nything with him. Why didn't you help him?"
Moore's tones were stern and very steady, and he never moved his eyes
from the other man's face, but the only reply he got was a shrug of the
shoulders.

When the gray of the morning was coming in at the window The Duke rose
up, gave himself, a little shake, and said:

"I am not of any service here. I shall come back in the evening."

He went and stood for a few moments looking down upon the hot, fevered
face; then, turning to me, he asked:

"What do you think?"

"Can't say! The bromide is holding him down just now. His blood is bad
for that wound."

"Can I get anything?" I knew him well enough to recognize the anxiety
under his indifferent manner.

"The Fort doctor ought to be got."

He nodded and went out.

"Have breakfast?" called out Moore from the door.

"I shall get some at the Fort, thanks. They won't take any hurt from me
there," he said, smiling his cynical smile.

Moore opened his eyes in surprise.

"What's that for?" he asked me.

"Well, he is rather cut up, and you rather rubbed it into him, you
know," I said, for I thought Moore a little hard.

"Did I say anything untrue?"

"Well, not untrue, perhaps; but truth is like medicine--not always good
to take." At which Moore was silent till his patient needed him again.

It was a weary day. The intense pain from the wound, and the high fever
from the poison in his blood kept the poor fellow in delirium till
evening, when The Duke rode up with the Fort doctor. Jingo appeared
as nearly played out as a horse of his spirit ever allowed himself to
become.

"Seventy miles," said The Duke, swinging himself off the saddle. "The
doctor was ten miles out. How is he?"

I shook my head, and he led away his horse to give him a rub and a feed.

Meantime the doctor, who was of the army and had seen service, was
examining his patient. He grew more and more puzzled as he noted the
various symptoms. Finally he broke out:

"What have you been doing to him? Why is he in this condition? This
fleabite doesn't account for all," pointing to the wound.

We stood like children reproved. Then The Duke said, hesitatingly:

"I fear, doctor, the life has been a little too hard for him. He had a
severe nervous attack--seeing things, you know."

"Yes, I know," stormed the old doctor. "I know you well enough, with
your head of cast-iron and no nerves to speak of. I know the crowd and
how you lead them. Infernal fools! You'