"Not until I've said something to you, Billy," he insisted. "You know-- you understand. I'm dying. It's liable to come any minute now, and I've got to tell you-- things. You must understand-- before I go. I won't be long. I killed a man, but I'm-- not sorry. He tried to insult her-- my wife-- an' you-- you'd have killed him, too. You people began to hunt me, and for safety we went far north-- among the Eskimos-- an' lived there-- long time. The Eskimos-- they loved the little girl an' wife, specially little Isobel. Thought them angels-- some sort. Then we heard you were goin' to hunt for me-- up there-- among the Eskimos. So we set out with the box. Box was for her-- to keep her from fearful cold. We didn't dare take the baby-- so we left her up there. We were going back-- soon-- after you'd made your hunt. When we saw your fire on the edge of the Barren she made me get in the box-- an' so-- so you found us. You know-- after that. You thought it was-- coffin-- an' she told you I was dead. You were good-- good to her-- an' you must go down there where she is, and take little Isobel. We were goin' to do as you said-- an' go to South America. But we had to have the baby, an' I came back. Should have told you. We knew that-- afterward. But we were afraid-- to tell the secret-- even to you--" He stopped, panting and coughing. Billy was crushing both his thin, cold hands in his own. He found no word to say. He waited, fighting to stifle the sobbing grief in his breath. "You were good-- good-- good-- to her," repeated Deane, weakly, "You loved her-- an' it was right-- because you thought I was dead an' she was alone an' needed help. I'm glad-- you love her. You've been good-- 'n' honest-- an I want some one like you to love her an' care for her. She ain't got nobody but me-- an' little Isobel. I'm glad-- glad-- I've found a man-- like you!" He suddenly wrenched his hands free and took Billy's tense face between them, staring straight into his eyes. "An'-- an'-- I give her to you," he said. "She's an angel, and she's alone-- needs some one-- an' you-- you'll be good to her. You must go down to her-- Pierre Couchée's cabin-- on the Little Beaver. An' you'll be good to her-- good to her--" "I will go to her," said Billy, softly. "And I swear here on my knees before the great and good God that I will do what an honorable man should do!" Deane's rigid body relaxed, and he sank back on his blankets with a sigh of relief. "I worried-- for her," he said. "I've always believed in a God-- though I killed a man-- an' He sent you here in time!" A sudden questioning light came into his eyes. "The man who stole little Isobel," he breathed-- "who was he?" "Pelliter-- the man out there-- killed him when he came to the cabin," said Billy. "He said his name was Blake-- Jim Blake."