His bantering mood fled with the swiftness of all his changes. Toppy and his aspirations as a leader—that was another incident of the day’s work that was over and done with. “Go back to the shop, to Scotty, Treplin,” he said quietly. “You’re not responsible for your limitations. Scotty says you make a pretty fair helper. Be consoled. He’s waiting for you.” He turned instantly toward the men. Toppy, with the hot blood rushing in his throat, but helpless as he was, swung away from the pit without a word. As he did so he saw that the hawk-faced shotgun guard had appeared and taken his position on the little rise where his gun bore slantwise on the huddled men before the pit, and he hurried to get out of sight of the scene. His tongue was dry and his temples throbbing with rage, but the cool section of his mind urged him away from the pit in silence. Between clenched teeth he cursed his injured ankle. It was the ankle that made him accept without return the shame which Reivers had put upon him. The canny sense within him continued to whisper that until the ankle was sound he must bide his time. Reivers and he were too nearly a pair to give him the slightest chance for success if he essayed defiance at even the slightest disadvantage. Choking back as well as he could the anger that welled up within him, he made his way swiftly to the blacksmith-shop. Campbell, bending over the anvil, greeted Toppy cheerily as he heard the heavy tread behind him. “The Snow-Burner promised he’d send you here, and——Losh, mon!” he gasped as he turned around and saw Toppy’s face. “What’s come o’er ye? You look like you’re ripe for murder.” “There’ll probably be murder done in this camp before the day’s over, but I won’t do it,” replied Toppy. As he threw off his mackinaw preparatory to starting work he snapped out the story of the situation at the quarry. Campbell, leaning on his hammer, grew grim of lips and eyes as he listened. “Aye; I thought at the time it were better for you had ye lost at poker last night,” he said slowly. “He’s taking revenge. But they will put out his light for him. Human flesh and blood won’t stand it. The Snow-Burner goes too far. He’ll——Hark! Good Heavens! Hear that!” For a moment they stood near the open doorway of the shop staring at one another in horrified, mute questioning. The crisp stillness of the morning rang and echoed with the sharp roar of a shotgun. The sound came from the direction of the quarry. Across the street they heard the door of the office-building open sharply. The girl, without hat or coat, her light hair flying about her head, came running like a deer to the door of the shop. “Mr. Campbell, Mr. Campbell!” she called tremblingly, peering inside. Then she saw Toppy. “Oh!” she gasped. She started back a little. There were surprise and relief in her exclamation, in her eyes, in her movement.