"There was no fur on the table when we came," said Doctor Joe.

Lem made a feeble attempt to rise, but Doctor Joe pressed him gently
back upon the pillow, saying as he did so:

"You must lie quiet, Lem. Don't try to move. You're not strong
enough."

Lem, like a weary child, closed his eyes in compliance. Several
minutes elapsed before he opened them again, and then he looked
steadfastly at Doctor Joe.

"Do you know who I am?" Doctor Joe asked.

"Yes," answered Lem in a feeble voice; "you're Doctor Joe. I knows
you. I'm--glad you--came--Doctor Joe."

"Lem, you've been shot, but we'll pull you through. It isn't so bad,
but you've lost some blood, and that's left you weak for a little
while. Don't talk now. Rest, and you'll soon be on your feet again."

While Lem lay with closed eyes, Doctor Joe turned to consideration of
the crime. If it were true that a silver fox skin had been taken,
robbery was undoubtedly the motive for the shooting. But who could
have known of the existence of the skin? And who could have come to
this out-of-the-way place unobserved by the old trapper and shot him
without warning?

Instinctively Indian Jake rose before his eyes. The half-breed's
unsavoury reputation forced itself forward. And there was the