that it ain't to be set up till I come. 'Twouldn't be worth
while settin' it up at the sanitarium for a week, an' I'm minded to try a
medical bed, anyways. I ain't never had none. Get the carriage, quick, for
I feel an ailment comin' on me powerful hard every minute."

"Suppose," said Harlan, in a swift aside, "that they refuse to take the
patient? What shall we do then?"

"We won't discuss that," answered Dick, in a low tone. "My plan is to
leave the patient, drive away swiftly, and, an hour or so later, walk back
and settle with the head of the repair shop for a week's mending in
advance."

Harlan laughed gleefully, at which Uncle Israel pricked up his ears. "I'm
in on the bill," he continued; "we'll go halves on the mending."

"Laughin'" said Uncle Israel, scornfully, "at your poor old uncle what
ain't goin' to live much longer. If your insides was all turned green, you
wouldn't be laughin'--you'd be thinkin' about your immortal souls."

It was late afternoon when the bed was finally dumped on the side track to
await the arrival of the freight train, being securely covered with a
canvas tarpaulin to keep it from the night dew and stray, malicious germs,
seeking that which they might devour. Uncle Israel insisted upon
overseeing this job himself, so that he did not reach the sanitarium until
almost nightfall. Dick and Harlan were driving, and they shamelessly left
the patient at the door of the Temple of Healing, with his crated bath
cabinet, his few personal belongings, and his medicines.

Turning back at the foot of the hill, they saw that the wanderer had been
taken in, though the bath cabinet still remained outside.

"Mean trick to play on a respectable institution," observed Dick, lashing
the horses into a gallop, "but I'll go over in the morning and square it
with 'em."

"I'll go with you," volunteered Harlan. "It's just as well to have two of
us, for we won't be popular. The survivor can take back the farewell
message to the wife and family of the other."

He meant it for a jest, but even in the gathering darkness, he could see
the dull red mounting to Dick's temples. "I'll be darned," thought Harlan,
seeing the whole situation instantly. Then, moved by a brotherly impulse,
he said, cheerfully: "Go in and win, old man. Good luck to you!"

"Thanks," muttered Dick, huskily, "but it's no use. She won't look at me.
She wants a nice lady-like poet, that's what she wants."

"No, she doesn't," returned Harl