of their tears and she felt the
wide, dry eyes of the man searching her, a spasm of pain contracted her
heart.

"He don't know me!" she cried to the slatternly maid, who stood watching
the scene with deep sympathy.

Harold spoke petulantly: "Go away and tell Mary I want her. It costs too
much for her to sing, or else she'd come. These people won't let me get
up, but Reynolds will be here soon and then something will rip wide
open. They took my guns and my saddle. If I had old Kintuck here I could
ride to Mary. She said she'd sing for me every Sunday. Look here, I want
ice on my head. This pillow has been heated. I don't want a hot
pillow--and I don't want my arms covered. Say, I wish you'd send word to
old Jack. I don't know where he is, but he'd come--so will Reynolds.
These policemen will have a hot time keeping me here after they come.
It's too low here, I must take Mary away--it's healthier in the
mountains. It ain't so hot----"

Out of this stream of loosely uttered words the princess caught and held
little more than the names "Jack" and "Mary."

"Who is Jack?" she softly asked.

Harold laughed. "Don't you know old freckle-faced Jack? Why, I'd know
Jack in the dark of a cave. He's my friend--my old chum. He didn't
forget me when they sent me to jail. Neither did Mary. She sung for me."

"Can't you tell me Mary's name?"

"Why, it's just Mary, Mary Yardwell."

"Where does she live?"

"Oh, don't bother me," he replied irritably. "What do you want to know
for?"

The princess softly persisted, and he said: "She lives in the East. In
Chicago. It's too far off to find her. It takes five days to get down
there on a cattle train, and then you have to look her up in a
directory, and then trail her down. I couldn't find her."

The princess took down Mary's name and sent a messenger to try to find
the address of this woman who was more to the delirious man than all the
rest of the world.

As he tossed and muttered she took possession of the house. "Is this the
worst room you have? Get the best bed in the house ready. I want this
man to have the cleanest room you have. Hurry! Telephone to the Western
Palace and ask Doctor Sanborn to come at once--tell him Mrs. Raimon
wants him."

Under her vigorous action one of the larger rooms was cleared out and
made ready, and when the doctor came Harold was moved, under his
personal supervision. "I shall stay here till he is out of danger," she
said to the doctor as he w