nt.

"Sara is very sick, Uncle Denny. I've given him some morphine, but he'll
be coming out of it soon. Will you telephone from the office for the
doctor?"

"Is it the same old pain?" asked Dennis.

"Yes, only worse. I--I am to blame, in a way. He has been growing worse
lately and any excitement is dreadful for him. And then, I struck him,
Uncle Denny! I shall never forgive myself for that. And yet, this
morning he laughed at it. He said he never had thought so much of me as
he had for that slap."

Uncle Denny nodded. "He's deserved it a hundred times, Penny! That never
made him worse. But this is no place for him. When I go back to New
York, you and he must go with me."

"Yes, I have felt the same way, about the excitement here. We'll go when
you say, Uncle Denny."

"Is the doctor here a good one?"

"Splendid! A Johns Hopkins man here for his health."

"What else can I do?" asked Uncle Denny. "Shall I come in and sit with
him?"

"No; ask Mrs. Flynn to come over after dinner. You go out and see the
dam and be proud of your boy."

"And of me girl," said Uncle Denny. He had been standing with his hat in
his hand and now he bent and kissed Pen's cheek.

"Erin go bragh!" said Pen. "Uncle Denny, I'm tired! I feel as if I were
running on one cylinder and three punctured tires. I have to talk that
way after my close association with Bill Evans!"

Uncle Denny had a delightful trip over the Project with Murphy. He dined
with the upper mess so that Mrs. Flynn could devote herself to Pen.
After eating, he started down the great road to the tower foot to meet
Murphy.

Before he came to the tower, however, he came on a group of men hovering
over the canyon edge. Uncle Denny gave an exclamation of pity. A mule
with a pack on its back had slipped off the road and hung far below by
the rope halter that had caught around a projecting rock. The hombre who
had been driving the mule had gone for ropes.

"See how still he keeps, the old cuss," said Jack Henderson gently. "A
horse would have kicked himself to death long ago. That mule knows just
what's holding him. A mule forgets more in a minute than a horse knows
in a year."

Uncle Denny almost wept. The mule pressed his helpless forelegs against
the wall and except that he panted with fright and that his ears moved
back and forth as he listened for his hombre's voice, he was motionless.
His liquid eyes were fastened on the group above with an appeal that
touched every