“I don’ know.”  ’Poleon frowned in deep perplexity.  “Dere’s doctor in dere now,” he nodded toward the Gold Belt.  “I’m goin’ tak’ him to her, but she mus’ have woman for tak’ care of her.  Mebbe Madame la Comtesse—­”

“Why, the Countess is gone!  She left at daylight.  Me ‘n’ the Kid are to follow as soon as we get our skiff fixed.”

“Gone?”

“Sure!”

“Sacre!  De one decent woman in dis place, Wal!” ’Poleon shrugged.  “Dose dance-hall gal’ is got good heart—­”

“Hell!  They pulled out ahead of our gang Best ran his boats through the White Horse late yesterday and he was off before it was light.  I know, because Phillips told me.  He’s joined out with ’em—­blew in early and got his war-bag.  He left the Countess flat.”

Doret was dumfounded at this news and he showed his dismay.

“But—­dere’s no more women here!” he stammered.  “Dat young lady she’s seeck; she mus’ be nurse’.  By Gar!  Who’s goin’ do it, eh?”

The three of them were anxiously discussing the matter when they were joined by the doctor to whom ’Poleon had referred.  “I’ve done all there is to do here,” the physician announced.  “Now about Kirby’s daughter.  You say she’s delirious?” The pilot nodded.  He told of Rouletta’s drenching on the afternoon previous and of the state in which he had just found her.  “Jove!  Pneumonia, most likely.  It sounds serious, and I’m afraid I can’t do much.  You see I’m all ready to go, but—­of course I’ll do what I can.”

“Who’s goin’ nurse her?” ’Poleon demanded for a second time.  “Dere ain’t no women in dis place.”

The physician shook his head.  “Who indeed?  It’s a wretched situation!  If she’s as ill as you seem to think, why, we’ll have to do the best we can, I suppose.  She probably won’t last long.  Come!” Together he and the French Canadian hurried away.

CHAPTER XV

It was afternoon when Lucky Broad and Kid Bridges came to ’Poleon Doret’s tent and called its owner outside.

“We’re hitched up and ready to say ‘gid-dap,’ but we came back to see how Letty’s getting along,” the former explained.

’Poleon shook his head doubtfully; his face was grave.  “She’s bad seeck.”

“Does she know about old Sam?”

“She ain’t know not’in’.  She’s crazee altogether.  Poor li’l gal, she’s jus’ lak baby.  I’m scare’ as hell.”

The confidence-men stared at each other silently; then they stared at Doret.  “What we goin’ to do about it?” the Kid inquired, finally.

’Poleon was at a loss for an answer; he made no secret of his anxiety.  “De doctor say she mus’ stay right here—­”

“Here?”

“He say if she get cold once more—­pouf!  She die lak dat!  Plenty fire, plenty blanket, medicine every hour, dat’s all.  I’m prayin’ for come along some woman—­any kin’ of woman at all—­I don’ care if she’s squaw.”