elf.

He, too, was so centered on one yearning that he was beyond the
realization of lesser matters, so that the gaunt preacher came within
arm's length unnoticed and laid a hand on his shoulder. Brother
Fulkerson nodded toward the other room, and Turner followed him with
the dumb and perfunctory abstraction of a sleep-walker.

"Now, son, ef hit hain't too late ter avail, let's hev a look at yore
own hurts. Ye didn't come through totally unscathed yore own self."

Bear Cat stood apathetically and his eyes turned hungrily toward the
stout partition of logs beyond which knelt the girl. It was not until
the older man had spoken the second time that he replied with a flat
tonelessness of voice, "My worst hurts ... hain't none ... thet ye kin
aid."

"Thet's what I aims ter find out." Joel Fulkerson's manner was brisk
and authoritative. "Strip off yore coat an' shirt."

Indifferently Bear Cat obeyed. Several times his lips moved without
sound, while the other pressed investigating fingers over the
splendidly sinewed torso and bathed away the dried blood.

"Hit looks p'intedly like ye've been seekin' ter prove them fruitless
stories thet bullets kain't kill ye," observed the preacher at the end
of his inspection, speaking with a somber humor. "Ye've done been shot
right nigh yore heart, an' ther bullet jest glanced round a rib without
penetratin'. Ye've done suffered wounds enough ter kill a half-dozen
ord'nary humans--an' beyond wastin' a heap of blood ye don't seem much
injured."

"I wisht," declared the young man bitterly, "ye'd done told me thet I
was about ter lay down an' die. Thet's all I'm longin' fer now."

For some moments they were silent; then Joel Fulkerson's grave pupils
flickered and a hint of quaver stole into his voice.

"Son, I've done spent my life in God's sarvice--unworthily yet plumb
earnest, too, an' thar's been times a-plenty when hit almost looked ter
me like He'd turned aside His face in wrath fer ther unregenerate sin
of these-hyar hills. I've hed my big dreams, too, Turner ... an' I've
seed 'em fail. Oftentimes, despairin' of ther heathenism of ther
growed-ups, I've sot my hopes on ther comin' generation. If ther
children could be given a new pattern of life ther whole system mout
come ter betterment."

The young man had been putting on again his discarded shirt and coat,
but his hands moved with the fumbling and apathetic motions of a
sleep-walker. His face, turned always toward that ro