t's had a ruction with a panther, an' the way he's clawed is
something scand'lous."

"How far up?" Doctor Linday demanded.

"A matter of a hundred miles."

"How long since?"

"I've ben three days comin' down."

"Bad?"

"Shoulder dislocated. Some ribs broke for sure. Right arm broke. An'
clawed clean to the bone most all over but the face. We sewed up two or
three bad places temporary, and tied arteries with twine."

"That settles it," Linday sneered. "Where were they?"

"Stomach."

"He's a sight by now."

"Not on your life. Washed clean with bug-killin' dope before we
stitched. Only temporary anyway. Had nothin' but linen thread, but
washed that, too."

"He's as good as dead," was Linday's judgment, as he angrily fingered
the cards.

"Nope. That man ain't goin' to die. He knows I've come for a doctor, an'
he'll make out to live until you get there. He won't let himself die. I
know him."

"Christian Science and gangrene, eh?" came the sneer. "Well, I'm not
practising. Nor can I see myself travelling a hundred miles at fifty
below for a dead man."

"I can see you, an' for a man a long ways from dead."

Linday shook his head. "Sorry you had your trip for nothing. Better stop
over for the night."

"Nope. We'll be pullin' out in ten minutes."

"What makes you so cocksure?" Linday demanded testily.

Then it was that Tom Daw made the speech of his life.

"Because he's just goin' on livin' till you get there, if it takes you a
week to make up your mind. Besides, his wife's with him, not sheddin' a
tear, or nothin', an' she's helpin' him live till you come. They think a
almighty heap of each other, an' she's got a will like hisn. If he
weakened, she'd just put her immortal soul into hisn an' make him live.
Though he ain't weakenin' none, you can stack on that. I'll stack on it.
I'll lay you three to one, in ounces, he's alive when you get there. I
got a team of dawgs down the bank. You ought to allow to start in ten
minutes, an' we ought to make it back in less'n three days because the
trail's broke. I'm goin' down to the dawgs now, an' I'll look for you in
ten minutes."

Tom Daw pulled down his earflaps, drew on his mittens, and passed out.

"Damn him!" Linday cried, glaring vindictively at the closed door.

II

That night, long after dark, with twenty-five miles behind them, Linday
and Tom Daw went into camp. It was a simple but adequate affair: a fire
built in the snow; alongside, their sleep