to examine the unfortunate man's face and eyes. "The
Individual squeezed him a little too hard, I suppose," he added,
applying his ear to the region of the heart, and moving his head about a
little as he did so.

"I hate men who make statements about things they do not understand,"
he said viciously, looking up as he spoke, but without any expression
of satisfaction. "He is no more dead than you are--the greater pity!
It would have been so convenient. It is nothing but a slight
syncope--probably the result of poorness of blood and an over-excited
state of the nervous system. Help me to lay him on his back. You ought
to have known that was the only thing to do. Put a cushion under his
head. There--he will come to himself presently, but he will not be so
dangerous as he was."

The Wanderer drew a long breath of relief as he helped Keyork to make
the necessary arrangements.

"How long will it last?" he inquired.

"How can I tell?" returned Keyork sharply. "Have you never heard of a
syncope? Do you know nothing about anything?"

He had produced a bottle containing some very strong salt and was
applying it to the unconscious man's nostrils. The Wanderer paid no
attention to his irritable temper and stood looking on. A long time
passed and yet the Moravian gave no further signs of consciousness.

"It is clear that he cannot stay here if he is to be seriously ill," the
Wanderer said.

"And it is equally clear that he cannot be taken away," retorted Keyork.

"You seem to be in a very combative frame of mind," the other answered,
sitting down and looking at his watch. "If you cannot revive him, he
ought to be brought to more comfortable quarters for the night."

"In his present condition--of course," said Keyork with a sneer.

"Do you think he would be in danger on the way?"

"I never think--I know," snarled the sage.

The Wanderer showed a slight surprise at the roughness of the answer,
but said nothing, contenting himself with watching the proceedings
keenly. He was by no means past suspecting that Keyork might apply
some medicine the very reverse of reviving, if left to himself. For
the present there seemed to be no danger. The pungent smell of salts
of ammonia pervaded the place; but the Wanderer knew that Keyork had a
bottle of ether in the pocket of his coat, and he rightly judged that a
very little of that would put an end to the life that was hanging in
the balance. Nearly half an hour passed before either