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His passions were aflame, and his bemused brain was incapable of reckoning cost. "It's some folks up north," he went on. "They've a secret trade. Lorson needs that trade. He's had 'em trailed, but they're wise, and they've fooled him all the time. He's crazy about it, and " Keeko had risen abruptly from her seat. The movement had rid her of those hideously searching fingers.
Is there any other dirty swine in the North ready to buy the lives of men?" "Life?" "Oh, hell! Yes," the man cried, with a gesture of tolerant impatience. "Of course it's life. Lorson! A hundred thousand dollars! It couldn't be for a thing less than life. It don't rattle me any." Suddenly he flung caution to the winds.
And now the joy of his thought was submerged in the prospect of that moral destruction which the evil scheming of Lorson Harris had brought about. The hopelessness of it all was in simple proportion to the strength and depth of the love and parental affection of the man's heart. But he knew that until the naked truth, however hideous, was revealed he must continue the labours that were his.
Lorson laughed immoderately to hide the effect of the quietly spoken challenge. "That's business, boy. I buy your stuff all you can hand me. But if I can jump into your market, why it's up to me." "It certainly is up to you." The man lit his pipe and pressed down the tobacco with one of his powerful fingers. "It's up to you more than you know. I once sent back one of your boys.
Tough needed no second invitation. He smelt warmth, rest, and there was the promise in his mind of a good "souse." For the time he had had enough of Unaga. He had had enough of his employer, Lorson Harris. He had had enough of snow and ice, and the merciless cold of the twilit trail.
The change in the girl's tone was lost upon him. "Guess not. I'd say no one knows 'em except Tough Alroy and Lorson. They're an outfit carrying on a trade under the name of Brand Marcel Brand " The bench under the girl's moccasined foot crashed to the ground. Instantly she was stooping over it.
There's three months of the season left, and I'm needing a three-thousand-dollar trade with Lorson Harris at Seal Bay. Maybe you don't know what that means?" "Maybe I do," Marcel laughed. "You do?" Keeko was forced to a responsive laugh. "Yes. It means a whole lot," she went on. "And I don't guess we've taken five hundred dollars yet at his price.
"I was telling her of the fire country which I guess she got a peek at last summer from a distance. She was asking to know the trade Lorson Harris was yearning to steal, and the feller Nicol was ready to murder for. She guesses it's most like a fairy yarn." Steve's eyes were steadily regarding the girl's smiling face. He noted the beautiful, frank, wide eyes, the perfect lips that so reminded him
I don't guess they'd mean a thing to the likes of him. They just said, 'Play the darn game. And under them was wrote 'Brand." Kid grinned back into the other's eyes which were alight with malicious delight. "That's the med'cine to hand a feller that can understand white not Lorson," the gambler said. "I like that guy that calls himself 'Brand." "Guess he's some boy all right.
No man "on the crook" north of 60° could escape that. Then ? But there was no need to look further in that direction. But this girl, or woman, this Keeko her very name suggested to him the vampire creatures haunting the muddy shores of Seal Bay had discovered Marcel last summer. Marcel, a boy. A boy in years a child in mind. She would be beautiful. Oh, yes, Lorson Harris would see to that.
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