fellow, especially a fellow that loves you like the mischief. And
besides, why did father cut him out? Pretty mean thing for a man to
slip around and steal his brother's sweetheart. In this country it
would mean blood."

"You are a jewel, my boy."

"No, I'm simply just. Of course, two wrongs don't make a right, as the
saying has it, but a wrong with a cause is half-way right, and I'll
tell them at the very start that they better not talk about the
matter. In fact, I told them so in the letter. You've had a pretty
hard time of it, haven't you, Hank?"

"I shouldn't want an enemy's dog to have a harder one," DeGolyer
answered.

"But you've got a good education."

"So has the hog that picks up cards and tells the time of day," said
DeGolyer, "but what good does that do him? He has to work harder than
other hogs, and is kept hungry so that he may perform with more
sprightliness. But if I have a good education, my boy, I stole it, and
I shouldn't be surprised at any time to meet an officer with a warrant
of arrest sworn out against me by society."

"Good; but you didn't steal trash at any rate. But, Hank, you look for
the dark when the light would serve you better. Don't do it. Throw off
your trouble."

"Oh, I'm not disposed to look so much for the dark as you may imagine.
Throw it off! That's good advice. It is true that we may sometimes
throw off a trouble, but we can't very well throw off a cause. Some
natures are like a piece of fly-paper--a sorrow alights and sticks
there. But that isn't my nature. It doesn't take much to make me
contented."

The weather remained pleasant, and the travelers were within a day's
ride of Dura, when Witherspoon complained one morning of feeling ill,
and by noon be could scarcely sit in his saddle.

"Let us stop somewhere," DeGolyer urged.

"No," Witherspoon answered, "let us get to Dura as soon as we can.
I've got a fever, haven't I?"

DeGolyer leaned over and placed his hand on Witherspoon's forehead.
"Yes, you have."

"The truth is, I haven't felt altogether right since the first day
after we started, but I thought it would wear off."

When they reached Dura, Witherspoon was delirious. Not a ship was in
port, and DeGolyer took him to an inn and summoned such medical aid as
the hamlet afforded. The physician naturally gave the case a
threatening color, and it followed that he was right, for at the
close of the fourth day the patient gave no promise of improvement.
The in