yes closed, breathing heavily.
Evidently he was trying to collect his thoughts, to realize his
situation. When he opened his eyes again there was a solemn, an awed
look in them that had not been there before, and the anger had gone.

"I have been stabbed," he said slowly, "and I am dying."

"No, no. The knife did not go near your heart. It struck too low. You
will soon be all right again. Wait until we get you home and mother will
soon make a whole man of you. Mother is about the best nurse in all
California," and Thure gripped one of the hard toil-worn hands and
smiled encouragingly.

"No." As the man spoke his eyes never once left Thure's face. "No, I am
dying. I know. I was once a surgeon, an army surgeon." For a moment his
eyes darkened, as if with bitter recollections. "But, what matters the
past now? Let it bury its dead," and he smiled grimly. "This is death.
I know. I have seen many die just this way. Internal hemorrhage, we
doctors called it. The blood from the wound is flowing into my body.
I can feel it. I have half an hour, possibly an hour to live; and
then--" The awed look in the eyes deepened, and, for a couple of minutes,
he did not speak, but lay staring straight up into the blue skies.
Suddenly his white lips tightened and he turned to Thure.

"How far is it to your home and to your mother?" he asked abruptly.

"About three miles; but I can carry you so easily that I am sure--"

"Too far," the wounded man broke in impatiently. "I might die before I
got there. No, this shall be my deathbed--the soft green grass, canopied
by the blue skies--a fitting end, a fitting end," he added gloomily.

"Come, come," and Thure tried to make his voice sound cheery and full of
hope. "Never say die, until you are dead. Just wait until we get home
and mother will put new life into you. Now, I'll get on my horse, and
Bud will lift you up into my arms, and we'll be home before you know
it," and Thure jumped to his feet and started toward his horse.

"No, come back," and the miner impatiently lifted himself up on one
elbow. "Come back. I have no time to waste riding three miles for a
deathbed. I--" Again the keen eyes searched the faces of the two boys.
"I have much to say and little time in which to say it. Get that
bearskin off your horse and make me as comfortable as possible on it.
And be quick about it; for I am going fast, and, before I go, I want to
make you two boys my heirs for saving me from those two villa