"He killed Dutchy and Harkey!" was her husband's reply; "and I am going to kill him." "But that is wrong," she objected. "There is the law." He sneered his incredulity of the law's potency in such a region, but he merely iterated, dispassionately, doggedly, "He killed Dutchy and Harkey." Long she argued it with him, but the argument was one-sided, for he contented himself with repeating again and again, "He killed Dutchy and Harkey." But she could not escape from her childhood training nor from the blood that was in her. The heritage of law was hers, and right conduct, to her, was the fulfilment of the law. She could see no other righteous course to pursue. Hans's taking the law in his own hands was no more justifiable than Dennin's deed. Two wrongs did not make a right, she contended, and there was only one way to punish Dennin, and that was the legal way arranged by society. At last Hans gave in to her. "All right," he said. "Have it your own way. And to-morrow or next day look to see him kill you and me." She shook her head and held out her hand for the shot-gun. He started to hand it to her, then hesitated. "Better let me shoot him," he pleaded. Again she shook her head, and again he started to pass her the gun, when the door opened, and an Indian, without knocking, came in. A blast of wind and flurry of snow came in with him. They turned and faced him, Hans still holding the shot-gun. The intruder took in the scene without a quiver. His eyes embraced the dead and wounded in a sweeping glance. No surprise showed in his face, not even curiosity. Harkey lay at his feet, but he took no notice of him. So far as he was concerned, Harkey's body did not exist. "Much wind," the Indian remarked by way of salutation. "All well? Very well?" Hans, still grasping the gun, felt sure that the Indian attributed to him the mangled corpses. He glanced appealingly at his wife. "Good morning, Negook," she said, her voice betraying her effort. "No, not very well. Much trouble." "Good-by, I go now, much hurry," the Indian said, and without semblance of haste, with great deliberation stepping clear of a red pool on the floor, he opened the door and went out. The man and woman looked at each other. "He thinks we did it," Hans gasped, "that I did it." Edith was silent for a space. Then she said, briefly, in a businesslike way: "Never mind what he thinks. That will come after. At present we have two graves to dig. But first of all, we've got to tie up Dennin so he can't escape."