Jennifer went away, leaving him singing, and Dick smiled more than once before he got up, seeking the tent which he shared with Robison. The natural instincts of the breeds took them up to the forest on the cliff-top, where each rolled in his blanket and slept where he lay. But Dick never let Robison out of his sight for long, although the man had shown no interest in anything since the first conversation which he had had with Dick in the cell at old Chipewyan.

"Who told on me?" he asked then; and Dick, watching with interest, made answer:

"Grange's Andree."

He saw the big breed's chest sink and his shoulders bow down as though he had been struck in the wind, and he knew that this primitive man was torn in the agony of love and hate even as he had been himself. This interested him, but it displeased him. Human nature had not climbed so much higher in the essentials after all. At last Robison glanced up, and in his face was that curious high look which Tempest had once seen there.

"If I plead guilty that ends it up?" he said. "Andree's out of it?"

"It's ended anyway. I fancy you're just about all in, my friend," said Dick. "Of course it will simplify matters if you don't want to fight."

"I don't want to fight," said Robison slowly. "I done up Ogilvie."

Watching him a faint gleam of suspicion came to Dick. Any man with such good red blood in him as Robison fights by nature for his life.

"Why?" he asked suddenly.

"He—he——" The unready stammer quickened Dick's suspicions. "He showed me a picture you made of me."

"Ah! Don't you think you punished the wrong man, then? I might have made some more."

"If Ducane ain't found his missus is responsible, ain't she?"

This let in a flood of light under which Dick staggered. Through that sketch he had quite certainly found out what Robison was like.

"How about yourself?" he said, and his voice was un-