erton, "who has been at your
heels for weeks."

"So!" answered the half-breed in native speech, with a hopeless
gesture, "It had been better to have died the snow-death, but I shall
die before they hang me, for I am hurt."

He glanced down at his shoulder as he spoke, and looking closely the
two white men saw that the frozen snow on his furs was stained.

"Ah!" said the policeman, "I hadn't noticed that, but we'll have a look
at it." He looked at Stane, who was eyeing the half-breed with a savage
stare, then he said sharply: "Give me a hand, Stane. We can't let the
beggar die unhelped, however he may deserve it. He's a godsend anyway,
for he can explain your mystery. Besides it's my duty to get him back
to the Post, and they wouldn't welcome him dead. Might think I'd
plugged him, you know."

Together they lifted the man nearer the fire, and examined the injured
shoulder. It had been drilled clean through by a bullet. Anderton
nodded with satisfaction. "Nothing there to kill you, Chigmok. We'll
bandage you up, and save you for the Law yet?"

They washed and dressed the wound, made the half-breed as comfortable
as they could; then as he reposed by the fire, Anderton found the man's
pipe, filled it, held a burning stick whilst he lit it, and when it was
drawing nicely, spoke:

"Now, Chigmok, you owe me something for all this, you know. Just tell
us the meaning of the game you were playing. It can't hurt you to make
a clean breast of it; because that other affair that you know of is
ample for the needs of the Law."

"You want me to tell?" asked the half-breed in English.

"Yes, we're very curious. My friend here is very anxious to know why he
was attacked, and why he was to die whilst the girl who was with him
was carried off."

"You not know?" asked the half-breed.

"Well, we haven't quite got the rights of it," was the policeman's
guarded answer.

"Then I tell you." His dark eyes turned to Stane. "You not know me?"

"No," answered Stane. "I never saw you in my life before."

"But I haf seen you. Oui! I steal your canoe when you sleep!"

"Great Scott!" cried Stane. "You----"

"I run from zee poleece, an' I haf nodings but a gun. When I watch you
sleep, I tink once I shoot you; but I not know who ees in zee leetle
tent, an' I tink maybe dey catch me, but I know now eet vas not so."

"You know who was in the tent?" asked Stane sharply.

"I fin' dat out zee ver' next morning, when I meet a man who ask for