“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m dying!” was the reply.  “Fer God’s sake, help me!”

“Who are you, anyway? and what has happened?”

“I’m Bill Botreau, an’ the slashers have fixed me.  Tom’s dead.  That’s him jist over there.”

Drawing a small candle from his pocket, Dane stepped over to the fire-place, and lighted it at one of the live coals which still remained.  He was thus enabled to see more clearly, and the sight which met his eyes gave him a severe shock.  Everything in the room was smashed to pieces, table, benches, and bunks.  It was evident that a great fight had taken place, and the victors had departed leaving their two victims upon the floor.

Dane paid no heed to the dead man in a corner of the room, but turned his attention to the wounded one near the door.  He could not see his face, and as he looked he gave a sudden start, for lying before him was one of the three men who had attacked him at Portland Point.

“Where are you hurt?” he asked.

“Here,” and the man placed his hand to his left side.  “One of them devils jabbed me with his knife.  Oh!” His hand dropped, and his face became distorted with pain.

Dane felt certain that the injured man could live but a short time, so he must gain all the information possible.  He stooped and held the candle low.

“Do you know me?” he asked.

The prostrate man stared hard at his face for a few seconds, but manifested no sign of recognition.

“I guess you don’t,” Dane continued.  “But I know you as one of the men who attacked me last May at Portland Point.  I am Dane Norwood, the King’s ranger.”

“Good Lord!” Botreau gasped.  “Do it quick, then, fer God’s sake.”

“Do what?”

“Finish what them devils nearly did.  I deserve it.”

“I’m not a brute even if you are,” Dane declared.  “I want to help you, not kill you.”

“But I’m beyond help, an’ will soon be like Tom there.”

“How did it happen?”

“Too much rum an’ a fight.  We’ve not been on good terms with the gang since Seth Lupin’s death.  They blamed us fer their troubles.”

“What!  Is Seth dead?  Who killed him?” This was important news to Dane.

“Yes, Seth’s dead, but who killed him I don’t know.  It was awful!”

“Where?  When?”

“Up stream, just outside the lodge where the Indians had left the Colonel’s daughter.”

He paused, but Dane laid a heavy hand upon his shoulder.

“Go on,” he ordered, in a voice filled with intense excitement.  “Where is the girl?  Is she safe?”

“Blamed if I know.  We got them Injuns to carry her off fer Seth.  Then that night jist as he was about to enjoy her company something happened.  Me an’ my pardners were waitin’ fer him to come back, but he never came.  At last gittin’ anxious, we went to see what was the matter, an’ there we found Seth layin’ on the ground dead.  I tell you it was awful.  I ain’t been any good since.”