"The man is right," cried George; "I cannot suffer such things to pass under my roof. I protest, in the name of humanity, against all that is being done. You dishonour me by acting in this manner here." "The jurisdiction of Judge Lynch is universal in the desert," was the cold reply; "none can check it. This man is an outlaw of the prairies, a man of blood and crime. Louis Querehard, Paul Sambrun, Tom Mitchell, and half a dozen aliases--you see we know you well--eleven days ago you basely attacked an old man in charge of a young girl; you killed the old man from behind at the Elk's Leap. Where is the young girl?" "Base calumny," cried the wounded man, sitting up suddenly; "I know not what you mean. I killed no old man." "I repeat that you killed the old man and stole away the girl. I have the proofs," he answered. The wounded man sat biting his lips with rage. "This morning," continued Bright-eye, "you quarrelled with one of your accomplices, while crossing this valley, and fell from the treachery of your fellow bandit." "Falsehood!" cried the wounded man. "We shall soon see," said the Canadian, coldly, and putting his fingers to his lips he uttered a shrill whistle. A noise was heard and several men entered. These were Keen-hand, two servants of Clinton, and a prisoner--a man of wretched, mean, and ignoble appearance. "This is your accomplice," said Bright-eye. "I don't know him," replied the wounded man. "You don't know me?" cried the other; "Really now, have you already forgotten poor Camotte?" "You declare this man unknown to you?" said the judge. "Well, be it so. Now, fellow," to the man Camotte, "will you confess?" "Caray, yes," said the prisoner, "anything you like." "Speak then," responded Bright-eye: "we wait." "Miserable wretch," asked the wounded man, "are you a traitor?" "My good sir, I object to be hung," he answered. "It is useless to question that rascal," said the wounded man. "I will tell you all you want to know; but before we go any further it must be on one condition." "We decline to accept conditions," was the reply. "Then beware. I alone know where the young girl is concealed. Refuse my conditions and my secret dies with me." "It is true," said Camotte, in answer to a look from Bright-eye. "What are your conditions?" resumed the judge. "My life, liberty, and three hours' start," said the outlaw; "also the company of my friend Camotte yonder," he added, with a sneer, as that individual shivered; "further, I require my horse, arms, and my valise. On these conditions you shall have the young girl: I swear it." "Anything else?" continued the judge. "One moment," observed George; "I ask for him eight days to recover from his wound, during which time he shall remain here under my guardianship and yours." "We consent," said Bright-eye, gloomily; "now speak." "The girl is concealed twelve miles away, in the Cavern of the Elk. I was going there with food when I was shot. Make haste."