"By G.o.d, that's my Injun! I ain't through with him, yet, an' there ain't no d.a.m.n jade kin carve him up in under my nose."

"An' this here's my woman, too. An' there ain't no d.a.m.n hooch runner kin pull a gun on her, neither!"

"Ain't no harm done," conciliated Claw, "An' I guess they ain't no call to fight over 'em. How about that drink?"

"Git it!" ordered the Captain, and as the cowering Dog Rib slunk from the room, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the knife from the pinioned hand of the girl and hurled it under the bunk:

"An', now you h.e.l.l-cat!" he rasped, pushing her from him, "You set to an' git supper! An' don't go tryin' no more monkey business, er I'll break ye in two! They seems to be grub enough here without usin' none of my own," he added, eying the supplies ranged along the opposite wall, "Who owns this shack, anyhow?"

"Carter Brent owns it," cried the girl, drawing herself erect and glaring into the man's eyes. It was as though the very mention of his name, nerved her to defiance. "And when he returns, he will kill you both--kill you! Do you hear?"

"It's a lie!" roared Claw, then paused, abruptly. "I wonder--maybe it is his shack. He come straight from the Yukon, an' that accounts fer the burnin' in."

"Know him?" asked the Captain.

"Know him!" growled Claw, "Yes, I know him--an' so do you. That's Ace-In-The-Hole's real name."

"The h.e.l.l it is!" cried the Captain, and laughed uproariously. "So that's the way the wind blows! An' the breed's be'n livin' here with him! Things is sure comin' my way! That's most too good to be true--an'

you misrepresentin' her to be a virgin, fresh from a school--ho, ho, ho!"

"What'd you mean?" snarled Claw, "How was I to know----"

"Whether ye know'd, er whether ye didn't, it didn't make no difference--I win either way."

"What d'you mean?" Claw repeated.

"You know what I mean," sneered the Captain, truculently, "Secondhand goods--half price--see?"

"You mean I don't git my other five hundred?" yelled Claw jerking the revolver from his holster and levelling at the Captain's head, "Is that what ye mean?"

Surprised at the suddenness of the action, the Captain was caught off guard, and he stood blinking foolishly into the mouth of the gun: "Well," he faltered, moistening his lips with his tongue, "Mebbe we might kind o' talk it over."

"The only talkin' over you'll git out of me, is to come acrost with the five hundred," sneered Claw.

"Ye know d.a.m.n well I ain't got no five hundred with me. Wait till we git to the _Belva Lou_."

"I'll wait, all right--but not till we git to the _Belva Lou_. Me an'

the girl will wait on sh.o.r.e, in sight of the _Belva Lou_, while you go out an' git the money an' fetch it back--an' you'll come back _alone_ with it. An' what's more--you ain't ahead nothin' on the rum, neither.

'Cause I'm goin' to slip down to the Injun camp in about five minutes, an' the rum goes along. I'll be back by daylight, an' instead of the rum, I'll have all the fur--an' everything else them Dog Ribs has got.

An' I'll git square with that d.a.m.n squaw fer jerkin' that handful of whiskers out of me, too."

"That's all right, Johnnie," a.s.sured the Captain, still with his eyes on the black muzzle of the gun. "Take the rum along--only, we'd ort to split half an' half on that fur."

"Half an' half, h.e.l.l! You got what you come after, ain't you? An' if I kin pick up an honest dollar on the side, that ain't no reason I should split it with you, is it? I'll jest leave you two to git acquainted while I slip down to the camp."

"Go ahead," grinned the Captain, "An' don't hurry back, we'll wait."

"Yer d.a.m.n right you'll wait!" retorted Claw, "I'll have the dogs." In the doorway he paused, "An', by the way, Cap. Don't open that door till I git out of range--see?"

The moment the door closed behind Claw, the Captain placed his back against it and turned to the girl: "Git to work now an' git supper!

We're goin' to hit the back-trail inside an' hour. We kin pack what grub we'll need, an' we'll git most a hull night's start, cause he'll be busy with them Injuns till mornin'."

Snowdrift confronted him with blazing eyes: At the words her blood seemed to freeze within her, leaving her cold and numb with horror. She had heard of the coastal traffic in winter wives, but always it had seemed to her a thing vague and unreal. But now the full hideousness of it stood revealed to her. She herself, at that very moment stood trapped, bought and sold--absolutely in the power of the two bearded beasts, who in the very loathsomeness of their filthy minds, discussed her as they would discuss a piece of merchandise, bargained and haggled over the price of her living body! A single ray of hope had dawned in her breast as the men began to quarrel. If they would only come to blows, and to grip-lock in their rage, she might be able to seize a weapon, or better still dash from the room. Once in the scrub, she could easily elude them. But the hope died when Claw covered the Captain with his gun. And with the hope died also the numbing terror. A strange, unnatural calm took possession of her. There was still one way out--and she would seek that way. As the two men stood facing each other, she had caught a glimpse of the blade of the knife that lay where the Captain had thrown it, beneath the edge of the bunk. Stealthily her moccasined foot had reached out and slid it toward her, and as the door opened upon Claw's departure, she had stooped swiftly and recovered it. She would plunge the blade into her own heart--no, better, she would attack the Captain now that they were alone, and either kill him, or by the very fury of her onslaught, would force him to kill her. So with the knife concealed by her folded arms, her eyes blazed defiance:

"I'll never cook your supper! You dog! You unspeakable devil! I'll kill you first--or you'll kill me!"

"Kill ye, eh?" sneered the man, "Well, I might, at that, if I didn't have five hundred good dollars tied up in ye. Guess they ain't much danger of me killin' ye till I get my money back, one way er another--an' I guess they ain't no one knows that no better'n what you do. An' as fer killin' _me_," he laughed, "You look s.p.u.n.ky 'nough to--but I'm hard to kill--it's be'n tried."

"I've warned you!" cried the girl, "And I'll kill you!"

"Git to work! d.a.m.n ye!" snarled the Captain, "yer losin' time! You cook that supper, er by G.o.d I'll make ye wisht I had killed ye! I'll tame ye!

I'll show ye who's boss! Mebbe you won't be so pretty when I git through with ye--but ye'll be tame!"

The innermost thought of her brain found voice in words, "Oh, if he were here!"

"Hollerin' fer yer man, eh," taunted the Captain, "Ye ain't his'n now, yer mine--an' he won't come cause he's dead----"

"Dead!" The word shrieked from the lips of the tortured girl, "No, no, no!"

"Yes, yes, yes," mocked the man, "He's dead an' froze hard as a capstan bar, somewheres upon the sea ice, an' his Injun, too. Got dead drunk upon the _Belva Lou_, an' started fer sh.o.r.e in the big storm--an' he never got there. So ye might's well make the best of it with me. An'

I'll treat ye right if ye give me what I want. An' if ye don't give it, I'll take it--an' it'll be the worse fer you."

The girl scarcely heard the words. Brent was dead. Her whole world--the world that was just beginning to unfold its beauties and its possibilities to her--to hold promise of the wondrous happiness of which she had read and dreamed, but had never expected to realize--her whole world had suddenly come crashing about her--Brent was dead, and--like a flame of fire the thought flashed across her brain--the man responsible for his death stood before her, and was even now threatening her with a fate a thousand times worse than death.

With a wild scream, animal-like, terrifying in its fury, the girl sprang upon the man like a tiger. He saw the flash of the knife blade in the air, and warding off the blow with his arm, felt the bite and the hot rip of it as it tore into his shoulder. With a yell of pain and rage he struck blindly out, and his fist sent the girl crashing against the table. The force of the impact jarred the chimney from the little oil bracket-lamp, and the light suddenly dimmed to a red flaring half-gloom.

Like a flash the girl recovered herself, and again she flew at the man whose hand gripped the b.u.t.t of his revolver. Again he struck out to ward the blow, and by the merest accident the barrel of the heavy gun struck the wrist of the hand that held the knife hurling it from her grasp, while at the same time his foot tripped her and she crashed heavily to the floor. Before she could get up, the man was upon her, cursing, panting hot fury. Kicking, striking out, clawing like a wild cat, the girl managed to tear herself from his grasp, but as she regained her feet, a huge hand fastened in the neck of her shirt. There was a moment of terrific strain as she pulled to free herself, holding to the stanchion of the bunk for support, then with a loud ripping sound the garment, and the heavy woolen undershirt beneath gave way, and the girl, stripped bare to the waist, stood panting with the table interposed between herself and the man who rose slowly to his feet. At the sight of her, half naked in the dimly wavering light of the flaring wick flame, his look suddenly shifted from mad fury to b.e.s.t.i.a.l desire. Deliberately he picked up the knife from the floor, and without taking his eyes from the girl opened the door and tossed it out into the snow. Then he returned the revolver to its holster and stared gloatingly at the white b.r.e.a.s.t.s that rose and fell convulsively, as the breath sobbed from the girl's lungs. And as she looked into his devouring eyes, abysmal terror once more seized hold of her, for the loathsome desire in those eyes held more of horror than had their blaze of fury.

The man moistened his thick lips, smacking them in antic.i.p.ation, and as he slowly advanced to the table, his foot struck an object that felt soft and yielding to the touch, yet when he sought to brush it aside, it was heavy. He glanced down, and the next instant stooped swiftly and picked up Brent's sack of dust, which the girl had carried inside her shirt. For an instant, greed supplanted the l.u.s.t in his eyes, and he laughed. Long and loud, he laughed, while the girl, pumping the air into her lungs, gained strength with every second. "So here's where he left his dust, is it? It's too good to be true! I pay five hundred fer the girl instead of a thousan', an' all the dust, that Claw'll be up scratchin' the gravel around b.l.o.o.d.y Falls fer next summer. I guess that's poor--five hundred clean cash profit, an' the girl besides!"

The sight of Brent's gold in the man's foul clutch was too much for Snowdrift, and the next instant a billet of stovewood crashed against the wall within an inch of his head. With a low growl, he dropped the sack to the floor and started around the table. In vain the girl cast wildly about for some weapon, as, keeping the table between them, she milled round and round the room. In vain she tried each time she pa.s.sed it, to wrench open the door. But always the man was too quick for her, and when finally, he pushed the table against it, she once more found herself cornered this time without a weapon, and half dead from fatigue.

Slowly, deliberately, the man advanced upon her. When he reached out and touched her bare arm with a thick fingered, hairy hand, she shrieked aloud, and redoubled the fury of her attack, clawing and striking at his face. But, her onslaught was futile. He easily warded off her tiring efforts. Closer and closer he pressed, his eyes aglitter with the fever of l.u.s.t, his thick lips twisted into a gloating grin, until his arms closed slowly about her waist and his body pressed hers backward onto the bunk.

Joe Pete wanted to camp, but Brent would have none of it. The storm thickened. The wind increased in fury, buffeting them about, and causing the dogs to whine and cringe in the harness until it became necessary to fasten a leash to the leader to prevent their bolting. Hopelessly lost though they were, Brent insisted upon pushing on. "The land lies this way," he kept saying, "and we'll strike it somewhere along the coast."

Then he would appeal to the Indian who would venture no opinion whatever, frankly admitting he was lost, and always counseling the making of a camp. Finally, when darkness came they did camp, merely digging into the snow; and tossing blanket and robes and a little food into the pit, crawled in and drew the tarpaulin over them.

Brent slept little that first night. Over and over again he tried to reason out the course, and between times he lay hugging tightly his bottle of hooch. "I wouldn't lose you for a million," he muttered, as each tortured nerve of his body cried out for stimulant, and the little brain devils added their urge, and with sophistry and cunning excuse sought to undermine his resolve. "Just one drink." "You need it." "Taper off gradually." "It's medicine." But to the insidious suggestions of the brain devils he turned a deaf ear, and with clenched teeth, gripped his bottle. "I'll never want you--never need you any more than I do this night," he whispered into the dark. "Right now I'd give half my life for one big swig--but my life isn't mine to give now. It's hers--_hers_, do you hear! It's her fight that I'm fighting, now--and, by G.o.d, she's going to win!"

In the morning, despite the protest of Joe Pete, Brent pushed on. The storm had increased in fury, and it was with difficulty they kept their feet. Toward noon, both knew that they had gained land of some kind, for the terrain became rolling, and in places even hilly.

"We ain' goin' right fer de mountaine," shouted the Indian, with his lips close to Brent's ear. "Dey an' no leetle hill dere till we com' to de ridge."

"I don't care," yelled Brent, "We're heading south, and that's the main thing. We can hit for the river when the storm stops."

The third day was a repet.i.tion of the second, except that the hills became higher and more numerous, but entirely unlike the ridge formation of the Copper Mountains. That night the storm wore itself out, and the morning of the fourth day dawned bright and clear, with a wind blowing strongly.

"Well, where are we?" asked Brent, as he and Joe Pete ascended a nearby hillock to take observation of their surroundings.