such a chap as this. Soon freeze hard. He wouldn't
come back to life like old Scruff. What do you say to that, Master Abel
Wray?"

"Nothing," said Abel shortly, "because if I said _Yes_! you wouldn't do
it."

Tregelly stood and shook with the ebullition of chuckles which came
bubbling out.

"Oh, dear me," he said at last, as he wiped his eyes. "I can't help
being such a fool. It's my nature to, my sons. No, I couldn't set the
dog at the beast, and I couldn't put him out to freeze; but if it had
come to a fight, and I'd been up, I could have shot him or knocked him
on the head, and felt all the better for it."

"Yes, I know," said Dallas, who stood gazing down at the trembling
wretch upon the couch.

"I s'pose I ought to be very glad him and his lot found my place empty;
and I ought to sit down and nurse him and try to make him well again,
and stop till his mates came and made an end of me--same as they've made
an end of everything in the place. I say, just look here--quiet,
Scruff, or I'll come and talk to you with one of my boots!--I'm blessed
if they haven't finished up everything I left here--ham, bacon, meal,
tea, sugar--every blessed thing," continued Tregelly, as he opened
canister and tin, peered into the meal-tub, and finished by staring down
at the miserable wretch on the bed, and thoughtfully scratching his
head.

"It's horrible, Bob," said Dallas. "The brutes! But I don't know what
we're to do."

Tregelly looked down again at the man, whose lips were moving fast; but
his words were inaudible, save now and then, when he uttered a strange
yelping cry, and they heard the word, "Dog!"

"Seems your turn now, Master Abel," said Tregelly. "You've got your
knife into him most. But he's got his deserts."

CHAPTER THIRTY.

A STAGGERING BLOW.

"Is he dying?" said Abel, as he looked down with commiseration on the
man who tried to take his life.

"As sure as the sun'll rise to-morrow morning somewhere if it don't
here, my son. He's dying fast. Man can't live long going through what
he's going through now. He's dying as horrible a death as a man can
die. Hanging would be a blessing to it."

"Yes, he's weaker already," said Dallas, looking at the prostrate man.

"That's so, my son. I don't like his dying in my place; but we can't
help it. Let's get together what we want to take, and go."

"But there is nothing to load the sledge with," said Dallas.

"There's a nice lot of cartridge