The fiercest liquor made was to Reivers only a mild stimulant. On his abnormal organisation it merely had the effect of intensifying his characteristics. When he wished to drink whisky he drank—out of full-sized water tumblers. When he did not wish to drink he put liquor from him with contempt. Now he handed the bottle back to Moir. The latter looked at him and at the bottle, a trifle puzzled but not dismayed. Reivers had apparently unconsciously passed the challenge to him, and it was not in his nature to play second to any man in a drinking bout. “Shouldst have taken all thee wanted that time, sonny,” said Moir, and finished the bottle. “No more?” muttered Reivers vacantly. “Gallons!” replied Moir. “Whisky enough to drown you dead—if your women satisfy.” “Look at them,” said Reivers as the door-flap was flung back. “Here they are.” Tillie came in first. She was dressed in white buckskin, her hair hanging in two thick braids down her shoulders. Neopa followed, and the wistfulness that had come into her face from thinking of Nawa made her the more interesting in Shanty Moir’s eyes. A glance from Neopa’s fawn-like eyes at the big man whom Reivers had brought home with him, and then her eyes sought the ground and she trembled. Tillie looked at Moir with interest. Save for the Snow-Burner, she had never seen so masterful a man. She looked at Reivers and saw that he was not watching her. So she smiled upon Moir slyly. She was the Snow-Burner’s slave; his will was her law. But since he refused to notice her smiles it would do no harm to smile upon a man like this Iron Hair—just a little, when the Snow-Burner was not looking. Moir read the smile wrong and spoke sharply to Reivers. “Take the young one outside for two minutes. I’ve a word to say to this one.” To his surprise Reivers rose without demur, thrust Neopa out before him, and dropped the flap. “Listen,” whispered Moir swiftly in her own tongue to Tillie, “we will put his man out of the way. It is easily done. Then you will go with me, you and the young one, and you will be first in my tepee and the young one your slave. Speak quickly. We will be on the trail in an hour.” Still smiling invitingly, Tillie shook her head. “The Snow-Burner is the master,” she said seriously. “I will slay the man who does him harm. I can not do what he does not wish. I can not go away from him.” “But when he is dead, fool, he can have no wish.” The smile went from Tillie’s full lips and she took a step toward the opening. “Stop,” laughed Moir softly. “I merely wished to know if you are a true woman. All right, old sonny!” he called. “Come on in.” “I takest off cap to you, lad,” he continued as Reivers and Neopa re-entered. “Hast got thy squaws fair buffaloed.” His eyes ran over the shrinking Neopa in cruel appraisal. “Now, old sonny, out with it. What’s thy idea of tuh bargain?” Reivers looked longingly toward the empty whisky bottle.