soberly. Jot was sitting on the
edge of the lounge holding the fork in a firm grasp. Old Tilly opened
his eyes and nodded approvingly.

"That's what I tried to do myself with the handkerchief--bind it tight.
It wasn't very bad at first, but I jerked it or something. I didn't
want you fellows' good time spoiled."

"That's just like you!" burst out Kent. "You never tell when you get
hurt, for fear other folks'll be bothered."

The little woman crept back into the kitchen and went quietly about her
work.

The doctor soon came, and in a brief time the artery was taken up and
the hand deftly bandaged.

"Which of you fellows made that tourniquet with the fork?" the doctor
asked brusquely.

Kent pointed proudly to Jot.

"Oh, it was you, was it? Well, you did a mighty good thing for your
brother there. He'd have lost plenty of blood before I got here if you
hadn't."

The whole of that day and the next night the boys remained at "Jim's."
The doctor had positively objected to Old Tilly's going on without a
day's quiet.

And the little woman--the little woman would not hear of anything else
but their staying! She had been out to the barn with Jim and seen the
blackened corner. After that she hovered over the three boys like a hen
over her chickens.

"For--to think, Jim!--it was saving our home he got hurt!" she cried.

The boys talked things over together, and Kent and Jot were for turning
about and going straight home. But not so Old Tilly.

"I guess! No, sir; we'll go right ahead and have our holiday out. It's
great fun cruising round like this!"

"But your hand, Old Tilly--the doctor said--"

"To keep it quiet. He didn't say to sit down in a rocking-chair and
sing it to sleep. I guess if I can't ride a wheel with one hand, my
name isn't Nathan Eddy!"

"It isn't'" laughed Kent. "It's Old Tilly Eddy!"

But in the middle of the night a ghost appeared suddenly over Old Tilly.
The pale moonlight introduced it timidly as Jot, in his white shirt. He
sat down on the bed.

"I'm going home," he announced in a whisper. "You other fellows can do
as you like. Of course you can ride all right with one hand, if you're
bound to. But I sha'n't ride with three hands any further from home!
I'm going home! I--I feel as if I must!"

Old Tilly sat up in bed. "You sick, Jotham Eddy?" he cried.

"No--o, not sick--not reg'lar built! But I tell you I'm going home.
It's no use saying anything--I've said it."