Howland straightened, his voice trembling a little with excitement.

“If you take me to Meleese, and swear to do as I say, I shall bring no harm to you or your friends.”

“And Meleese—­” Jean’s eyes darkened again, “You will not harm her, M’seur?”

“Harm her!” There was a laughing tremor in Howland’s voice.  “Good God, man, are you so blind that you can’t see that I am doing this because of her?  I tell you that I love her, and that I am willing to die in fighting for her.  Until now I haven’t had the chance.  You and your friends have played a cowardly underhand game, Croisset.  You have taken me from behind at every move, and now it’s up to you to square yourself a little or there’s going to be hell to pay.  Understand?  You take me to Meleese or there’ll be a clean-up that will put you and the whole bunch out of business. Harm her—­” Again Howland laughed, leaning his white face toward Jean.  “Come, which shall it be, Croisset?”

A cold glitter, like the snap of sparks from striking steels, shot from the Frenchman’s eyes.  The grayish pallor went from his face.  His teeth gleamed in the enigmatic smile that had half undone Howland in the fight.

“You are mistaken in some things, M’seur,” he said quietly.  “Until to-day I have fought for you and not against you.  But now you have left me but one choice.  I will take you to Meleese, and that means—­”

“Good!” cried Howland.

“La, la, M’seur—­not so good as you think.  It means that as surely as the dogs carry us there you will never come back. Mon Dieu, your death is certain!”

Howland turned briskly to the stove.

“Hungry, Jean?” he asked more companionably.  “Let’s not quarrel, man.  You’ve had your fun, and now I’m going to have mine.  Have you had breakfast?”

“I was anticipating that pleasure with you, M’seur,” replied Jean with grim humor.

“And then—­after I had fed you—­you were going to kill me, my dear Jean,” laughed Howland, flopping a huge caribou steak on the naked top of the sheet-iron stove.  “Real nice fellow you are, eh?”

“You ought to be killed, M’seur.”

“So you’ve said before.  When I see Meleese I’m going to know the reason why, or—­”

“Or what, M’seur?”

“Kill you, Jean.  I’ve just about made up my mind that you ought to be killed.  If any one dies up where we’re going, Croisset, it will be you first of all.”

Jean remained silent.  A few minutes later Howland brought the caribou steak, a dish of flour cakes and a big pot of coffee to the table.  Then he went behind Jean and untied his hands.  When he sat down at his own side of the table he cocked his revolver and placed it beside his tin plate.  Jean grimaced and shrugged his shoulders.

“It means business,” said his captor warningly.  “If at any time I think you deserve it I shall shoot you in your tracks, Croisset, so don’t arouse my suspicions.”