hard boards comfortable, then spread the other as a
covering. For himself he sat beside the fire and fought his weariness.
When he dozed off and the cold awakened him, he renewed the fire; he
heated beef-tea, and, rousing Mort, fed it to him with a teaspoon. All
night long, at intervals, he tended the sick man, and Grant's eyes
followed him with an expression that brought a fierce pain to Cantwell's
throat.

"You're mighty good--after the rotten way I acted," the former whispered
once.

And Johnny's big hand trembled so that he spilled the broth.

His voice was low and tender as he inquired, "Are you resting easier
now?"

The other nodded.

"Maybe you're not hurt badly, after--all. God! That would be awful--"
Cantwell choked, turned away, and, raising his arms against the log
wall, buried his face in them.

* * * * *

The morning broke clear; Grant was sleeping. As Johnny stiffly mounted
the creek bank with a bucket of water he heard a jingle of sleigh-bells
and saw a sled with two white men swing in toward the cabin.

"Hello!" he called, then heard his own name pronounced.

"Johnny Cantwell, by all that's holy!"

The next moment he was shaking hands vigorously with two old friends
from Nome.

"Martin and me are bound for Saint Mikes," one of them explained. "Where
the deuce did you come from, Johnny?"

"The 'outside.' Started for Stony River, but--"

"Stony River!" The new-comers began to laugh loudly and Cantwell joined
them. It was the first time he had laughed for weeks. He realized the
fact with a start, then recollected also his sleeping partner, and said:

"'Sh-h! Mort's inside, asleep!"

During the night everything had changed for Johnny Cantwell; his mental
attitude, his hatred, his whole reasonless insanity. Everything was
different now, even his debt was canceled, the weight of obligation was
removed, and his diseased fancies were completely cured.

"Yes! Stony River," he repeated, grinning broadly. "I bit!"

Martin burst forth, gleefully: "They caught MacDonald at Holy Cross and
ran him out on a limb. He'll never start another stampede. Old man Baker
gun-branded him."

"What's the matter with Mort?" inquired the second traveler.

"He's resting up. Yesterday, during the storm he--" Johnny was upon the
point of saying "played out," but changed it to "had an accident. We
thought it was serious, but a few days' rest 'll bring him around all
right. He saved