the truth that few other men, even in the Western
States, would ever have got over such a wound. I am not learned enough
to say exactly where the damage was, but the doctor called it, I think,
the sternum, and pronounced that "a building-up process" was required,
and must take a long time, if it ever could be done.

It was done at last, thanks to Suan Isco, who scarcely ever left him
by day or night, and treated him skillfully with healing herbs. But he,
without meaning it, vexed her often by calling for me--a mere ignorant
child. Suan was dreadfully jealous of this, and perhaps I was proud of
that sentiment of hers, and tried to justify it, instead of laboring
to remove it, as would have been the more proper course. And Firm most
ungratefully said that my hand was lighter than poor Suan's, and every
thing I did was better done, according to him, which was shameful on his
part, and as untrue as any thing could be. However, we yielded to him
in all things while he was so delicate; and it often made us poor weak
things cry to be the masters of a tall strong man.

Firm Gundry received that shot in May, about ten days before the
twelvemonth was completed from my father's death. The brightness of
summer and beauty of autumn went by without his feeling them, and while
his system was working hard to fortify itself by walling up, as the
learned man had called it. There had been some difficulties in this
process, caused partly, perhaps, by our too lavish supply of the raw
material; and before Firm's gap in his "sternum" was stopped, the
mountains were coming down upon us, as we always used to say when the
snow-line stooped. In some seasons this is a sharp time of hurry, broken
with storms, and capricious, while men have to slur in the driving
weather tasks that should have been matured long since. But in other
years the long descent into the depth of winter is taken not with a
jump like that, but gently and softly and windingly, with a great many
glimpses back at the summer, and a good deal of leaning on the arm of
the sun.

And so it was this time. The autumn and the winter for a fortnight stood
looking quietly at each other. They had quite agreed to share the hours,
to suit the arrangements of the sun. The nights were starry and fresh
and brisk, without any touch of tartness; and the days were sunny
and soft and gentle, without any sense of languor. It was a lovely
scene--blue shadows gliding among golden light.

The Sawy