Reivers related briefly that he had been ill and had been cared for at the MacGregor cabin. “And my little Hattie is well? No harm came to her from the black devil they sent to steal her? You must know, man, they taunted me by sending——” “I know,” interrupted Reivers; and he told how he had disposed of the kidnapper. “You—you did that?” MacGregor clutched Reivers’s hand. “You saved my little Hattie?” “None of that,” snapped Reivers, snatching away his hand. “I did nothing for your little Hattie. Why should I? What is your Hattie to me? I simply put that black-beard out of business because I needed food and he had it on the sledge.” “Yet you’re not one of the gang here—now? You are no’ anything but a friend of me and mine?” “A friend?” sneered Reivers. “I’ll tell you, Mac: I’m here as my own friend, absolutely nothing else.” “But Hattie—and my brother Duncan—they understand about me now.” “They know you’re either dead or worse,” was the reply. “And they’re at Dumont’s Camp now, waiting for Moir to come there on a spree, when they expect to trail him back to this camp.” MacGregor nodded his head weakly. “Aye. Taken the trail for revenge. No less could be expected. Please Heaven, they’ll soon win here. And James MacGregor will not forget what he owes you, stranger, for the help you gave his daughter, when the time of reckoning comes with Moir and his poor curs.” Reivers laughed coldly under his breath. “You speak pretty confidently, old-times, for a man who’s trussed up the way you are.” “God willna let this dog of a Moir have his will with me much longer,” said the Scot firmly. “It isna posseeble.” “‘This dog of a Moir’ must be a better man than you are,” taunted Reivers. “He fooled you and trapped you as soon as you’d found this mine.” “Did he?” MacGregor flared up. “Shanty Moir a better man than me? Hoot, no! He fooled me, yes, for I didna know that he’d got word to these three hellions of his that the mine was here. I trusted him; he was my pardner. And when we returned with proveesions for the Winter the three devils were waiting for us, just inside the wall, where the creek comes through. Shanty Moir alone never could ha’ done it. The three of them jumped on me from above. I had no chance. Then they strapped me. “They’ve kept me strapped ever since. I’m draft beast for them. Twice a day they feed me. And between whiles Shanty Moir taunts me by playing before my eyes with the dust and nuggets that are half mine.” “Oh, well, it doesn’t look to me as if there’d be enough gold here to bother about,” said Reivers casually. “It’s nothing but a little freak pocket by the looks of it.”