e was partially disrobed and compelled
to lie down upon the bed. There one or both of them sat and watched the
rest of the livelong day. There, finally, after nightfall a trained
nurse took station with attendants in readiness in the hallway, for
delirium had set in and Dwight's condition was declared critical.

Bad as it was, this was by no means the sole topic of talk for
Minneconjou's seething population. Among the women, Mrs. Ray stood
foremost as heroine of the occasion, and half the feminine element of
the garrison had been to call and congratulate and praise her before the
day was done. But Marion was in no mood for either. It had come to her
as a vital question what to do with Priscilla. Sandy had charged his
cousin in so many words with having deliberately incited Major Dwight to
his furious and unreasoning assault, so Sandy regarded it, upon his only
son, and Sandy had for a week or more been looking upon Dwight as a
wronged and injured man. Priscilla, as we know, had virtually and
virtuously admitted much of her error to Aunt Marion, but persisted that
though they both, Mrs. Thornton and she, considered that it was high
time Jimmy was punished instead of petted, they never dreamed to what
length the father would go. "Punished for what?" indignantly demanded
Aunt Marion. "For his having so cruelly hurt Georgie Thornton, and then
denying all knowledge of it," was the reply. Words are inadequate to
describe the indignation with which Mrs. Ray heard and answered. Jimmy
never knew it at the time or heard, until late that night, of what had
happened. Hogan, and others for that matter, saw the entire affair.
Jimmy was whirling his English-made jacket about his head as he raced in
pursuit of the leader, never realizing that Georgie Thornton, swift
almost as himself, was close at his right hand. The button had cut its
keen-edged way without so much as a shock or pause. Jimmy never even
suspected it. In that, as in everything else, said she, he had told his
father the entire truth, though Mrs. Ray herself hardly dreamed how much
he had to tell. So by noontime Priscilla had again shut herself in her
room to ponder over the miscarriage of her excellent intentions, and to
pray, as well she might, for future guidance.

But while at the Rays', and possibly at the Dwights', there was little
thought or talk of any other topic all the morning, all over the
garrison was buzzing a second story that started soon after the newsboy