when I could."

There was a long pause. Rolf said, "Seems to me I heard you last night,
when we were up there. And dog heard you, too. Do you want me to move
that leg around?"

"M-m-m--yeh--that's better--say, you air white--ain't ye? Ye won't leave
me--cos--I done some mean things--m-m-m. Ye won't, will ye?"

"No, you needn't worry--we'll stay by ye."

Then he muttered, they could not tell what. He closed his eyes. After
long silence he looked around wildly and began again:

"Say--I done you dirt--but don't leave me--don't leave me." Tears ran
down his face and he moaned piteously. "I'll--make it--right--you're
white, ain't ye?"

Quonab rose and went for more firewood. The trapper whispered, "I'm
scared o' him--now--he'll do me--say, I'm jest a poor ole man. If I do
live--through--this--m-m-m-m--I'll never walk again. I'm crippled sure."

It was long before he resumed. Then he began: "Say, what day is
it--Friday!--I must--been two days in there--m-m-m--I reckoned it was a
week. When--the--dog came I thought it was wolves. Oh--ah, didn't care
much--m-m-m. Say, ye won't leave me--coz--coz--I treated--ye mean.
I--ain't had no l-l-luck." He went off into a stupor, but presently let
out a long, startling cry, the same as that they had heard in the night.
The dog growled; the men stared. The wretch's eyes were rolling again.
He seemed delirious.

Quonab pointed to the east, made the sun-up sign, and shook his head at
the victim. And Rolf understood it to mean that he would never see the
sunrise. But they were wrong.

The long night passed in a struggle between heath and the tough make-up
of a mountaineer. The waiting light of dawn saw death defeated,
retiring from the scene. As the sun rose high, the victim seemed to gain
considerably in strength. There was no immediate danger of an end.

Rolf said to Quonab: "Where shall we take him? Guess you better go home
for the toboggan, and we'll fetch him to the shanty."

But the invalid was able to take part in the conversation. "Say, don't
take me there. Ah--want to go home. 'Pears like--I'd be better at home.
My folks is out Moose River way. I'd never get out if I went in
there," and by "there" he seemed to mean the Indian's lake, and glanced
furtively at the unchanging countenance of the red man.

"Have you a toboggan at your shanty?" asked Rolf.

"Yes--good enough--it's on the roof--say," and he beckoned feebly to
Rolf, "let him go after it--don't leave me--he'll