. Not here!"

"What is it here?"

"It's a murder society, that's vat it is."

McMurdo laughed incredulously. "How can you prove that?" he asked.

"Prove it! Are there not fifty murders to prove it? Vat about Milman and
Van Shorst, and the Nicholson family, and old Mr. Hyam, and little
Billy James, and the others? Prove it! Is there a man or a voman in this
valley vat does not know it?"

"See here!" said McMurdo earnestly.