"I do not remember quite who said it. Well, 'mon ami,' perhaps I lie;
perhaps. Sometimes we dream things, and these dreams are true. You call
it a lie--'bien!' Sergeant Fones, he dreams perhaps Old Aleck sells
whisky against the law to men you call whisky runners, sometimes to
Indians and half-breeds--halfbreeds like Pretty Pierre. That was a dream
of Sergeant Fones; but you see he believes it true. It is good sport,
eh? Will you not take--what is it?--a silent partner? Yes; a silent
partner, Old Aleck. Pretty Pierre has spare time, a little, to make
money for his friends and for himself, eh?"

When did not Pierre have time to spare? He was a gambler. Unlike the
majority of half-breeds, he had a pronounced French manner, nonchalant
and debonair.

The Indian in him gave him coolness and nerve. His cheeks had a tinge of
delicate red under their whiteness, like those of a woman. That was why
he was called Pretty Pierre. The country had, however, felt a kind of
weird menace in the name. It was used to snakes whose rattle gave notice
of approach or signal of danger. But Pretty Pierre was like the death-
adder, small and beautiful, silent and deadly. At one time he had made
a secret of his trade, or thought he was doing so. In those days he was
often to be seen at David Humphrey's home, and often in talk with Mab
Humphrey; but it was there one night that the man who was ha'sh gave him
his true character, with much candour and no comment.

Afterwards Pierre was not seen at Humphrey's ranch. Men prophesied that
he would have revenge some day on Sergeant Fones; but he did not show
anything on which this opinion could be based. He took no umbrage at
being called Pretty Pierre the gambler. But for all that he was
possessed of a devil.