"I'm not an Indian!" answered the boy. "Open the door and let a fellow in! What's the matter with you?"
Connie could hear muttered conversation, as one of the occupants stumbled about the room. Presently a light was struck and the door flew open. "Who be you, an' what d'ye want? An' what you doin' trailin' this time o' night, anyway?"
The man who stood framed in the doorway was of huge build, and scowling countenance, masked for the most part by a heavy black beard.
Connie smiled. "My partner and I are trapping over beyond the Injun village, about forty miles southwest of here, and the Injuns told us that there were some free traders up here some place. We're short of grub and we thought that if we could get supplies from you it would save us a trip clear to Fort Norman."
"Turn yer dogs loose an' come in," growled the man, as he withdrew into the cabin and closed the door against the cold. If Connie could have seen, as he unharnessed his dogs, the swift glances that passed between the two occupants of the cabin, and heard their muttered words, he would have hesitated a long time before entering that cabin alone. But he did not see the glances, nor did he hear the muttered words.
As he stepped through the doorway, he was seized violently from behind. For a moment he struggled furiously, but it was child's play for the big man to hold him, while a small, wizened man sat in his underclothing upon the edge of his bunk and laughed.
"Frisk him!" commanded the big man, and the other rose from the bunk and removed the service revolver from its holster. Then, with a vicious shove, the big man sent Connie crashing into a chair that stood against the opposite wall. "Sit there, you sneakin' little pup! Thought you could fool us, did you, with yer lies about trappin'? Thought we wouldn't know Constable Morgan, of the Mounted, did you? You was some big noise on the Yukon, couple years back, wasn't you? Most always goin' it alone an' makin' grandstand plays. Thought you was some stuff, didn't you?" The man paused for breath, and Connie scrutinized his face, but could not remember to have seen him before. He shifted his glance to the other, who had returned to the edge of the bunk, and was regarding him with a sneering smirk.
"Hello, Mr. Squigg," he said, in a voice under perfect control. "Still up to your old crookedness, are you? It's a wonder to me they've let you live this long."
The big man interrupted. "Know him, do you? But you don't know me. Well, I'll tell you who I be, and I guess you'll know what yer up against. I'm Black Moran!"
"Black Moran!" cried the boy. "Why, Black Moran was——"