said firmly. "It was that or carry you back to
Deadwater a crazy man. I was the doctor then. Guess I'm a man now. Maybe
you won't reckon there's a difference. But there surely is. You see, I'm
not going to lie. I don't need to. Nita isn't at my shanty. She isn't at
Deadwater. Neither is Garstaing. And they've taken your little girl with
them."

"They?"

The man on the blankets had moved again. His knees were drawn up as
though he were about to spring from the sick bed he was still condemned
to.

Ross nodded.

"Yes." Then he pointed at the attitude of the other. "Say, straighten
out, Steve. Push those feet down under the blankets. You're a big man up
against disaster most times. Well, don't forget it. You're up against
disaster now. Sit back, boy, and get a grip on yourself. It's the only
way. I've got to tell you the whole rotten story, and when I've done
I'll ask you to forget the way I had to lie to you. If you can't,
why--it's up to you. My duty was to heal you first, and I don't guess
there's any rules in the game."

Ross was talking for time. He had to be sure. He was ready at a sign to
launch into his story, but he was looking for that sign.

And Steve gave it. It was the only sign the other would accept. Ross was
a powerful man, and Steve was still sick and weak. These things are as
well when a man knows that his purpose means the breaking of a strong
heart. Steve slid his injured feet down under the blankets. His legs
straightened out, and he leant his back against the pillow. But his pipe
was laid aside, and a quickening of his breathing warned the other of
the immense effort for restraint he was putting forth.

"Tell me," he said. Then he added with a sudden note of sharpness,
"Quick!"

The Scotsman nodded.

"It's best that way. Garstaing and Nita bolted. They took your little
girl with them. It's six months ago. When the Indian Treaty Money came
up. Hervey Garstaing waited for that. The Indians never saw it. He
pouched it, and beat the trail, as I said, with Nita and the kiddie.
Say, I needn't tell you more than that. I don't know any more except the
police have been chasing his trail since."

He fumbled in a pocket, and drew out a sealed envelope addressed in a
woman's handwriting, and another that was opened. The sealed envelope he
passed across to Steve. The other he retained.

"She left these two letters in her room," he went on. "That's for you,
and this one was for Millie. Maybe you'll re