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Updated: June 19, 2025
A peculiar sound from the man on the floor caused him to hasten to his side. In an instant he saw that all was over, and that the earthly career of Bill Botreau was ended. There was little now that Dane could do. He did not fancy the idea of leaving the bodies lying there uncovered, so going outside he cut and carried in a large armful of spruce boughs. These he spread carefully over the bodies.
"Who are you, anyway? and what has happened?" "I'm Bill Botreau, an' the slashers have fixed me. Tom's dead. That's him jist over there." Drawing a small candle from his pocket, Dane stepped over to the fire-place, and lighted it at one of the live coals which still remained. He was thus enabled to see more clearly, and the sight which met his eyes gave him a severe shock.
"When did the slashers leave here?" he asked. "When?" Botreau repeated in a dazed manner. "I don't know when. But it seems an age." "Then, I must get ahead of them, and warn the mast-cutters." But the stricken man gave a pitiful cry, and reaching out, caught Dane feebly by the hand. "Don't leave me," he pleaded. "I'm dyin', an' I'm afraid to die alone.
I am Dane Norwood, the King's ranger." "Good Lord!" Botreau gasped. "Do it quick, then, fer God's sake." "Do what?" "Finish what them devils nearly did. I deserve it." "I'm not a brute even if you are," Dane declared. "I want to help you, not kill you." "But I'm beyond help, an' will soon be like Tom there." "How did it happen?" "Too much rum an' a fight.
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