unconscious, but has fits of weak delirium. Three or four o'clock
may mark the turning, and if he lives until daybreak I'll feel hopeful.
But do you imagine he didn't deny your workman's charge because it was
true?"

"I'd have expected him to deny it whether it was true or not. That's
what puzzled me. It looked as if he was willing to be suspected."

"Driscoll," said Father Lucien, "is a strange, dark man, but he needs
our help and one of us must watch."

"I'm fresh and will take the first turn," Thirlwell offered, and pulled
his chair to the stove when Father Lucien, wrapping himself in a
blanket, lay down on the floor.

He found watching dreary and got very cold. The pines roared about the
shack and the lamp flickered in the draughts, but the wind was falling
and between the gusts one could hear the river. Drift-ice churned in the
rapid and broke with jarring crashes upon the rocks. Once or twice
Thirlwell thought the sound disturbed Driscoll, because he moved and
muttered brokenly. Thirlwell, however, could not hear what he said, and
getting drowsy with the dry warmth of the stove, struggled to keep
awake. He was not sure that he altogether succeeded, for now and then
his head fell forward and he roused himself with a jerk, but did not
think he really went to sleep. For all that, some hours had passed when
he moved his chair and looked at his watch. It was quieter outside and
the roar of the river had got distinct. Then Thirlwell heard a blanket
thrown back and glanced at the bunk.

Driscoll had turned his head and the light touched his face, which
glistened with sweat. His eyes were wide open, his lips moved as if he
tried to speak, and Thirlwell thought his brain was clear, but saw next
moment that Driscoll was not watching him. He had a curious, strained
look and gazed at the door, as if somebody had come in. The strange
thing was that he looked afraid.

"I couldn't stop her with the back-stroke," he said hoarsely. "She
rolled over as she swung across the stream."

Thirlwell shivered, because it was obvious that the sick man was going
over what had happened the night Strange was drowned. His manner hinted
that he was trying to excuse himself for something he had done.
Shrinking back in the bunk, he resumed in a stronger voice: "I couldn't
stop her! The stream was running fast."

Then he was silent for a time and Thirlwell heard the river rolling
through its ice-bound channel and the dreary wailing of the