"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.