d as Phil greeted him, but his
face remained solemn. He kept at the table while Phil washed and dried
his face and hands. Phil went in to him at last and sat down on the
bed watching Jim intently.

"Come on, old cock!" he cried, "wake up. These dime 'bloods' are
getting your goat. Cut loose from them--it's Christmas Eve, and, glory
be! we are not in the workhouse.

"Hullo!--what have you been doing with my old gum boots? Gee,--I
haven't seen them for a dog's age."

That gave Jim his opening. He rose and went over to the bed, holding
out his hand to his partner.

"Phil, old boy, if you get angry with me I'm going to be dog-goned
sorry. I've got something on my chest and I've got to get it off.

"You won't get mad!"

The big, rugged, raw-boned Scot caught Phil in his arms and hugged him
as if he were a sweetheart.

Usually so undemonstrative, Phil was taken aback at Jim's behaviour;
and Jim, immediately ashamed for his outward show of emotion, sat
down beside Phil and looked at the floor between his legs.

Phil clapped him on the back and Jim drew himself together.

"How long ago is it since you had these boots on, Phil?"

"Oh,--I guess I haven't had them on since before----" He reddened.
"Oh!--four or five years, maybe. They never fitted me very well."

"My own broke on the soles yesterday and I simply had to have
something of the kind when cleaning out the stable to-day, so I hunted
out yours from your old kit bag."

"You're heartily welcome to them, Jim,--if that is all."

Jim turned a curious glance at Phil.

"You good old scout!" he said. Then he changed quickly. "Och,--what's
the use o' me beating about. Phil,--that--that fell out of the toe of
one of the boots when I was trying to get them on."

He held out a dirty, crumpled piece of paper.

Phil took it from him and looked it over casually.

"It was twisted up, almost to the size of a marble."

Suddenly Phil's face took on an ashy hue and he gasped.

"Great God; I--I----"

He jumped up, then caught at the bed-post for support as he tried to
gather his wits and to quiet his wildly thumping heart.

"You--you----It is all right, Jim," he stammered. "It is of no
importance."

Jim rose and placed his arm round his chum.

"Phil, old chap,--it isn't any good to pretend. I'm an interfering
lout, I know, and I shouldn't have done it. I have made out all that
it says, and, oh God!--but you're a game sport--even if you have been
a darned fool ab