t did not seem like Mr. Simlins,
he said, in a subdued tone,

"How do you find yourself? Can you speak now?"

"Not much--" Mr. Linden answered with some effort. "I find myself in
very kind hands."

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Somewhat--the shot scattered, I think."

There was a smothered execration, and then it was a very kind hand that
renewed the touch of cold water to his forehead, though a big, brown
and rough one.

"I've sent for the doctor--and now I'll get you a nurse. You keep
quiet, till you can do something else."

Mr. Simlins gently went forth; and in a minute after was in the midst
of his husking party in the barn.

"Reuben Taylor!" said the farmer--"You don't mind takin' a run, do you?
Wouldn't you just as lieves help me catch that black heifer--afore she
gets to Pequot?"

Reuben started up, and signified his ability to catch anything
whatever. He was not alone; for half a dozen others volunteered to be
equally ready.

"You keep where you be!" said the farmer with a wave of his hand to the
half dozen. "I don't let everybody chase that 'ere heifer--you've got
to catch her by the head and not by the foot, I tell _you!_ Reuben, you
come along."

And getting him well outside of the barn and half way towards the
house, Mr. Simlins said in a very low growl indeed,

"Mr. Linden's here--he's been hurt, somehow, in his arm--and he's kind
'o faint; I want you to stay by him till the doctor comes, and then let
me know. If I don't keep in the barn they'll raise Plute--or they'll
come in--and I'd as lieves they'd do one as 'tother."

By this time Mr. Simlins had reached the door of his room, and ushered
Reuben in. He heard--and long remembered--the smothered cry which
seemed to come no further than Reuben's lips as he stepped within the
door; but after that the boy might have been made of iron, for his
strength and steadiness. He walked up to the bedside and knelt down by
it, with a look which again Mr. Simlins could not soon forget; but his
face was quite calm, except in the first moment when Mr. Linden looked
at him. The farmer was a man of iron too, yet his voice was low and
changed from its usual wont when he spoke.

"It's only loss of blood, I guess," he said. "He'll get along. You give
him brandy, and water, Reuben, if he wants it; and call me when Dr.
Harrison comes. Can I do anything else?" The last words were gently,
even tenderly, addressed to the sufferer.

"No--" Mr. Linden said, wit