meant to marry her." Fyles suddenly swung round. "Keep your place, blast
you, Mallory, and keep your morals too. One'd think you were a
missionary." Then with a sudden burst of anger: "Damn it all, if my men
don't stand by me against a pack of treacherous Indians, I'd better get
out."

"Your men will stand by you, sir: no fear. I've served three traders
here, and my record is pretty clean, Mr. Fyles. But I'll say it to your
face, whether you like it or not, that you're not as good a judge of the
Injin as me, or even Duc the cook: and that's straight as I can say it,
Mr. Fyles."

Fyles paced up and down in anger--not speaking; but presently threw up
the glass, and looked towards Athabasca's lodge. "They're gone," he said
presently; "I'll go and see them to-morrow. The old fool must do what I
want, or there'll be ructions."

The moon was high over Fort Pentecost when Athabasca entered the silent
yard. The dogs growled, but Indian dogs growl without reason, and no one
heeds them. The old chief stood a moment looking at the windows, upon
which slush-lights were throwing heavy shadows. He went to Fyles' window:
no one was in the room. He went to another: Mallory and Duc were sitting
at a table. Mallory had the epaulettes, looking at them and fingering the
hooks by which Athabasca had fastened them on. Duc was laughing: he
reached over for an epaulette, tossed it up, caught it and threw it down
with a guffaw. Then the door opened, and Athabasca walked in, seized the
epaulettes, and went swiftly out again. Just outside the door Mallory
clapped a hand on one shoulder, and Duc caught at the epaulettes.

Athabasca struggled wildly. All at once there was a cold white flash, and