The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-08-17
By JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD
(Continued.)


jeans attitude drew his eyes, The
Frenchman had thrust himself half
out of the screening bushes and was
staring through the telescope of his
hands. With an exclamation he turn
ed quickly to the engineer.
LOOK. m'seur! Do you see that man
climbing the stair? 1 don't mind tell
ing you that he is the one who hit you
over the head on the trail and also
one of those who shut you up in the
coyote. Those are his quarters at the
post, and possibly he is going up to
see Meleese. If you were much of a
shot you could settle a score or two
from here. m'seur."
The figure had stopped. evidently on
platform midway UP the side Of the
building. He stood for moment as if
scanning the plain between him and
the mountain, then disappeared. How
land had not spoken word, but ev-
cry nerve in his body tingled strangely.
You say Meleese-is therer' he
questioned hesitatingly. "And he
who is that man, Croisset?"
Jean shrugged his shoulders and
drew himself back into the bush, turn
ing leisurely toward the old cabin.
Mon, m'seur, 1 will not tell you
that" he protested 81 have brought
you to this place. / have pointed out
to you the stair that leads to the room
where you will find Meleese. You may
cut me into ribbons Cor the ravens, but
/ will tell YOU no more"
Again the threatening fire leaped into
Howland's eyes.
81 will trouble you to put your hands
behind your back, Croisset," he COM
manded. 81 am going to retyCn a GER
tain compliment of yours by tying
your hands with this piece of babeesh,
which you used on me. After that
"And after that, m'seur''- urged
Jean, with touch OF the old taunt in
his voice and stopping with his back
to the engineer and his hands behind
him. after that?'
you will tell me all that want to
know" finished Rowland, Tightening
the thong about his wrists.
He led the way then to the cabin.
The door was closed, but opened readi-
~ as he put his weight against it. The
single room was lighted by a window
through which q mass Of snow had
drifted, and contained nothing more
than a rude table built against one Of
the log walls, three supply boxes that
had evidently been employed as stools,
and a cracked and rust eaten sheet
iron stove that had from all appear
ances long passed into disuse. He
motioned the Frenchman to a seat at
one end of the table. Without word
he then went outside, securely toggled
the leading dog, and returning, closed
the door and seated himself at the
emo of the table opposite Jean.
The light from the open window fell
full on Croisset's dark face and shone
in a sflvery streak along the top of
Howland's revolver as the muzzle of
1t rested casually on a line with the
others breast. There was a menacing
click as the engineer drew back the
hammer
Now, my dear Jean, we're ready to
begin the real game" he explained.
Here we are, high and dry, and down
there-just far enough away to be out
of hearing of this revolver when 1
shoot-are those we're going to play
against. So far I've been completely
in the dark. l know of no reason why
/ shouldn't go down there openly and
be welcomed and given good supper
And yet at the same time I know that
my life wouldn't be worth a red copper
If I did go down. You can clear up
the whole business, and that's what
you're going to do. When I under
stand why I am scheduled to be muir
dered on sight 1 won't be handicapped
as / now am. So go ahead and SPIEL
If you don't I'll blow your head off,"
"You may shoot, m'seur," Jean said
quietly. 81 have sworn on a cross of
the Virgin to tell you no more than I
have"
Slowly Rowland raised his revolver.
"Once more, Croisset-win you tell
me?'
Mon, m'seur"
A de- "ening explosion filed the little
cabin. from the lobe of jeans ear
there ran red trickle of blood. His
face had gone deathly pale. But even
rs the bullet had stung him within an
inch Of his brain he had not flinched.
"Wfl you tell me, Croisset?''
This time the black pit Of the engi-
neer's revolver centered squarely be-
tween the Frenchman's eyes.
mon, m'seur"
The eyes Of the two men met over
the blue steel. With a cry Rowland
slowly lowered his weapon.
Good God, but you're a brave man,
Jean Croissetw he cried. 'rd sooner
Lii a dozen men that I know than
you."
He rose to his feet and went to the
DOOR There was still but little snow
in the air. To the north the horizon
was growing black with the early ap-
proach of the northern light. With q
nervous laugh he returned to Jean.
deuce take it if / don't feel like
apologizing to you," he exclaimed.
'Does your ear hurt?'
mo more than if / had scratched it
with a thorn" returned Jean politely.
"You are good with the pistol, m'seur."
IT zI3uld not pratt hv killing you
S--st now" unused Rowland. seating
himself again on the box and resting
his chin in the palm of his hand as he
looked across at the other. But
y,raffu rood fiop that