.

The Fight--And A Strange Visitor.
At DeBar's words the blood leaped swiftly through Philip's veins, and he laughed as he flung the outlaw's hand from his arm.
"I'm not afraid of death," he cried angrily.

"Don't take me for a child, William DeBar.

How long since you found this God of yours ?" He spoke the words half tauntingly, and as soon regretted them, for in a voice that betrayed no anger at the slur DeBar said: "Ever since my mother taught me the first prayer, Phil.

I've killed three men and I've helped to hang three others, and still I believe in a God, and I've halt a notion He believes a little bit in me, in spite of the laws made down in Ottawa." The cabin loomed up amid a shelter of spruce like a black shadow, and when they climbed up the bank to it they found the snow drifted high under the window and against the door.
"He's gone--Pierre, I mean," said DeBar over his shoulder as he kicked the snow away.