constructive force, the other destructive. There was a suggestion of
the gorilla in West's long arms matted with hair, in the muscles of
back and shoulders so gnarled and knotted that they gave him almost
a deformed appearance. Big and broad though he was, the Scot was the
smaller. But power harnessed and controlled expressed itself in every
motion of the body. Moreover, the blue eyes that looked straight and
hard out of the ruddy face told of coordination between mind and
matter.

Angus McRae was that rare product, an honest, outspoken man. He sought
to do justice to all with whom he had dealings. Part of West's demand
was fair, he reflected. The trader had a right to know all the facts
in the case. But the old Hudson's Bay trapper had a great reluctance
to tell them. His instinct to protect Jessie was strong.

"I've saved ye the trouble, Mr. West. The guilty yin was o' my ain
family. Your young man will tell ye I've done a' the horsewhippin'
that's necessary."

The big trail boss looked blackly at his helper. He would settle with
Morse at the proper time. Now he had other business on hand.

"Come clean, McRae. Who was it? There'll be nothin' doin' till I know
that," he growled.

"My daughter."

West glared at him, for once astonished out of profanity.

"What?"