Then he began to think rapidly. Perhaps Williams was near the end. He feared the bad cut on his head might prove fatal. What if he should die and have no chance to talk, no chance to square himself with those that he had wronged? Accordingly he made him as comfortable as he could, and after telling Ben his plan, he hurriedly ate a little food, went out into the night and down the trail. Willis was awakened early in the morning by a furious pounding on the door. He rose and hurried down. Tad fairly tumbled into the room. He informed Willis just what had happened, and told him to get ready to go with him at once. A doctor was called, a cab ordered, and in a little while the three were hastening back toward Bruin Inn. With all their speed, however, the morning was well-spent before they reached the little shanty again. The doctor made a careful examination and declared Williams in a very critical condition. The broken leg was reset, the cuts dressed and sewed up. Then began the preparations to remove him out of the mountains to a hospital. It seemed very strange to Tad to be again building a crude stretcher from aspen poles and blankets, but by night they had placed him in the hospital and he was sleeping. It was a long night of strange thoughts and fancies for Willis as he sat by his uncle's bedside. He was too bewildered by all the strange events of the last fortnight to be able to think logically. His admiration for Tad had grown until it knew no bounds, and his pity for his uncle had increased until all the hardness had disappeared from his heart and he was sorry for him. He hoped with all his might that he would yet live. In the early morning Willis was awakened by his uncle's hand being placed on his. The injured man was looking up into his face. He closed his eyes again and was silent a long while. When he opened them again he spoke falteringly: "I'm very sorry, son," he began. "I've been wrong, so wrong all along the way. I've never been square. I have fought the Fates every day of my life, and now I'm whipped." He smiled a little, weak smile. "What a fool a man is," he continued. "Willis, I'm going to slip off very soon, now, and I have so much I want to say to you." He half arose. "Are we alone?" Willis told him that they were, but urged him not to talk. He was determined. "I have played a desperate game, and I have lost. I'm sorry for my mistakes. I have wronged Tad and you the most, for I have wanted your father's mine. I was jealous of your father's favor. Now I know I did not deserve it. I got your mother's reply to Tad's letter long ago. It was sent in my care, and I read it. It decided me, for it all looked so easy. There's money in the mine, son, and Tad is here somewhere. He will tell you all. Tell him for me that I am sorry." He closed his eyes, and in a moment was gone. Willis hurried home to his mother, and together they held a long conference, and many things were accounted for.