om replenishing it to notice that West had removed the
bandage from his eyes.

"Better keep it on," the young man advised.

"I was changin' it. Too tight. Gives me a headache," the convict
answered sulkily.

"Can you see anything at all yet?"

"Not a thing. Looks to me like I never would."

Tom turned his head for him, so that he faced the blaze squarely. "No
light at all?"

"Nope. Don't reckon I ever will see."

"Maybe you will. I've known' cases of snow-blindness where they
couldn't see for a month an' came out all right."

"Hurts like blazes," growled the big fellow.

"I know. But not as bad as it did, does it? That salve has helped
some."

The two young fellows took care of the man as though he had been a
brother. They bathed his eyes, fed him, guided him, encouraged him. He
was a bad lot--the worst that either of them had known. But he was
in trouble and filled with self-pity. Never ill before, a giant of
strength and energy, his condition now apparently filled him with
despair.

He would sit hunched down before the fire, head bowed in his hands, a
mountain of dole and woe. Sometimes he talked, and he blamed every one
but himself for his condition. He never had had a square deal. Every
one was against him. It was a rotten world. Then he would fall to
cursing God and man.

In some ways he was less trouble than if he had been able to see. He
was helpless and had to trust to them. His safety depended on their
safety. He could not strike at them without injuring himself. No
matter how much he cringed at the thought of being dragged back to
punishment, he shrank still more from the prospect of death in the
snow wastes. The situation galled him. Every decent word he gave them
came grudgingly, and he still snarled and complained and occasionally
bullied as though he had the whip hand.

"A nice specimen of _ursus horribilis_," Beresford murmured to his
companion one day. "Thought he was game, anyhow, but he's a yellow
quitter. Acts as though we were to blame for his blindness and for
what's waiting for him at the end of the journey. I like a man to
stand the gaff when it's prodding him."

Morse nodded. "Look out for him. I've got a notion in the back o' my
head that he's beginning to see again. He'd kill us in a holy minute
if he dared. Only his blindness keeps him from it. What do you say?
Shall we handcuff him nights?"

"Not necessary," the constable said. "He can't see a thing. Watch him
groping fo