"Answer her question," commanded Donald, bluntly; "and then I'll
explain."

"Oh, yes, who's got the fever? It's the governor, the boss, the
factor--er--Mr. Fitzpatrick. It's not what you call dangerous yet,
but the chances are good, ma'am. Yes," he added, with evident
relish, "the chances are good."

The cry that broke from the girl's lips halted any further essays
at humor of this sort.

"Shut up, can't you, Braithwaite?" snarled Donald. "Can't you see
it's Miss Fitzpatrick, and that she wants to know about her father?

"Not the lost one, Mac?"

"Yes, the lost one; I found her, or, rather, we met here quite by
accident, with nothing on earth but the clothes we stood in, and
a knife and an ax. We've been kicking along the best we could ever
since in this cabin. That's all there is to it. Now what about the
factor?

"Well, it was this way, Mac. There was a lively little argument
goin' on out front, where some of our boys were tryin' to capture
some of their'n. You see, the factor thought, if we captured those
fellers, and brought 'em back to the fort prisoners, it would end
the free tradin'. As I say, there had been quite a little argument
out front, and the factor, he didn't like the way things were
goin'--got a little r'iled, as he sometimes does, you remember.
We-ell, darned if he didn't start out to tell 'em how to do it,
when somebody plugs him with a rifle bullet in the collar-bone,
and that's the end of his fightin' for a while. Of course, he's
big and heavy and gettin' old, so the fever that set in came to be
the most important part of the wound, but they think he'll pull
through."

"Of course, Dr. Craven from the fort is there?" queried Jean, from
the door.

"Yes, ma'am, he went along with the expedition, and it's good
he did."

"How is the situation down there now?" Donald questioned.

"Well, for our side, it ain't no more'n so-so," was the somber
admission; "an' mebbe that's stretchin' it."

After a little more general conversation, Braithwaite, with his
sick, made camp a short distance from the cabin, stoutly refusing
Jean's proffered hospitality, and the two castaways once more
returned inside, and took their places by the fire.

"Well, princess, that changes matters doesn't it?

"Yes, Donald. At least it changes directions."

"What do you mean?

"That I must go to Sturgeon Lake and father, to-morrow. Of course,
you have already decided to head that way."

"Yes, but I feel that you