It was a heathenish time of night to arouse the girl, thought Burrell, as he left the barracks, but he must these fears that were him, he must see Necia at once. The low, drifting clouds obscured what star-glow there was in the heavens, and he stepped back to light a lantern. By its light he looked at his watch and exclaimed, then held it to his ear. Five hours had passed since he left 's house. Well, the call was urgent, and Necia would understand his anxiety.  
A few moments later he stood above the squaw, who on the trader's doorstep, her death song into the night. He could not check her; she paid no to him, but only rocked and moaned and chanted that strange, song which somehow gave strength to his fears.
 
"What's wrong; where is Necia? Where is she?" he demanded, and at last seized her roughly, facing her to the light, but Alluna only blinked owlishly at his lantern and shook her head.
 
"Gone away," she finally informed him, and began to weave again in her despair, but he held her fiercely.
 
"Where has she gone? When did she go?" He shook her to quicken her reply.
 
"I don' know. I don' know. Long time she's gone now." She trailed off into Indian words he could not comprehend, so he pushed past her into the house to see for himself, and without knocking flung Necia's door open and stepped into her . Before he had swept the room with his eyes he knew that she had indeed gone, and gone hurriedly, for the signs of betrayed a reckless haste. Hanging across the back of a chair was what had once been the dress, Poleon's gift, now a damp and draggled ruin, and on the floor were two satin and a pair of wet silk stockings. He picked up the lace gown and saw that it was torn from shoulder to waist. What had the girl to rip her garment thus?
 
"She take her 'nother dress; the one I make las' summer," said Alluna, who had followed him in and stood staring as he stared.
 
"When did she go, Alluna? For God's sake, what does this mean?"
 
"I don' know! She come and she go, and I don' see her; mebbe three, four hour ago."
 
"Where's Gale? He'll know. He's gone after her, eh?"
 
The upward glow of the lantern heightened the young man's pallor, and again the squaw broke into her sad .
 
"John Gale—he's gone away with the knife of my father. I am afraid—I am afraid."
 
Burrell forced himself to speak calmly; this was no time to let his wits stampede.
 
"How long ago?"
 
"Long time."
 
"Did he come back here just now?"
 
"No; he went to the jail-house, and he would not let me follow. He don' come back no more."
 
This was confusing, and Meade cried, angrily:
 
"Why didn't you give the alarm? Why didn't you come to me instead of yelling your lungs out around the house?"
 
"He told me to wait," she said, simply.
 
"Go find Poleon, quick."
 
"He told me to wait," she repeated, stoically, and Burrell knew he was powerless to move her. He saw the image of a great terror in the woman's face. The night suddenly became heavy with the hint of unspeakable things, and he grew fearful, suspecting now that Gale had told him but a part of his story, that all the time he knew 's identity, and that his was at hand, ready for the kill; or, if not, he had learned enough while behind that partition. Where was he now? Where was Necia? What part did she play in this? Stark's parting words struck Burrell again like a blow. This life-long was drawing swiftly to some , and somewhere out in the darkness those two strong, hate-filled men were settling their scores. All at once a fear for the trader's life came upon the young man, and he realized that a great bond held them together. He could not think clearly, because of the thing that gripped him at thought of Necia. Was he to lose her, after all? He gave up trying to think, and fled for Stark's saloon, reasoning that where one was the other must be near, and there would surely be some word of Necia. He burst through the door; a quick glance over the place showed it empty of those he sought, but, spying Poleon Doret, he dragged him outside, inquiring breathlessly:
 
"Have you seen Gale?"
 
"Have you seen Stark? Has he been about?"
 
"Yes, hour, mebbe two hour ago. W'y? Wat for you ask?"
 
"There's the devil to pay. Those two have come together, and Necia is gone."
 
"Necia gone?" the Canadian jerked out. "Wat you mean by dat? Were she's gone to?"
 
"I don't know—nobody knows. God! I'm shaking like a leaf."
 
"Bah! She's feel purty bad! She's go out by herse'f. Dat's all right."
 
"I tell you something has happened to her; there's hell to pay. I found her clothes at the house torn to ribbons and all muddy and wet."
 
Poleon cried out at this.
 
"We've got to find her and Gale, and we haven't a minute to lose. I'm afraid we're too late as it is. I wish it was daylight. Damn the darkness, anyhow! It makes it ten times harder."
 
His incoherence alarmed his listener more than his words.
 
"Were have you look?"
 
"I've been to the house, but Alluna is crazy, and says Gale has gone to kill Stark, as near as I can make out. Both of them were at my quarters to-night, and I'm afraid the squaw is right."
 
"But w'ere is Necia?"
 
"We don't know; maybe Stark has got her."
 
The Frenchman cursed horribly. "Have you try hees cabane?"
 
"No."
 
Without answer the Frenchman away, and the sped after him through the rows of log-houses.
 
"Ha! Dere's light," Doret, over his shoulder, as they neared their goal.
 
"Be careful," panted Burrell. "Wait! Don't knock." He forced Poleon to pause. "Let's find out who's inside. Remember, we're working blind."
 
He gripped his companion's arm with fingers of steel, and together they crept up to the door, but even before they had gained it they heard a voice within. It was Stark's. The walls of the house were of moss-chinked logs that deadened every sound, but the door itself was of thin, whip-sawed pine boards with ample cracks at top and bottom, and, the room being of small dimensions, they heard plainly. The Lieutenant leaned forward, then with difficulty an , for he heard another voice now—the voice of John Gale. The words came to him but distinct, and he raised his hand to knock, when, suddenly arrested, he seized Poleon and forced him to his knees, into his ear:
 
"Listen! Listen! For God's sake, listen!"
 
For the first time in his life Ben Stark lost the iron composure that had made his name a by-word in the West, and at sight of his bitterest enemy seated in the dark of his own house waiting for him he became an ordinary, nervous, frightened man faced by a great . It was the utter unexpectedness of the thing that shook him, and before he could his balance Gale :
 
"I've come to settle, Bennett."
 
"What are you doing here?" the gambler .
 
"I was up at the soldier's place just now and heard you. I didn't want any interruptions, so I came here where we can be alone." He paused, and, when Stark made no answer, continued, "Well, let's get at it." But still the other made no move. "You've had all the best of it for twenty years," Gale went on, in his level voice, "but to-night I get even. By God! I've lived for this."
 
"That shot in Lee's cabin?" recalled Stark, with the light of a new understanding. "You knew me then?"
 
"Yes."
 
Stark took a deep breath. "What a damned fool I've been!"
 
"Your devil's magic saved you that time, but it won't stop this." The trader rose slowly with the knife in his hand.
 
"You'll hang for this!" said the gambler, unsteadily, at which Gale's face blazed.
 
"Ha!" exclaimed the trader, ; "you can feel it in your already, eh?"
 
With an effort Stark began to assemble his wits as the trader continued:
 
"You saddled your dirty work on me, Ben Stark, and I've carried it for fifteen years; but to-night I put you out the way you put her out. An eye for an eye!"
 
"I didn't kill her," said the man.
 
"Don't lie. This isn't a grand jury. We're all alone."
 
"I didn't kill her."
 
"So? The yellow is showing up at last. I knew you were a coward, but I didn't think you'd be afraid to own it to yourself. That thing must have lived with you."
 
"Look here," said Stark, , "do you really think I killed Merridy?"
 
"I know it. A man who would strike a woman would kill her—if he had the nerve."
 
Stark had now mastered himself, and smiled.
 
"My hate worked better than I thought. Well, well, that made it hard for you, didn't it?" he . "I supposed, of course, you knew—"
 
"Knew?" Gale's face showed emotion for the first time. "Knew what—?" His hands were quivering slightly.
 
"She killed herself."
 
"So help you God?"
 
"So help me God!"
 
There was a long pause.
 
"Why?"
 
"Say, it's kind of funny our standing here talking about that thing, isn't it? Well, if you want to know, I came home early that night—I guess you hadn't been gone two hours—and the surprise did it, more than anything else, I suppose—she hadn't prepared a story. I got suspicious, named you at , and hit the nail on the head. She broke down, thought I knew more than I did, and—and then there was hell to pay."
 
"Go on."
 
"I suppose I talked bad and made threats—I was crazy over you—till she must have thought I meant to kill her, but I didn't. No. I never was quite that bad. Anyhow, she did it herself."
 
Gale's face was like chalk, and his voice sounded thin and dry as he said:
 
"You beat her, that's why she did it."
 
Stark made no answer.
 
"The papers said the room showed a struggle."
 
When the other still kept silent, Gale insisted:
 
"Didn't you?"
 
At this Stark flamed up .
 
"Well, I guess I had cause enough. No woman except her was ever untrue to me—wife or sweetheart."
 
"You didn't really think—?"
 
"Think hell! I thought so then, and I think so now. She denied it, but—"
 
"And you knew her so well, too. I guess you've ha............