When he opened his eyes it was day, and the half-breed stood at the opening of the tent. His face was filled with horror. His voice was almost a scream when he saw that MacVeigh was awake and sitting up. "The great God in heaven!" he cried. "It is the plague, m'sieur-- le mort rouge-- the small pox! She is dying--" MacVeigh was on his feet, gripping him by the arms. He turned and ran toward the cabin, and Billy saw that the half-breed's team was harnessed, and that Pierre's wife was bringing forth blankets and bundles. He did not wait to question them, but hurried into the plague-stricken cabin. From the woman's room came a low moaning, and he rushed in and fell upon his knees at her side. Her face was flushed with the fever, half hidden in the disheveled masses of her hair. She recognized him, and her dark eyes burned madly. "Take-- the baby!" she panted. "My God-- go-- go with her!" Tenderly he put out a hand and stroked back her hair from her face. "You are sick-- sick with the bad fever," he said, gently. "Yes-- yes, it is that. I did not think-- until last night-- what it might be. You-- you love me! Then take her-- take the baby and go-- go-- go!" All his old strength came back to him now. He felt no fear. He smiled down into her face, and the silken touch of her hair set his heart leaping and the love into his eyes. "I will take her out there," he said. "But she is all right-- Isobel." He spoke her name almost pleadingly. "She is all right. She will not take the fever." He picked up the child and carried her out into the larger room. Pierre and his wife were at the door. They were dressed for travel, as he had seen them come in off the trap line the evening before. He dropped Isobel and sprang in front of them. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "You are not going away! You cannot go!" He turned almost fiercely upon the woman. "She will die-- if you do not stay and care for her. You shall not run away!" "It is the plague," said Pierre. "It is death to remain!" "You shall stay!" said MacVeigh, still speaking to Pierre's wife. "You are the one woman-- the only woman-- within a hundred miles. She will die without you. You shall stay if I have to tie you!" With the quickness of a cat Pierre raised the butt of the heavy dog-whip which he held in his hand and it came down with a sickening thud on Billy's head. As he staggered into the middle of the cabin floor, groping blindly for a moment before he fell, he heard a strange, terrified cry, and in the open inner door he saw the white-robed figure of Isobel Deane. Then he sank down into a pit of blackness.