He had explained the situation in his own lurid but limited language to Abe Dodds, and the assistance needed had been promptly forthcoming. The whole enterprise, the capture of the prisoners, the burning of Louis Creal's store, had been carried out without the Indian's obtaining an inkling of that which was going forward.

And, curiously enough, by far his most anxious time had been the safe return from his raid on Louis Creal's store, with his prisoners. Peigan Charley had been unfailing. The Indian had reached the camp and found it secure. There had been no attack in his absence.

I'd say Louis Creal's got them well primed." "Yes." Kars glanced round the hut. And a half smile lit his eyes at the meagre condition of the place. Bill's bed occupied one side of it. His own the other. Between the two stood a packing case on end, which served as a table. A bucket of drinking water stood in a corner with a beaker beside it.

He's been running them in some sort of partnership with the men at the Fort. He was Allan's partner, if I'm wise to anything. He was Allan's partner and Murray's. And Allan was murdered right here. He was murdered by these poor darn neches. And the brain behind them was Louis Creal's. Do you get it now? Oh, it's easy. That half-breed's turned, as they always turn when it suits them.

Maybe they're going to hand us Louis Creal's bluff. Well, I guess we're calling any old bluff. If they're looking for what they can locate of our preparations they'll find all they need. They'll get an elegant tale to hand Louis Creal when they get back." Five minutes later the capacity of the hut was taxed to its utmost. Kars was seated on the side of his bed.

This feller, Creal, located us, and figgers to wipe us off his slate. See? Say, Bill, I guessed long ago Bell River was going to hand us some secrets. I guessed it would tell us how Allan Mowbray died. Well, Louis Creal's going to pay. He's going to pay good. Murray's wise. Gee, I can't but admire. Another feller would have shouted.