All this was valuable news to Dane, and it filled him with a great
hope. He was not superstitious, so the idea of the devil did not
affect him in the least. It was Sam, no doubt, who had rescued Jean,
and was taking good care of her. His heart now was lighter than it had
been since her capture. But where was Sam? He must find him as soon
as possible. He knew where he generally camped, so he determined to go
there at once.

In his excitement he had forgotten, however, about the slashers who had
recently left the cabin. But his mind reverted to them as he looked at
the helpless, suffering creature before him.

"Where are the slashers going?" he asked.

"Against the mast-cutters," was the reply. "They have been plannin'
this fer some time, an' are expectin' to meet the men from the north
to-morrow. I hope to God they'll git the surprise of their lives.
They're devils, that's what they are, an' I hope the mast-cutters'll
kill every damn one of them. Look what they've done to me an' Tom."

"When are they planning to attack the mast-cutters?"

"Sometime to-morrow night. They're plannin' to murder every one of
them. An' they'll do it fer sure, the devils, unless the mast-cutters
are warned."

This Dane realised was only too true, and the blood surged madly
through his veins. He must reach the camp first and warn the men of
their danger. And he would lead them against the slashers, for nothing
would give him greater satisfaction than to surprise and confound those