The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. He was in a curious state of desperation. Spurlock. Acting upon this humane determination, he impelled himself slowly backwards,—for he did not dare to face the blast,—and with incredible labour and fatigue reached the crevice. ’ ‘But you are bleeding like a pig,’ came the frantic response. He thrust the smaller weapon into a scabbard that hung from his belt. ‘You would have a history of my life? Very well. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room. Without whisky," went on McClintock, "your irritability is beyond tolerance.
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