He recognized none of them. He did
not know that he was in the house of Peter Paget, that Diane and Sheba
and his rival were fighting with the help of the doctor to push back
the death that was crowding close upon him. All night he raved, and
his delirious talk went back to the wild scenes of his earlier life.
Sometimes he swore savagely; again he made quiet deadly threats; but
always his talk was crisp and clean and vigorous. Nothing foul or slimy
came to the surface in those hours of unconscious babbling.

The doctor had shaken his head when he first saw the wounds. He would
make no promises.

"He's a mighty sick man. The cuts are deep, and the hammering must have
jarred his brain terribly. If it was anybody but Macdonald, I wouldn't
give him a chance," he told Diane when he left in the morning to get
breakfast. "But Macdonald has tremendous vitality. Of course if he lives
it will be because Mr. Elliot brought him in so soon."

Gordon walked with the doctor as far as the hotel. A brown, thin,
leathery man undraped himself from a chair in the lobby when Elliot
opened the door. He was officially known as the chief of police of
Kusiak. Incidentally he constituted the whole police force. Generally he
was referred to as Gopher Jones on account of his habit of spasmodic
prospecting.

"I got to put you under arrest, Mr. Elliot," he explained.

The loafers in the hotel drew closer.

"What for?" demanded Gordon, surprised.

"Doc thinks it will run to murder, I reckon."

The field agent was startled. "You mean--Macdonald?"

The brown man chewed his quid steadily. "You done guessed it."

"That's absurd, you know. What evidence have you got?"

"First off, you'd had trouble with him. It was common talk that when you
and Mac met, guns were going to pop. You bought an automatic revolver at
the Seattle & Kusiak Emporium two days ago. You was seen practising with
it."

"He had threatened me."

"You want to be careful what you say, Mr. Elliot. It will be used
against you." Gopher shot a squirt of tobacco unerringly at the open
door of the stove. "You was seen talking with Trelawney and Northrup.
Money passed from you to them."

"I gave them a loan of ten dollars each because they were broke. Is that
criminal?" demanded Gordon angrily.

"That's your story. You'll git a chance to tell it to the jury, I
shouldn't wonder. Mebbe they'll believe it. You never can tell."

"Believe it! Why, you muttonhead, I found him wher