livid. His eyes rolled in their sockets and threatened to start out of

his head. His lips moved convulsively as if he were attempting to speak, but he was too panic-stricken to articulate.

Well satisfied, Broom continued: “I shall proceed to the trading-store and bring hither a keg of gunpowder. This explosive I shall place close beside you, so that you may get the full benefit of it. After extracting the little wooden stopper, or screw, which confines the dangerous powder to the inside of the keg, I shall place the end of a lighted candle in the hole, so that after burning a short time, in order to allow you to say your prayers, and me an opportunity to escape, the flame will come in contact with the powder, and—” Broom illustrated the probable result with expressive gestures.

Sahanderry groaned, at which Broom burst into a great fit of laughter. Then, finding the Indian was incapable of speech, Broom left the room. He was closely followed by Ocpic, who, anticipating some developments of a devilish nature, was singularly happy.

When Broom and his dusky coadjutor had gone, Sahanderry made superhuman exertions to free himself. But he had been too well bound by the sailor to escape, and by no possible effort could he loosen his bonds, though the line cut deeply into his wrists in his violent struggles.

“_Bekothrie, Bekothrie_,” he called hoarsely, in vain hope that he who had remained undaunted in so many encounters, who had survived so many dangers, would now rise up to his assistance. It was inconceivably strange to him that Roy should lie there so impassive, should have allowed these things to happen without remonstrance, for Sahanderry was wholly unable to comprehend that Roy could be as readily overcome as any common mortal. But the lifeless form was still, and Sahanderry’s heart sank within him and with apprehensions goaded to the utmost he waited his enemy’s return.

Minutes of intense silence passed, then came the sound of deep breathing, and Ocpic staggered into the room, carrying a heavy keg. He was followed by Broom, whose white, set face and feverish eyes showed him still implacable.

Sahanderry moaned in utter despair. There was a curious grey pallor under his brickdust complexion. His heart was beating like a drum. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him.

Broom worked with grim expedition and the preliminaries were soon over.

Ocpic stood calmly watching events. His eyes took on a look of puzzled bewilderment as the work progressed, but when Broom struck a match to light the candle, Ocpic divined the hellish secret of these singular preparations. With a startled cry he made a bolt for the door.

But Broom caught him and unceremoniously threw him back. “_What-cha-o!_” (Wait!), he said grimly.

With a wary eye on the Eskimo, Broom struck another match and coolly lit the candle, but a draught caused the flame to burn unsteadily, and perceiving this was likely to precipitate the explosion Broom carefully snuffed out the flame with his finger and thumb.

“Won’t do! Guess we’ll have to shift it over there,” he said, pointing to a corner of the room and glancing significantly at his companion; but Ocpic hesitated.

“Shift it, I tell you!” roared Broom.

Though unacquainted with the English language, Ocpic understood from Broom’s gestures that he was ordered to move the keg of gunpowder. He tremblingly approached, and lifting it gingerly, placed it in the required place, then glanced furtively around for a speedy chance of escape. But Broom’s bulk blocked the way. Perceiving Ocpic’s lightning glance and divining its import, Broom waved him back.

“Stand back!” he snapped fiercely.

But the native retained his position boldly and scowled threateningly.

Sahanderry lay with palpitating heart, watching the two men, in the desperate hope that a conflict might ensue. Devotedly he prayed that they might come to blows, but after moments of agonizing suspense Ocpic’s eyes dropped before the grim ferocity of Broom’s look. He fell back reluctantly, scowling with rage, and muttering darkly to himself.

The candle was again lit, and this time the flame burned steadily. Broom was satisfied.

Standing aside, he allowed Ocpic to rush from the room, then quietly he walked to the door. Pausing at the doorway he called jeeringly back:

“Good-bye, friend Sahanderry, a quick and pleasant journey!” Then with a burst of sardonic laughter: “I shall now have the charming Kasba all to myself.”

Left to himself Sahanderry lay still and lifeless, for the grim situation had scared him into a condition near to death. But presently the instinct of self-preservation awoke within him. Again he made terrific struggles to loosen his bonds. With frantic yells he strove to make himself heard, although he knew there was no likelihood of anyone being nearer than Delgezie’s hut, and he realized that the sound of his voice would hardly carry beyond the walls around him. Yet in his extremity he found it impossible to keep silent. He persisted in his exertions to free himself, for the issue at stake was his life. His bonds cut deeply into his flesh at every movement and the pain was frightful, but he struggled till he could struggle no more and fell back exhausted, his head dropping to the floor with a dull thud.

As he lay there like a trussed fowl it seemed to him that never did candle burn so quickly. It shortened as if by magic. Soon the flame was flickering over the black powder. Suddenly Sahanderry lifted his head and listened with all his might. There was a sound outside. He gave a hoarse cry for help, then listened again, his heart thumping like a steam-engine. The sound drew nearer. It was a terrible moment. He glanced frantically at the fast expiring candle. Was there yet time? Spending all his remaining strength in one long-drawn-out cry, he fell back to listen. He heard footsteps. They came nearer, they paused, and then slowly went away.

It was Delgezie, who had just arrived. He was alone, Minnihak having left him to visit a trap. Finding no one on the look-out for him, Kasba not at hand to take his bedding, the old man became uneasy; his heart fluttered with vague forebodings. He took a few steps toward the house, paused undecidedly, then suddenly changing his mind, returned to his sled. Hauling off the dogs’ harness with the ease and dexterity which come with custom, the old fellow tied it together mechanically. Then he again approached the house, muttering to himself in his uneasiness. Suddenly there was a blinding flash, a fearful report, then—darkness.