a final leap which brought him squarely upon the crest of the highest rid

er had first appeared, a stifled cry escaped her lips. The vall

she exclaimed. "

d she had no other place to go. If the herds did mix, it would take weeks of patient toil to separate them-toil on the part of all. Knowing Scarberry as she did, she felt certain that little of th

orld all of itself. He who comes here must take his chance. Some day, the dishonest men will be controlled or driven out. For the present it's a fight. And we mus

exactly what her rights were and to dare him to trespass against them. Since, so far as we know, there are no saddle-deer in Alaska, and no deer-saddles to be purchased anywhere; and since Marian was an ordinary

re now only a few hundred yards away. She at once made out their markings. Two notches, one circular and one triangular, had been cut from the gristly portion of the right ear of each deer. This brutal manner of marking, so common a few year

rs had come after them, they would be driving them back. Now they're just wandering along the edge of the herd, keeping them together. There co

a time she drove along

rters in the old miner's cabin down there in the willows on the bank of

e range may be scant in the spring and his deer become poor for the spring shipping market, so he saves it by driving his herd over here for a month or two, that it may eat all

akes men like wolves that prowl in the scrub forests-fierce, bloodthirsty and savage. But that will do for sentiment. Scarberry must not have his way. He must not feed down our pasture if t

eer and went racing away do

of canvas were all but hidden in a clump of willows, surrounded by deer sleds and

Marian had learned to make them during that event

m in the construction of this winter camp. Her heart warmed with the prospect of perfect comfort, and drawing the har

rival herd must still have shown in her face, for as Patsy turned from her work o

you see

Where had Patsy been? Surely the herd could not be seen from the camp, and she h

ly angry. Something's got to be done about it. Right away,

" said Patsy. "I think it's a shame t

g her by the shoulder and turning her about

d, mystified, "you just come

oo and around the end of the willo

ed tent, and at that very moment its inte

l one? Is it Bill Scarberry who lights that mysterious flame? Do

ed Patsy, "who is he, and

l you," said Marian, shivering as a

ed to go bac

said to tell you that another deer was gon

. It can't be wolves. They leave the bones behind. You can always tell when they're about. I wonder if those strange people of the purple flame are li

important?" asked Pa

ian, as she parted the flap of

t before them. Patsy asked no questions. She knew that the great moment of confiding came when they were snugly tucked in beneath blankets and deerskins in