“I pretty near bored a hole through poor Joe when I come up,” he chuckled.  “But you bet I hugged him when I found what he’d done, Johnny!  Joe says their camp was just over the range from us that night FitzHugh looked us up, an’ Joanne thought she’d been dreamin’.  He didn’t have any help, but his intention was to finish us alone—­murder us asleep—­when Joanne cried out.  Joe says it was just a devil’s freak that took ’im to the top of the mountain alone that night.  He saw our fire an’ came down to investigate.”

A low voice was calling outside the door.  It was Marie.  As Joanne went to her a quick gleam came into old Donald’s eyes.  He looked behind him cautiously to see that she had disappeared, then he bent over Aldous, and whispered hoarsely: 

“Johnny, I had a most cur’ous word with Rann—­or FitzHugh—­afore he died!  He wasn’t dead when I went to him.  But he knew he was dyin’; an’ Johnny, he was smilin’ an’ cool to the end.  I wanted to ask ’im a question, Johnny.  I was dead cur’ous to know why the grave were empty! But he asked for Joanne, an’ I couldn’t break in on his last breath.  I brought her.  The first thing he asked her was how people had took it when they found out he’d poisoned his father!  When Joanne told him no one had ever thought he’d killed his father, FitzHugh sat leanin’ against the saddles for a minit so white an’ still I thought he ’ad died with his eyes open.  Then it came out, Johnny.  He was smilin’ as he told it.  He killed his father with poison to get his money.  Later he came to America.  He didn’t have time to tell us how he come to think they’d discovered his crime.  He was dyin’ as he talked.  It came out sort o’ slobberingly, Johnny.  He thought they’d found ’im out.  He changed his name, an’ sent out the report that Mortimer FitzHugh had died in the mount’ins.  But Johnny, he died afore I could ask him about the grave!”

There was a final note of disappointment in old Donald’s voice that was almost pathetic.

“It was such a cur’ous grave,” he said.  “An’ the clothes were laid out so prim an’ nice.”

Aldous laid his hand on MacDonald’s.

“It’s easy, Mac,” he said, and he wanted to laugh at the disappointment that was still in the other’s face.  “Don’t you see?  He never expected any one to dig into the grave.  And he put the clothes and the watch and the ring in there to get rid of them.  They might have revealed his identity.  Why, Donald——­”

Joanne was coming to them again.  She laid a cool hand on his forehead and held up a warning finger to MacDonald.

“Hush!” she said gently, “Your head is very hot, dear, and there must be no more talking.  You must lie down and sleep.  Tell John good-night, Donald!”

Like a boy MacDonald did as she told him, and disappeared through the cabin door.  Joanne levelled the pillows and lowered John’s head.

“I can’t sleep, Joanne,” he protested.