dangerous a place fer me. Git me my snow-shoes, an’ put me up some grub. There’s a hard trail ahead, an’ I must be off.”
In another minute, however, he was glad to be back again in the bunk. He moaned, cursed, and lamented his hard luck. His eyes expressed a nameless fear, and often he looked anxiously toward the door.
“Did you see the Police?” he at length asked. “Are they near?”
“Ah, ah; P’lice at Gap.”
“They are!” Bill suddenly raised himself on his right shoulder. “Are they coming this way? Do they know where I am? Does anybody know?”
“Ah, ah, Tom savvey.”
“I know ye do, ye fool. But does anybody else?”
“Me no savvey. P’lice savvey much, eh?”
“They do,” was the savage reply. “They are devils.”
The short afternoon was rapidly wearing away as the wretched man tossed and writhed in his hard bunk. He became consumed with a burning thirst, and called continually for water. Tom was kept busy melting snow, and then placing the water outside to cool. Cup after cup he carried to the restless patient, who would seize it, drain it to the bottom, and demand more.
When night shut down, Bill became delirious, and it was only with difficulty that the native could keep him in the bunk. He talked and shouted almost incessantly, and Tom was shocked at many of the things he said. If formerly he had any doubt about this man being the one who had committed that terrible deed at the C. D. Cut-Off, it was now entirely removed. The man lived it all over again, as well as other deeds of infamy. Time and time again he would start up and look wildly around, his eyes dilated with fear.
