Then Sim Gage did what ordinarily might not have been a wise thing to do. Without pause he swept aside the tent flap with the barrel of his rifle, and stepped in, quickly covering the prostrate figure that lay on the bloody blankets before him.
Big Aleck was able to do more than move. He raised one hand, feebly, imploring mercy.
"Come out, damn you!" said Sim Gage, his hand at the dollar of the crippled man. He dragged his prisoner out into the light and threw him full length,—mercilessly—upon the needle-covered sand.
The crippled man began to weep, to beg. It was small mercy he saw as he looked from face to face.
"That's my man," exclaimed Doctor Barnes. "But it's not any accident with a tree. That's gun shot!"
"Who done that work down below?" demanded Sim of the prostrate man. "Where is she? Tell me!" His voice still rang high and imperative.
Big Aleck shivered where he lay. Now he too saw the flames on ahead in the woods.
"Who set that fire?" demanded the Doctor suddenly. "Whose work was that?"
"It was sabcats!" said Big Aleck, frightened into an ingenious lie. "They was in here. I'm the government foreman. I don't know how they got in or got out. They must of set a 'clock' somewhere for to start it."
"Who do you mean—sabcats?" demanded Doctor Barnes. The other three stood coldly and implacably staring at the crippled man.