ragged him to a more substantial shelter, a thicket of alder. It was
dangerously near the frequented road, but a vague idea had sprung up in
Jim's now troubled mind that, equal vagabonds though they were, Li Tee
had more claims upon civilization, through those of his own race who
were permitted to live among the white men, and were not hunted to
"reservations" and confined there like Jim's people. If Li Tee was "heap
sick," other Chinamen might find and nurse him. As for Li Tee, he had
lately said, in a more lucid interval: "Me go dead--allee samee Mellikan
boy. You go dead too--allee samee," and then lay down again with
a glassy stare in his eyes. Far from being frightened at this, Jim
attributed his condition to some enchantment that Li Tee had evoked from
one of his gods--just as he himself had seen "medicine-men" of his own
tribe fall into strange trances, and was glad that the boy no longer
suffered. The day advanced, and Li Tee still slept. Jim could hear the
church bells ringing; he knew it was Sunday--the day on which he was
hustled from the main street by the constable; the day on which the
shops were closed, and the drinking saloons open only at the back door.
The day whereon no man worked--and for that reason, though he knew it
not, the day selected by the ingenious Mr. Skinner and a few friends as
especially fitting and convenient for a chase of the fugitives. The bell
brought no suggestion of this--though the dog snapped under his breath
and stiffened his spine. And then he heard another sound, far off and
vague, yet one that brought a flash into his murky eye, that lit up the
heaviness of his Hebraic face, and even showed a slight color in his
high cheek-bones. He lay down on the ground, and listened with suspended
breath. He heard it now distinctly. It was the Boston boy calling, and
the word he was calling was "Jim."

Then the fire dropped out of his eyes as he turned with his usual
stolidity to where Li Tee was lying. Him he shook, saying briefly:
"Boston boy come back!" But there was no reply, the dead body rolled
over inertly under his hand; the head fell back, and the jaw dropped
under the pinched yellow face. The Indian gazed at him slowly, and then
gravely turned again in the direction of the voice. Yet his dull mind
was perplexed, for, blended with that voice were other sounds like the
tread of clumsily stealthy feet. But again the voice called "Jim!" and
raising his hands to his lips he gave a low