rescuer. She looked at him with a trace of a
tired smile and said:

"In my arm."

After which she fainted. He picked up the young woman, carried her to
the stairs, and mounted them.

"This way," said Virginia, leading him into a bedroom, the door of
which was open.

He observed with surprise that she, too, was dressed in evening
clothes, and rightly surmised that they had just come back from some
social function.

"Is it serious?" asked Virginia, when he had laid his burden on the bed.

She was already clipping with a pair of scissors the sleeve from round
the wound.

"It ought not to be," he said after he had examined it. "The bullet has
scorched along the fleshy part of the forearm. We must telephone for a
doctor at once."

She did so, then found water and cotton for bandages, and helped him
make a temporary dressing. The patient recovered consciousness under
the touch of the cold water, and asked: what was the matter.

"You have been hurt a little, but not badly I think. Don't you
remember? You came down and opened the door to let me in."

"They were shooting at you. What for?" she wanted to know.

He smiled. "Don't worry about that. It's all over with. I'm sorry you
were hurt in saving me," said Yesler gently.

"Did I save you?" The gray eyes showed a gleam of pleasure.

"You certainly did."

"This is Mr. Yesler, Laska. Mr. Yesler--Miss Lowe. I think you have
never met."

"Never before to-night," he said, pinning the bandage in place round
the plump arm. "There. That's all just now, ma'am. Did I hurt you very
much?"

The young woman felt oddly exhilarated. "Not much. I'll forgive you if
you'll tell me all about the affair. Why did they want to hurt you?"

His big heart felt very tender toward this girl who had been wounded
for him, but he showed it only by a smiling deference.

"You're right persistent, ma'am. You hadn't ought to be bothering your
head about any such thing, but if you feel that way I'll be glad to
tell you."

He did. While they sat there and waited for the coming of the doctor,
he told her the whole story of his attempt to stop the corruption that
was eating like a canker at the life of the State. He was a plain man,
not in the least eloquent, and he told his story without any sense that
he had played any unusual part. In fact, he was ashamed that he had
been forced to assume a role which necessitated a kind of treachery to
those who thought they had bought him.

Laska Lo