Blake leaned forward and fought away the flies again.
"Then it 's a good thing I got up with you."
The sick man rolled his eyes in their sockets, so as to bring his enemy into his line of vision.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I 'm not going to let you die," was Blake's answer.
"You can't help it, Jim! The jig 's up!"
"I 'm going to get a litter and get you up out o' this hell-hole of a swamp," announced Blake. "I 'm going to have you carried up to the hills. Then I 'm going back to Chalavia to get a doctor o' some kind. Then I 'm going to put you on your feet again!"
Binhart slowly moved his head from side to side. Then the heat-lightning smile played about the hollow face again.
"It was some chase, Jim, was n't it?" he said, without looking at his old-time enemy.
Blake stared down at him with his haggard hound's eyes; there was no answering smile on his heavy lips, now furzed with their grizzled
