"The hillmen an' their women an' the shiny hill kids give wide berth in passin', an' make low salaams to the grave o' the terrible fightin' _sahib_ that put the fear o' God in the heart o' the wild Boh. An' it's as Captain Fronte would wished--Oi know'd um well. "But, as Oi was sayin', the whiles Miss Fanny was tryin'--by nine times six is forty-seven an' traject'ry an' muzzle v'locity an' fours right an' holler squares--to wish the Boh offen the hilltop so he could march us through the pass accordin' to Hoyle, Fronte McKim was off ahead among the rocks, layin' on his belly behint a ant-hill studyin' the hillside through his spyglass. "Well, 'long 'bout noon he come gallopin' up, wi' his big black horse all a lather, to where we was layin' in the scrub cursin' the flies an' the department an' the outbreaks o' Bohs. "'Come on, boys!' he hollers, wi' the glitter in his eye; 'Oi found the way! All together now, an' we'll see the top o' yon hill or we'll see hell this day!' "Wi' that he tears loose a yell 'twould strike a chill to the heart o' an iceberg, an' wheels his horse into the open--an' us in the saddle an' follerin', all yellin' like a hellful o' devils turned loose for recess." The old man shifted his crutch and sipped at his liquor. "Most o' us seen the top o' the hill," he resumed, "an' the brown hillmen, what of 'em wasn't layin' limp by the guns, a skitterin' through the scrub after a Boh who'd took off on a stray cavalry horse. "But they was a many o' us as didn't--layin' sprawled among the rocks o' the bare hillside, an' their horses runnin' wild to keep up wi' the charge. We found Captain Fronte wi' his whole front blow'd out by a shell an' his shoulders kind o' tumbled in where his lungs belonged--but thim eyes was lookin' straight at the hilltop. "An' Oi looked in 'em long--for Oi loved him--an' was glad. 'Cause Oi know'd Captain Fronte McKim was seein' hell--an' enjoyin' it." He set down the empty glass and favored Creed with a cold stare: "An' his eyes is like _that_--the stranger's--an' yours ain't, nor Moncrossen's." CHAPTER XII THE TEST With only one-half of his journey behind him and the chill night-wind whipping through the unchinked crevices of the deserted shack; with the prospect of an unsavory supper of soggy sock-eye and a lump of frozen bread, Bill Carmody fervently wished himself elsewhere. His mind lingered upon the long row of squat, fat-footed shoe-packs which the old man had indicated with his gnarled crutch. How good they would feel after the grinding newness of his boots! And coffee--he could see the row of tin pots hanging from their wires, and the long, flat slabs of bacon suspended from the roof-logs of the store.