There's sure to be an end of it for me--soon." He bowed his wild, unshorn head in his mittened hands, and for a time there was silence between them.
Philip broke it, almost in a whisper.
"Why don't you kill me--here--now-while I'm sitting helpless beside you, and you've a knife in your belt ?" DeBar lifted his head slowly and looked with astonishment into his companion's face.
"I'm not a murderer!" he said.
"But you've killed other men," persisted Philip.
"Three, besides those we hung," replied DeBar calmly.

"One at Moose Factory, when I tried to help John, and the other two up here.

They were like you--hunting me down, and I killed 'em in fair fight.

Was that murder?
Should I stand by and be shot like an animal just because it's the law that's doing it?
Would you ?" He rose without waiting for an answer and felt of the clothes beside the fire.
"Dry enough," he said.

"Put 'em on and we'll be hiking." Philip dressed, and looked at his compass.
"Still north ?" he asked.