ice of the man calling to him for help; if he did lie
there and watch that carnival of butchery without his manhood prompting
him,--let me state, gentlemen, I say, let me state that he is none the
less deserveful of hanging. We cannot make a mistake. What shall it
be?"

"Death!" "String him up!" "Stretch 'm!" were the cries.

But the crowd suddenly turned its attention to the river, and even
Blackey refrained from his official task. A large raft, worked by a
sweep at either end, was slipping past the tail of Split-up Island,
close to the shore. When it was at their feet, its nose was slewed
into the bank, and while its free end swung into the stream to make the
consequent circle, a snubbing-rope was flung ashore and several turns
taken about the tree under which St. Vincent stood. A cargo of
moose-meat, red and raw, cut into quarters, peeped from beneath a cool
covering of spruce boughs. And because of this, the two men on the
raft looked up to those on the bank with pride in their eyes.

"Tryin' to make Dawson with it," one of them explained, "and the sun's
all-fired hot."

"Nope," said his comrade, in reply to a query, "don't care to stop and
trade. It's worth a dollar and a half a pound down below, and we're
hustlin' to get there. But we've got some pieces of a man we want to
leave with you." He turned and pointed to a loose heap of blankets
which slightly disclosed the form of a man beneath. "We gathered him
in this mornin', 'bout thirty mile up the Stewart, I should judge."

"Stands in need of doctorin'," the other man spoke up, "and the meat's
spoilin', and we ain't got time for nothin'." "Beggar don't have
anythin' to say. Don't savve the burro." "Looks as he might have been
mixin' things with a grizzly or somethin',--all battered and gouged.
Injured internally, from the looks of it. Where'll you have him?"

Frona, standing by St. Vincent, saw the injured man borne over the
crest of the bank and through the crowd. A bronzed hand drooped down
and a bronzed face showed from out the blankets. The bearers halted
near them while a decision could be reached as to where he should be
carried. Frona felt a sudden fierce grip on her arm.

"Look! look!" St. Vincent was leaning forward and pointing wildly at
the injured man. "Look! That scar!"

The Indian opened his eyes and a grin of recognition distorted his face.

"It is he! It is he!" St. Vincent, trembling with eagerness, turned
upon th