his
own, made of the roughest kind of gray jeans, home knit yarn socks and
a pair of heavy brogan shoes. A second trip brought underclothing of
the same rough quality, but Harry changed into them gladly. Jarvis
meanwhile produced a bottle filled with a brown liquid.

"You may think this is hoss liniment," he said, "an' p'r'aps it has been
used for them purposes, but it's better fur men than animiles. Ole
Aunt Suse, who is 'nigh to a hundred, got it from the Injuns an' it's
warranted to kill or cure. It'll sting at first, but just you stan' it,
an' afore long it will do you a power o' good."

Harry refused to wince while the mountaineer kneaded his bruised chest
with the liquid ointment. The burning presently gave way to a soothing
sensation.

Harry noticed that neither Jarvis nor Ike asked him the name of his
opponent nor anything at all about the struggle or its cause. They
treated it as his own private affair, of which he could speak or not as
he chose. He had noticed this quality before in mountaineers. They
were among the most inquisitive of people, but an innate delicacy would
suppress questions which an ordinary man would not hesitate to ask.

"Button up your shirt an' coat," said Jarvis at last, "an' you'll find
your chest well in a day or two. Your bein' so healthy helps you a lot.
Feelin' better already, boy? Don't 'pear as if you was tearin' out a
lung or two every time you drawed breath?"

"I'm almost well," said Harry gratefully, "and, Mr. Jarvis, I'd like to
leave my wet clothes here to dry while I'm gone. I'll be back in the
morning with my father."

"All right," said Samuel Jarvis, "but I wish you'd come bright an'
early. Me an' this lunkhead, Ike, my nephew, ain't used to great cities,
an' me bein' of an inquirin' turn o' mind we'll be anxious to see all
that's to be seed in Frankfort."

"Don't you fear," replied Harry, full of gratitude, "I'll be back soon
in the morning."

"But don't furgit one thing," continued Jarvis. "I hear there's a
mighty howdy-do here about the state goin' out o' the Union or stayin'
in it. The mountains are jest hummin' with talk about the question,
but don't make me take any part in it. Me an' this lunkhead, Ike,
my nephew, are here jest to sell logs, not to decide the fate o' states."

"I'll remember that, too," said Harry, as he shook hands warmly with
both of them, left the raft, climbed the bank and entered Frankfort.

The little town had few lig