When Ainley lifted a white, tortured face, it was to find the man whom he had used as a tool, and whom, having used, he had tried to kill, seated by the fire, staring at him with his evil eyes full of hate. The others also sat watching him, all except Helen who had to the shadow of the wood, and was walking restlessly to and fro, unable to witness further the downfall of a man whom she had known so well. For a moment there was silence, then Anderton .  
"Would you like to hear Chigmok's story, Ainley?"
 
"There is no need that I should," answered Ainley with a bitter, hopeless laugh. "I can guess it fairly well."
 
The mounted policeman was silent for a little time, then he remarked: "The implications of his story are rather serious for you, Ainley."
 
"Oh, I know it, don't I?"
 
"Then you admit——"
 
"I admit nothing! I reserve my defence—that's the proper legal thing to do, isn't it?"
 
"It is the wise thing, anyway," said Anderton.
 
"The wise thing," again the bitter mirthless laugh sounded. "When did I ever do the wise thing? I suppose I may consider myself under arrest."
 
"Detained on suspicion," admitted the policeman. "I think I must trouble you for your pistol and hunting-knife."
 
Once more Ainley laughed his bitter laugh, and unbuckling his belt threw it to the policeman. "It isn't often you arrest an old chum," he said.
 
"No!" agreed Anderton, "thank heaven! But you understand, Ainley, I've no option. If you were my own brother it would be the same. The oath of service is a very one—'without fear or favour or affection of or toward any person. So help me God!' A man can't——"
 
"Oh, you needn't apologize, Anderton, I recognize the situation well enough. Don't mind if I into silence do you? There are some letters I want to write."
 
He unbuttoned his furs and taking out a pocket-book and pencil began to write. Jean Bènard, having fed his dogs, began to prepare a meal for himself. Anderton sat by the fire, staring into the flames, reflecting on the of fate that had selected him of all men in the Mounted Service to be the one to arrest his whilom fellow-student. Stane had turned away and joined Helen, who still paced to and fro in the shadows. Her face, as her lover saw, was full of trouble.
 
"Oh!" she whispered. "It is to watch a man one has known go all to pieces!"
 
"It is certainly very sad," agreed Stane, out of whose heart all suddenly vanished. "I wish that things were not as they are."
 
"Let us try to forget," said Helen with a quick glance towards the fire. "Tell me what happened when you went out of the cabin last night."
 
"Well," answered her lover falling into step by her side, "when I went out, I thought I was certainly going to my death."
 
"Ah, I knew that was in your mind!... But how did you escape?"
 
"It was a narrow thing. An Indian grappled me, and another man was hurrying towards me with an ax. I could not get away, and a third person appeared suddenly with a knife. I thought the knife was meant for me, but it was not. It was meant for my , and he went down and just after—my—my—saviour was killed by the second Indian, who also struck at me, knocking me senseless."
 
"Who was the person with the knife? Someone with Jean Bènard?"
 
"No," answered Stane slowly, "it was the Indian girl, Miskodeed."
 
"Miskodeed!" cried Helen in utter surprise.
 
"Yes! I did not know it at the time, but we found her afterwards, Jean Bènard and I. It was a dreadful discovery. Jean had come back to his cabin, hoping to marry her, and she had died for me!"
 
"Oh," Helen in a sudden accession of grief. "I would have done as much!"
 
"I know," answered Stane quietly.
 
"And last night when you were in the wood together, and I heard your voices, I was jealous of that girl; last night and at other times."
 
"But," said the man, a note of wonder in his voice, "there was no need, Helen. You must know that?"
 
"Oh yes, I know it now. But she was very beautiful and Gerald Ainley had suggested that you—that you——. And I am sure that she loved you. But not more than I, though she died for you!"
 
"I am very sure of that," answered Stane, earnestly, putting his arm about her and trying to comfort her.
 
Helen sobbed convulsively. "I shall always be grateful to her, though I was jealous of her. She saved you—for me—and she was only an Indian girl."
 
"She had a heart of gold," said Stane. "She came to warn me and then stayed to do what she did!" Both were silent for a long time, the girl thinking of Miskodeed in her flashing beauty, the other of Jean, over the cold face of his dead love, and then Helen spoke again.
 
"But tell me! The attack on the cabin, was that man who captured me—that man Chigmok—was he the inspirer of that?"
 
"I am afraid not!"
 
"Then it was Gerald Ainley who was to pay the price for me that the half-breed told me of, and that is why he so when Chigmok came along just now?"
 
"Yes," answered Stane, simply.
 
"But why did he shoot down Chigmok's party?"
 
"Well, I think it was to get rid of witnesses who might rise up against him. You must remember that he would be under the impression that I was dead—killed in the attack, and that was a crime that might some day have come to light if those men had lived. The pretended rescue was a sufficient excuse for getting rid of the men who knew the , particularly of the half-breed."
 
"Yes," said Helen thoughtfully. "An idea of that sort had occurred to me from something that Chigmok had said. But how dreadful it is to think that a man can so to—to——"
 
She broke off without completing her words, and Stane nodded.
 
"There was always a strain in Ainley. But it will go hard with him now, for the half-breed will be merciless. He is the man Anderton was after when he came to the cabin, and his life is on another count. He will not spare the man who him to fresh crime, and then dealt with him."
 
He paused in his walk and looked back towards the fire where Ainley sat writing, with Chigmok at him across the fire, whilst Anderton sat staring abstractedly into the glowing logs. Then a stealthy movement of the half-breed's arrested his attention. The man had thrust his hand into his furs, and as it was withdrawn Stane caught sight of something that gleamed in the firelight. In a flash he saw what was about to happen, and shouted a hurried warning.
 
"Look out, Ainley!"
 
In the same second, the half-breed, swiftly upright, launched himself across the fire at Ainley, knife in hand. The white man who had looked up at Stane's sudden warning was bowled over in the snow with the half-breed on the top of him. The knife was lifted, but never struck, for in that second Anderton also had leaped, and gripping the half-breed's wrist he twisted the knife from his grasp, and flinging it away, dragged the attacker from his victim. By the time Stane had reached the scene, Ainley was up some papers, none the worse for the encounter, whilst Anderton was the half-breed.
 
"You're a nice lot, Chigmok. Winged as you are, I thought you were quite safe. Now you force me to tie you up, ?"
 
He proceeded to do so, whilst Ainley seated himself anew and looked up at Stane. "Thank you, Stane! The warning was more than I deserved from you!" Then he laughed bitterly. "The poor devil isn't to be blamed. I have merited what he meant to do, and you know it might have been the better way—for me."
 
Stane looked at him not knowing what to reply. There was something about Ainley that moved him to sudden pity. He looked like a man who had reached the end of hope and life, and his words were those of a man viewing his own end as a matter of no moment. "I'm sorry, Ainley!" said Stane awkwardly.
 
"So am I! But what's the use? There's no going back in life; a man can only go forward or——"
 
"Or what?" asked Stane.
 
"Or go out!" answered the other grimly.
 
"You are thinking of——"
 
"Better for you not to know, Stane. I'm going to do the straight thing for once in my life, as you will discover presently. Don't you worry about me. I am at the end of things and I know it. But don't communicate any suspicions you may happen to have to Anderton. He has set up that precious duty of his as a fetish, worships it, as you heard. Think of Dandy Anderton of the old days on his knees at the of duty!" He gave a little laugh, and then continued, "But I don't want to be offered on his altar, and I won't be. You can bank on that!" He broke off and looked towards Helen, on the edge of the shadows. "If you've any sense, Stane, you'll go and persuade Helen to lie down and rest, she must be worn out by now!"
 
Stane nodded and turned away, and after a little m............