And Cassidy had come--Cassidy, who had hung like a wolf to his trails for three years, who had chased him across the Barren Lands, who had followed him up the Mackenzie, and back again--who had fought with him, and starved with him, and froze with him, yet had never brought him to prison.

Deep down in his heart Jolly Roger loved Cassidy.

They had played, and were still playing, a thrilling game, and to win that game had become the life's ambition of each.

And now Cassidy was in there, confident that at last he had his man, and waiting for him to step into the trap.
To Jolly Roger, in the face of its possible tragedy, there was a deep-seated humor in the situation.

Three times in the last year and a half had he turned the tables on Cassidy, leaving him floundering in the cleverly woven webs which the man-hunter had placed for his victim.