t under the
circumstances he would restore him to consciousness in three hours.

"One or two of them got excited and swore the man was dead, and
according to a lot of tests he was, but the rest, knowing he would have
died anyhow, were willing to wait, and at the end of the time Earl
brought him back to consciousness in such good condition that the other
doctors were wild over it. In their enthusiastic French way they
heralded the story everywhere. I thought he'd never be allowed to leave
Paris. They wanted to keep him right there and string medals around his
neck and pin ribbons all over his coat, but he wouldn't stand for it.
He's an awfully modest fellow, and he went over to London with Hall, who
swears by him; says he believes he put a new heart in him, and all that
sort of thing. There comes the boat now. Better have your photographers
ready, for all you'll get will be a picture of him keeping his mouth
shut."

As the big English boat swung slowly into its dock, with the help of
half a dozen tugs that puffed and pounded at its side, the newspaper men
and Dr. Earl's family caught sight of him simultaneously, as he waved
his hand and called across the intervening space with all the abandon
of a returning traveler.

He could make them hear now. "Leonora, dear, how are you!" as a
remarkably sweet-faced girl threw a shower of kisses in his direction,
which passed on their way an equal number of his own. "And Hilda! And
for the life of me, there's Frank! Love to all of you!" A few minutes
more and he was with them. He caught the girl in his arms and gave her a
long and tender embrace. Then he turned to the others and greeted them
with all the fraternal warmth natural after eighteen months' separation.

"How splendid it is to see you all again! What brought you to New York,
Frank?"

"Oh, just to see if I could cross Broadway without being bumped into by
a trolley car or a taxi-cab or an airship. Incidentally, to keep you
from losing your breath and hearing in the new tunnels through which you
will be shot under these New York rivers."

"Tubes, you mean, brother dear, tubes. I've been doing nothing else but
shoot the London tubes for the last fortnight."

"Where I live, in the wild and woolly Rockies, we call them tunnels,"
answered his brother. "Wouldn't the railroad builder howl at the idea
of 'tubing the mountains,' and the miner would have a war-dance of
delight at the suggestion that he must 'tube his claim.' T