g, thrust them
into his pocket, altered the chalked figure above the peg, and resumed
his place.

When Derrick and Paul reached the Tooleys' house it seemed to them even
more noisy than usual. Several women sat gossiping with Mrs. Tooley in
the door-way, while a dozen children and several dogs ran screaming or
barking and quarrelling in and out of the room where the sick boy lay.

They asked his mother how he was, and what the doctor had said of his
condition.

"Ye can go in and see for yourselves how he is," was the reply, "there's
naught to hinder. Doctor said he was to be kept perfectly quiet and have
nussin', but how he's going to get either with them brats rampaging and
howling, and me the only one to look after them, is more than I know."

Accepting this invitation, the boys stepped inside, and picking their
way among the children and dogs to the untidy bed on which Bill lay,
spoke to him and asked him if there was anything they could do for him.

He was conscious, though very weak and in great pain, and on opening his
eyes he whispered, "Water."

For more than an hour he had longed for it, until his parched tongue was
ready to cleave to the roof of his mouth, but nobody had come near him,
and he could not make himself heard above the noise of the children.

Taking the tin dipper that lay on a chair beside the bed Derrick went
out to the hydrant to fill it with the cool mountain water that flowed
there.

Paul drew a tattered window-shade so that the hot western sun should not
shine full in the sick boy's face, loosened his shirt at the neck,
smoothed back the matted hair from his forehead, and with a threatening
shake of his crutch, drove a howling dog and several screaming children
from the room.

These little attentions soothed the sufferer, and he looked up
gratefully and wonderingly at Paul. When Derrick returned with the water
he lifted his head, and stretched out his hand eagerly for it. At that
moment Mrs. Tooley came bustling to the bedside to see what the boys
were doing. Catching sight of the dipper she snatched it from Derrick's
hand, crying out that it would kill the boy to give him cold water, "and
him ragin' wid a fever." This so frightened the boys that they hurriedly
took their departure, and poor Bill cast such a wistful, despairing
glance after them as they left the house that their hearts were filled
with pity for him.

At the supper-table that evening Derrick asked:

"Does it hurt