he?"

"Now, ain't that the truth?" said Sim Gage, perhaps not quite fully
understanding.

CHAPTER XVIII

DONNA QUIXOTE

At ten of the following morning Mrs. Jensen had finished "redding up,"
as she called it, and had gone out into the yard. Doctor Barnes, alone
at the bedside of his patient, was not professionally surprised when
she opened her eyes.

"Well, how's everything this morning?" he said quietly. "Better, eh?"

She did not speak for some time, but turned toward him. "Who are you?"
she asked presently.

"Nobody in particular," he answered. "Only the doctor person. I was
up in the mountains with you yesterday."

"Was it yesterday?" said she. "Yes, I remember!"

"What became of him?" she asked after a time. "That awful man--I had
it in my heart to kill him!"

Doctor Barnes made no comment, and after a while she went on, speaking
slowly.

"He said so many things. Why, those men would do anything?"

"He'll not do any more treason," said Doctor Barnes.

"What do you mean?"

"A tree fell on him. I got there too late to be of any use."

"He's dead?"

"Yes. Don't let's talk of that."

"I've got to live?"

"Yes."

"Who are you?" she inquired after a time. "You're a doctor?"

"I'm your sort, yes, Miss Warren," said he.

"A gentleman."

"Relative term!"

"You've been very good. Where do you live?"

"Down at the Government dam, below here. I'm the Company doctor."

"Well, why don't you go? Am I going to live, or can I die?"

"What brought you out here, Miss Warren," said he at last. "You don't
belong in a place like this."

"Where then do I belong?" she asked. "Food and a bed--that's more than
I can earn."

"Maybe we can fix up a way for you to be useful, if you don't go away."
He spoke so gently, she began to trust him.

"But I'm not going away. I have no place to go to." She smiled
bitterly. "I haven't money enough to buy my ticket back home if I had
a home to go to. That's the truth. Why didn't you let me die?"

"You ought to want to live," said Doctor Barnes. "The lane turns,
sometimes."

"Not for me. Worse and worse, that's all. . . . I'll have to tell
you-- I don't like to tell strangers, about myself. But, you see, my
brother was killed in the war. We had some money once, my brother and
I. Our banker lost it for us. I had to work, and then, after he went
away, I began to--to lose my eyes."

"How long was that coming on?"

"Two years--a