"Listen, Ace-In-The-Hole—it's me—Kitty!"
"Kitty," murmured the man, uncertainly. "Snowdrift!"
"Yes I lit in a snowdrift all right when I jumped out the window—but how did you know? Come—wake up! Is there a light here?"
"Where am I?"
"In the shack back of the sawmill."
"Where's Camillo Bill?"
"Camillo Bill—he's up to Stoell's, I guess. But listen, give me a match."
Clumsily Brent fumbled in his pocket and produced a match. Kitty seized it, and in the flare of its flame saw a candle upon the table. She held the flame to the wick, and in the flickering light Brent sat up, and glanced about him. The air was heavy with the reek of the whiskey from the broken bottle. His head hurt, and he raised his hand and withdrew it red with blood. Then, he leaped unsteadily to his feet: "Damn 'em!" he roared, "It was a plant! What's their game?"
"I know what it is!" cried Kitty, "Quick—tell me—have you got a girl—here in Dawson?"
"Yes, yes—at Reeves—her name is Snowdrift, and she——"