But there was also a shorter and surer way—a shameful way. Moir, by the talk he had heard of him, came to Fifty Mile and Dumont’s Camp for such whisky and feminine company as might be found. He had even sent one of his henchmen to steal Hattie MacGregor. Such a move proved that Moir was desperate, and by this time, by the non-appearance of the would-be-kidnapper, the chief would know that his man was either killed or captured, and that no hope for a woman lay in that quarter. Moir’s next move would be to come to Fifty Mile and Dumont’s, or to send a man there, to procure the means of salving his disappointment. And Reivers had two attractive women at his disposal, Tillie, and the young girl who was nearly beautiful. Thus did Reivers overcome his momentary weakness. The black shamefulness of his scheme he laughed at. Then he went to sleep. He gave his orders to Tillie early next morning. “Have this tepee and another one loaded on one sledge,” he directed. “Have a second sledge loaded with caribou meat. Do you and the young girl prepare to come with me. We are going on a long journey. You will both take your brightest clothes.” He waited with set jaws while his orders were obeyed. No weakness any more. There was only one law, the strong over the weak, and he was the strong one. A call from Tillie apprised him that all was ready, and he strode forth to find Nawa, the young hunter, waiting with the two women ready for the trail. “How so?” he demanded. “Did I say aught about Nawa?” “Oh, Snow-Burner,” whispered Tillie, “Neopa is to be Nawa’s squaw with the coming of Spring. They wish to go together.” “And I do not wish them to go together,” said Reivers harshly. “Give me that rifle.” He took the weapon from Nawa’s hands. “Do you stay here and eat caribou meat and grow fat against the coming of Spring, Nawa.” “Snow-Burner,” said Nawa, a flash of will lighting his eyes for the moment, “does Neopa come back to me?” “Perhaps,” said Reivers, cocking the rifle. “But if you try to follow you will never come back. Is it understood?” Nawa bowed his head and turned away. Neopa made as if to run to him, but Reivers caught her brutally and threw her upon the lead sledge. He had resolved to travel the way of shame, no matter what the cost to others. “Mush! Get on!” he roared at the dogs, and with the rifle ready and with a backward glance at Nawa, he drove away for Fifty Mile and Dumont’s Camp. CHAPTER XXXI—THE SQUAW-MAN A day after Reivers drove out of the Indian camp, Dumont’s Camp had something to talk about. A half-witted, crippled-up squaw-man went through with a couple of squaws, and the youngest of the squaws was a beaut’! The old bum hadn’t stopped long, just long enough to trade a chunk of caribou meat for a bottle of hooch, but long enough, nevertheless, to let the gang get a peek at the squaws.