Judas! A feminine Judas, who had come to him when his guard had been lowered, who had pretended that she believed in him, that she even loved him, that she might wreck his every plan and hope in life.

A Judas, a-- "Let's don't talk about it, Ba'tiste!" Houston's voice was hoarse, weary.

"It's a little too much to take, all in one day." "_Tres bien_," answered the old French-Canadian, not to speak again until they had reached his cabin and, red-faced, he had turned from the stove to place the evening meal on the table.

Then, his mouth full of crisply fried bacon, he waved a hand and spluttered with a sudden inspiration: "What you do, now ?" "Queer question, isn't it ?" The grim humor of it brought a smile, in spite of the lead in Houston's heart.

"What is there to do ?" "What ?" Ba'tiste gulped his food, rose and waved a hand with a sudden flash of emphasis.