Victor's horror-stricken cry was the only sound that came. In the twinkling of an eye the metal ring disappeared. Victor felt two bony hands seize him by the throat. The next instant he was hurled to the ground, and a knee was upon his chest. A weight compressed his lungs and he could scarcely breathe. Then he felt the revolver belt dragged from about his waist and his long sheath-knife withdrawn from its sheath. Then, and not till then, the pressure on his chest relaxed, and the hand that had gripped his throat released its hold. The next moment he was lifted to his feet as though he were a mere puppet, and the voice of Jean Leblaude broke harshly upon his ears.
"Guess your bluff wa'n't wuth a cent, Victor Gagnon. I see'd this comin' the minit you pass'd me the drink. I 'lows ye ken mostly tell a skunk by the stink. I rec'nized you awhiles back. Guess you ain't lightin' out o' here this night. Come right along."
The trader had no choice. Jean had him foul, gripping him with a clutch that was vise-like. The giant's great strength was irresistible when put forth in the deadly earnestness of passion, and just now he could hardly hold his hand from breaking the neck which was so slight beneath his sinewy fingers.
Just for one instant Victor made a faint struggle. As well attempt to resist Doom. Jean shook him like a rat and thrust him before him in the direction of the woods behind the store.
"You'll pay fer this," the trader said, between his teeth.
But Jean gave no heed to his impotent rage. He pushed him along in silence, nor did he pause till the secret huts were reached. He opened the door of one and dragged his captive in. There was no light within. But this seemed no embarrassment to the purposeful man. He strode straight over to one corner of the room and took a long, plaited lariat from the wall. In three minutes Victor was trussed and laid upon the ground bound up like a mummy.
Now Jean lighted a lamp and looked down at his victim; there was not the faintest sign of drink about him, and as Victor noticed this he cursed himself bitterly.
There was an impressive silence. Then Jean's words came slowly. He expressed no emotion, no passion; just the purpose of a strong man who moves relentlessly on to his desired end.