"Who is it, Zinn? And how did he know I was in town?"
"It's Camillo Bill. I was tellin' I see'd you comin' in—an hour or so back, in Stoell's. Then Camillo, he goes down to the sawmill to see about some lumber, an' a log flies off the carriage an' hits him. He's busted up pretty bad. Guess he's goin' to cash in. They carried him to a shack over back of the mill an' he's hollerin' fer you."
"Come on then—quick!" cried Brent. "What the hell are you standin' there for? Have they got a doctor?"
"Yup," answered Zinn, as he hurried toward the outskirts of the town, "He'll be there by now."
Along the dark streets, and through a darker lumber yard, hurried Zinn, with Brent close at his heels urging him to greater speed. At length they passed around behind the sawmill and Brent saw that a light showed dimly in the window of a disreputable log shack that stood upon the edge of a deep ravine. The next moment he had pushed through the door, and found himself in the presence of four as evil looking specimens as ever broke the commandments. One of them he recognized as "Stumpy" Cooley, a man who, two years before had escaped the noose only by prompt action of the Mounted, after he had been duly convicted by a meeting of outraged miners of robbing a cache.
"Where's Camillo Bill?" demanded Brent, his eyes sweeping the room.
"Tuk him to the hospital jest now," informed Stumpy.
"Hospital!" cried Brent.
"Yes—built one sence you was here. But, you don't need to be in no hurry, 'cause he's out of his head, now." The man produced a bottle and pulling the cork, offered it to Brent: "Might's well have a little drink, an' we'll be goin'."
"To hell with your drinks!" cried Brent, "Where is this hospital?" Suddenly he sensed that something was wrong. And whirling saw that two of the men had slipped between himself and the door. He turned to Stumpy to see an evil grin upon the man's face.