Shanks stepped up to him.
“That score will be settled in less’n an hour. The Injuns got D’Arcy over the heart. Go in and see. I reckon you’ll find there’s no need to settle scores.”
Lonagon, realizing that nothing could worsen D’Arcy’s condition, turned away and watched Jim enter the cabin.
Once inside the door, Jim saw that the two 223 men had spoken the truth. D’Arcy’s deathly white face was turned towards him and the hands were clenched on the brown blanket. Providence was robbing him of his vengeance, and despite his crushing sense of failure, somewhere in his heart leapt a great gladness. He approached the bed, and the sound of his heavy tread awoke the dying man to consciousness. He turned his glassy eyes on his visitor, and for a moment failed to recognize him. Then memory came.
“You—you are the man—I saw—on the bank at Dawson.... Angela’s husband!”
Jim nodded grimly.
“I’ve come,” he said. “Didn’t you know I’d come?”