him and tearing
open his coat and vest. "Oh, my God!" cried the doctor. "He is--" The
doctor paused abruptly.

"What do you say? Oh, Dr. Martin, he is not badly wounded?" Moira threw
herself on her knees beside the wounded man and caught his hand. "Oh, it
is cold, cold," she cried through rushing tears. "Can you not help him?
Oh, you must not let him die."

"Surely he is not dying?" said Cameron.

The doctor was silently and swiftly working with his syringe.

"How long, Doctor?" inquired Raven in a quiet voice.

"Half an hour, perhaps less," said the doctor brokenly. "Have you any
pain?"

"No, very little. It is quite easy. Cameron," he said, his voice
beginning to fail, "I want you to send a letter which you will find in
my pocket addressed to my brother. Tell no one the name. And add this,
that I forgive him. It was really not worth while," he added wearily,
"to hate him so. And say to the Superintendent I was on the straight
with him, with you all, with my country in this rebellion business. I
heard about this raid; and I fancy I have rather spoiled their pemmican.
I have run some cattle in my time, but you know, Cameron, a fellow who
has worn the uniform could not mix in with these beastly breeds against
the Queen, God bless her!"

"Oh, Dr. Martin," cried the girl piteously, shaking him by the arm, "do
not tell me you can do nothing. Try--try something." She began again to
chafe the cold hand, her tears falling upon it.

Raven looked up quickly at her.

"You are weeping for me, Miss Moira?" he said, surprise and wonder in
his face. "For me? A horse-thief, an outlaw, for me? I thank you. And
forgive me--may I kiss your hand?" He tried feebly to lift her hand to
his lips.

"No, no," cried the girl. "Not my hand!" and leaning over him she kissed
him on the brow. His eyes were still upon her.

"Thank you," he said feebly, a rare, beautiful smile lighting up the
white face. "You make me believe in God's mercy."

There was a quick movement in the group and Smith was kneeling beside
the dying man.

"God's mercy, Mr. Raven," he said in an eager voice, "is infinite. Why
should you not believe in it?"

Raven looked at him curiously.

"Oh, yes," he said with a quaintly humorous smile, "you are the chap
that chucked Jerry away from the door?"

Smith nodded, then said earnestly:

"Mr. Raven, you must believe in God's mercy."

"God's mercy," said the dying man slowly. "Yes, God's mercy. What is it
again?