"
Tears ran down his face and he moaned piteously. "I'll -- make
it -- right -- you're white, ain't ye?"
Quonab rose and went for more firewood. The trapper whispered,
"I'm scared o' him -- now -- he'll do me -- say, I'm jest a poor
ole man. If I do live -- through -- this -- m-m-m-m -- I'll
never walk again. I'm crippled sure."
It was long before he resumed. Then he began: "Say, what day is
it -- Friday! -- I must -- been two days in there -- m-m-m -- I
reckoned it was a week. When -- the -- dog came I thought it was
wolves. Oh -- ah, didn't care much -- m-m-m. Say, ye won't
leave me -- coz -- coz -- I treated -- ye mean. I -- ain't had
no l-l-luck." He went off into a stupor, but presently let out a
long, startling cry, the same as that they had heard in the
night. The dog growled; the men stared. The wretch's eyes were
rolling again. He seemed delirious.
Quonab pointed to the east, made the sun-up sign, and shook his
head at the victim. And Rolf understood it to mean that he would
never see the sunrise. But they were wrong.
The long night passed in a struggle between heath and the tough
make-up of a mountaineer.
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