ct
appeared enclosed in funereal walls; a cool searching breath of air that
seemed to have crept through the bracken and undergrowth like a stealthy
animal, lifted the curls on his hot forehead. He grasped his hatchet
firmly as against possible wild beasts, and as a medicinal and remedial
precaution, took another turn with his suspender around his bandage.
It occurred to him then that he would probably die. They would all feel
exceedingly sorry and alarmed, and regret having made him wash himself
on Saturday night. They would attend his funeral in large numbers in
the little graveyard, where a white tombstone inscribed to "John Filgee,
fell in a duel at the age of seven," would be awaiting him. He would
forgive his brother, his father, and Mr. Ford. Yet even then he vaguely
resented a few leaves and twigs dropped by a woodpecker in the tree
above him, with a shake of his weak fist and an incoherent declaration
that they couldn't "play no babes in the wood on HIM." And then having
composed himself he once more turned on his side to die, as became the
scion of a heroic race! The free woods, touched by an upspringing wind,
waved their dark arms above him, and higher yet a few patient stars
silently ranged themselves around his pillow.

But with the rising wind and stars came the swift trampling of horses'
hoofs and the flashing of lanterns, and Doctor Duchesne and the master
swept down into the opening.

"It was here," said the master quickly, "but they must have taken him on
to his own home. Let us follow."

"Hold on a moment," said the doctor, who had halted before the tree.
"What's all this? Why, it's baby Filgee--by thunder!"

In another moment they had both dismounted and were leaning over the
half conscious child. Johnny turned his feverishly bright eyes from the
lantern to the master and back again.

"What is it, Johnny boy?" asked the master tenderly. "Were you lost?"

With a gleam of feverish exaltation, Johnny rose, albeit wanderingly, to
the occasion!

"Hit!" he lisped feebly, "Hit in a doell! at the age of theven."

"What!" asked the bewildered master.

But Doctor Duchesne, after a single swift scrutiny of the boy's face,
had unearthed him from his nest of leaves, laid him in his lap, and
deftly ripped away the preposterous bandage. "Hold the light here. By
Jove! he tells the truth. Who did it, Johnny?"

But Johnny was silent. In an interval of feverish consciousness and
pain, his perception and mem