dare do eet. He is wan devil. He's count all de carabine on dis pos',
an' w'en he is mees wan, he fin' out purty queek who is tak' heem."

"Steal one from someone else," suggested Trent.

"He fin' out jess sam'," objected the half-breed, obstinately. "You
don' know heem. He mak' you geev yourself away, when he lak' do dat."
The smile had left the man's face. This was evidently too serious a
matter to be taken lightly.

"Well, come with me, then," urged Ned Trent, with some impatience. "A
thousand dollars I'll give you. With that you can be rich somewhere
else."

But the man was becoming more and more uneasy, glancing furtively from
left to right and back again, in an evident panic lest the
conversation be overheard, although the nearest dwelling-house was a
score of yards distant.

"Hush," he whispered. "You mustn't talk lak' dat. Dose ole man fin'
you out. You can' hide away from heem. Ole tam long ago, Pierre
Cadotte is stole feefteen skin of de otter--de sea-otter--and he is
sol' dem on Winnipeg. He is get 'bout t'ousand beaver--five hunder'
dollar. Den he is mak' dose longue voyage wes'--ver' far wes'--_on
dit_ Peace Reever. He is mak' heem dose cabane, w'ere he is leev long
tam wid wan man of Mackenzie. He is call it hees nam' Dick Henderson.
I is meet Dick Henderson on Winnipeg las' year, w'en I mak' paddle on
dem Factor Brigade, an' dose High Commissionaire. He is tol' me wan
night pret' late he wake up all de queeck he can w'en he is hear wan
noise in dose cabane, an' he is see wan Injun, lak' phantome 'gainst