a woman Jolly Roger worked his fingers over
Peter's scrawny little body. And Peter, whimpering softly, felt the
infinite consolation of their touch. He was no longer afraid of Jed
Hawkins, or of pain, or of death. The soul of a dog is simple in its
measurement of blessings, and to Peter it was a great happiness to lie
here, broken and in pain, with the face of his beloved mistress over
him and Jolly Roger's hands working to mend his hurt. He whimpered when
Jolly Roger found the broken place, and he cried out like a little
child when there came the sudden quick snapping of a bone--but even
then he turned his head so that he could thrust out his hot tongue
against the back of his man-friend's hand. And Jolly Roger, as he
worked, was giving instructions to the girl, who was quick as a bird to
bring him cloth which she tore into bandages, so that at the end of ten
minutes Peter's right hind leg was trussed up so tightly that it was as
stiff and as useless as a piece of wood.

"His hip was dislocated and his leg-bone broken," said Jolly Roger when
he had finished. "He is all right now, and inside of three weeks will
be on his feet again."

He lifted Peter gently, and made him a nest among the blankets in his
bunk. And then, still with that strange, gray look in his face, he
turned to Nada.

She was standing partly facing the door, her eyes straight on him. And
Jolly Roger saw in them that wonderful something which had given his
storm-beaten soul a glimpse of paradise earlier that day. They were
blue, so blue that he had never seen violets like them--and he knew
that in her heart there was no guile behind which she could hide the
secret they were betraying. A yearning such as had never before come
into his life urged him to open his arms to her, and he knew that she
would have come into them; but a still mightier will held them tense
and throbbing at his side. Her cheeks were aflame as she looked at him,
and he told himself that God could not have made a lovelier thing, as
she stood there in her worn dress and her ragged shoes, with that light
of glory in her face, and her damp hair waving and curling about her in
the last light of the day.

"I knew you'd fix him, Mister-Roger," she whispered, a great pride and
faith and worship in the low thrill of her voice. "I knew it!"

Something choked Jolly Roger, and he turned to the stove and began
spearing the crisp brown potatoes on the end of a fork. And he said,
with his bac