it back on the trail."

"Then take your knife."

"No, no."

"Give me your knife."

"Jim, you're crazy. Where's your faith in God?"

"Gone, gone; I've no longer any right to look to Him. I've killed. I've
taken life He gave. 'Vengeance is mine,' He said, an' I've taken it out
of His hands. God's curse is on me now. Oh, let me die, let me die!"

I sat by him all night. He moaned in agony, and his passing was hard. It
was about three in the morning when he spoke again:

"Say, boy, I'm going. I'm a useless old man. I've lived in sin, an' I've
repented, an' I've backslid. The Lord don't want old Jim any more. Say,
kid, see that little girl of mine down in Dawson gets what money's
comin' to me. Tell her to keep straight, an' tell her I loved her. Tell
her I never let up on lovin' her all these years. You'll remember that,
boy, won't you?"

"I'll remember, Jim."

"Oh, it's all a hoodoo, this Northern gold," he moaned. "See what it's
done for all of us. We came to loot the land an' it's a-takin' its
revenge on us. It's accursed. It's got me at last, but maybe I can help
you boys to beat it yet. Call the others."

I called them.

"Boys," said Jim, "I'm a-goin'. I've been a long time about it. I've
been dying by inches, but I guess I'll finish the job pretty slick this
time. Well, boys, I'm in possession of all my faculties. I want you to
know that. I was crazy when I started off, but that's passed away. My
mind's clear. Now, pardners, I've got you into this scrape. I'm
responsible, an' it seems to me I'd die happier if you'd promise me one
thing. Livin', I can't help you; dead, I can--_you know how_. Well, I
want you to promise me you'll do it. It's a reasonable proposition.
Don't hesitate. Don't let sentiment stop you. I wish it. It's my dying
wish. You're starvin', an' I can help you, can give you strength. Will
you promise, if it comes to the last pass, you'll do it?"

We were afraid to look each other in the face.

"Oh, promise, boys, promise!"

"Promise him anyway," said the Halfbreed. "He'll die easier."

So we nodded our heads as we bent over him, and he turned away his face,
content.

'Twas but a little after he called me again.

"Boy, give me your hand. Say a prayer for me, won't you? Maybe it'll
help some, a prayer for a poor old sinner that's backslid. I can never
pray again."

"Yes, try to pray, Jim, try. Come on; say it after me: 'Our Father--'"

"'Our Father--'"

"'Which art in Heaven--'