ut if Miss Harriet had not been so
attentive and skilful in keeping the cut closed, the man would have
bled to death.

Westerfelt dropped to sleep, and when he awoke it was night. A lamp,
the light of which was softened by a pink shade, stood on a
sewing-machine near the fireplace. At first he could not recall what
had happened nor where he was, and he felt very weak and sleepy. After
awhile, however, he became conscious of the fact that he was not alone.
A slight figure was moving silently about the room, now at the
fireplace, again at a table where some lint, bandages, and phials had
been left. The figure approached his bed cautiously. It was Harriet
Floyd. When she saw that he was awake, she started to move away, but
he detained her.

"I'm a lot of trouble for a new boarder," he said, smiling. "This is
my first day, and yet I've turned your house into a fortification and a
hospital."

"You are not a bit of trouble; the doctor said let you sleep as much as
possible."

"I don't need sleep; I've been hurt worse than this before."

She put her hand on his brow. "It'll make you feverish to talk, Mr.
Westerfelt; go to sleep."

"Did they jail Wambush?"

"Yes."

"Toughest customer I ever tackled." He laughed, dryly.

She made no reply. She went to the fire and began stirring the
contents of a three-legged pot on the coals. To see her better, he
turned over on his side. The bed slats creaked.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, running to him, "you'll break the stitches, and
bleed again. Don't move that way."

He raised the blanket and looked down at his wound.

"I reckon they are holding all right, though I _did_ feel a little
twinge."

"You have not had any dinner or supper," she went on. "Dr. Lash said
if you wanted anything I might give you some gruel and milk. I've made
it, and it is keeping warm at the fire. Will you take some?"

"No, I thank you; I can wait till breakfast. Then I'll set up at the
table and eat a square meal; somehow, I'm not hungry. Wambush objected
mightily to being jailed, didn't he?"

"You ought not to wait till breakfast," she said, looking at the fire;
"you'd better let me give you some of this gruel."

"All right; you are the doctor."

She dipped up some of the gruel in a bowl, and, adding some milk to it,
came back to him. But she was confronted by a difficulty. He could
not eat gruel and milk from a spoon while lying on his back. He saw
this, and put his hands on