kill me," and he wept
feebly in his self pity.

So Quonab started down the mountain--a sinewy man--a striding form, a
speck in the melting distance.

Chapter 46. Nursing Hoag

In two hours the red man reached the trapper's shanty, and at once,
without hesitation or delicacy, set about a thorough examination of its
contents. Of course there was the toboggan on the roof, and in fairly
good condition for such a shiftless owner.

There were bunches of furs hanging from the rafters, but not many, for
fur taking is hard work; and Quonab, looking suspiciously over them,
was 'not surprised to see the lynx skin he had lost, easily known by the
absence of wound and the fur still in points as it had dried from the
wetting. In another bundle, he discovered the beaver that had killed
itself, for there was the dark band across its back.

The martens he could not be sure of, but he had a strong suspicion that
most of this fur came out of his own traps.

He tied Hoag's blankets on the toboggan, and hastened back to where he
left the two on the mountain.

Skookum met him long before he was near. Skookum did not enjoy Hoag's
company.

The cripple had been talking freely to Rolf, but the arrival of the
Indian seemed to suppress him.

With the wounded man on the toboggan, they set out, The ground was bare
in many places, so that the going was hard; but, fortunately, it was all
down hill, and four hours' toil brought them to the cabin.

They put the sick man in his bunk, then Rolf set about preparing a meal,
while Quonab cut wood.

After the usual tea, bacon, and flour cakes, all were feeling refreshed.
Hoag seemed much more like himself. He talked freely, almost cheerfully,
while Quonab, with Skookum at his feet, sat silently smoking and staring
into the fire.

After a long silence, the Indian turned, looked straight at the trapper,
and, pointing with his pipestem to the furs, said, "How many is ours?"

Hoag looked scared, then sulky, and said; "I dunno what ye mean. I'm a
awful sick man. You get me out to Lyons Falls all right, and ye can have
the hull lot," and he wept.

Rolf shook his head at Quonab, then turned to the sufferer and said:
"Don't you worry; we'll get you out all right. Have you a good canoe?"

"Pretty fair; needs a little fixing."

The night passed with one or two breaks, when the invalid asked for a
drink of water. In the morning he was evidently recovering, and they
began to plan for the future.