You and your friend are to answer for the killing of Pierre Thoreau and for the attempted murder of this young man, who will follow us to Fort Smith to testify against you." It was evident that the half-breed did not understand, and the doctor added a few explanatory words in French.

The man on the floor groaned and struggled until he was red in the face.
"Easy, easy," soothed the doctor.

"I appreciate the fact that it is pretty tough luck, Dobson, but you'll have to take your medicine.
Falkner, if you'll lend a hand in getting me off I won't lose much time in starting for Fort Smith." It was a strange-looking outfit that set out from Pierre Thoreau's cabin half an hour later.

Ahead of the team which had come that morning walked the breed, his left arm bound to his side with a babiche thong.

On the sledge behind him lay an inanimate and blanket-wrapped bundle, which was Dobson; and close at the rear of the sledge, stripped of his greatcoat and more than ever like a diminutive drum-major, followed Dudley McGill, professor of neurology and diseases of the brain, with a bulldog revolver in his mittened hand.
From the door Falkner watched them go.
Six hours later Philip returned from the east.