been neglected and his few questions went
unanswered. He was pleased when Lonagon turned up, for he had a deadly
fear of madmen.

"What cheer, stranger!" cried Lonagon. "You turned up in the nick of
time."

Jim stopped the sled and regarded him fixedly.

"Are you--Lonagon?" he asked in a husky voice.

"Sure!"

"Then where's D'Arcy? I want D'Arcy. D'ye git that? It's D'Arcy I'm
after."

Lonagon looked at Shanks. Shanks tapped his forehead significantly to
indicate that in his opinion the stranger had left the major portion of
his senses out on the trail, and wasn't safe company.

"So--you want D'Arcy?" quavered Lonagon.

"I said so."

"Wal, you're only jest in time. Come right in and see for yourself."

Jim reeled across to the cabin and hesitated on the threshold.

"It's kinder private," he growled.

"Oh, like that, is it?"

Lonagon began to smell a rat. He pursed his lips and met Jim's flaming
eyes. Undaunted, he placed his back to the door.

"See here, we're mighty obliged to you for plugging them Injuns, but you
ain't going in there till we know what your game is. You ain't
safe--there's a skeery look in your eyes and--" he lowered his
voice--"D'Arcy is hitting the long trail."

Jim started back in amazement. The news brought him the bitterest
disappointment he had yet suffered. After all this terrible time on the
trail fate was to rob him of his reward! For a moment he became
suspicious.

"So he put you up to that, eh? Better stand away. I ain't in a humor for
hossplay. We got a score to settle."

Shanks stepped up to him.

"That score will be settled in less'n an hour. The Injuns got D'Arcy over
the heart. Go in and see. I reckon you'll find there's no need to settle
scores."

Lonagon, realizing that nothing could worsen D'Arcy's condition, turned
away and watched Jim enter the cabin.

Once inside the door, Jim saw that the two men had spoken the truth.
D'Arcy's deathly white face was turned towards him and the hands were
clenched on the brown blanket. Providence was robbing him of his
vengeance, and despite his crushing sense of failure, somewhere in his
heart leapt a great gladness. He approached the bed, and the sound of his
heavy tread awoke the dying man to consciousness. He turned his glassy
eyes on his visitor, and for a moment failed to recognize him. Then memory
came.

"You--you are the man--I saw--on the bank at Dawson.... Angela's
husband!"

Jim nodded grimly.

"I've co