He was by this time a little more master of himself, and looked steadily down on the white face with the grimly-set lips.

His own was distorted into what was not a sympathetic smile, but a grotesque grin, and there was every now and then a reflection of it in the one awry with pain which looked up at him.

Then Alton drew in his breath with a little quivering sigh, and there was a rattle as Okanagan dropped the steel.
"I want that bandage--quick.

We are through now," he said.
Seaforth had afterwards a hazy recollection of helping him to twist the strip of fabric about the firm white flesh, and that his hands made red smears on Alton's deerskin jacket when he stooped and lifted him a little.

There was no bronze in his comrade's face, but in place of it a curious yellow tinge, through which the greyness showed in patches, and with fingers that were strangely clumsy he held a flask to Alton's lips.
The latter choked, and then his eyes opened wide again.