gift of so many breaths, so many chances to look into her eyes,
so many chances to fulfil duties, so many quaffs of life.

"My watch has run down," he said, with curious seriousness. "I 'm
going to wind it up again. I 'm going to wind it up again, Barstow."

He proceeded to do this as though engaged in some mystic rite.

"May I set it by your watch? I 'd like to set it by your watch,
Barstow."

He adjusted the hands tenderly, again as though it were the act of a
high priest.

"Now," he said, "it's going straight. I shall never let the old thing
run down again. I think it hurts a watch, don't you, Barstow?"

"Yes," answered the latter, amazed at his emphasis upon such
trivialities.

"Now," he said, "I must hurry. Where's my hat? Oh, there it is. And
Sandy--where's Sandy?"

The dog crawled out at once at the sound of his name, and he stooped to
pet him a moment.

"I don't suppose you 'd sell Sandy, would you, Barstow?"

"I 'll give him to you, if you 'll take him off. I have n't a fit
place to keep him."

"May I take him now? May I take him with me?"

"Yes--if you'll come back to me to-morrow and report how you are."

"I 'll do it. I 'll be here to-morrow."

He cuddled the dog into his arm and held out his hand.

"Don't worry about me, old man. Just a little rattled that's all. But
fit as a fiddle; strong as a moose, even if I don't look it as you do!"

Barstow took his hand, and when Donaldson left, stood at the head of
the stairs anxiously watching him make his way to the street, hugging
the dog tightly to his side.

CHAPTER XXVII

_The End of the Beginning_

When Donaldson appeared at the door of the Arsdale house he was
confronted by Ben whose eyes were afire as though he had been drinking.
Before he could speak a word the latter squared off before him
aggressively.

"What the devil have you done to my sister?" he demanded.

Donaldson drew back, frightened by the question.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, the dog dropping from his arms to the
floor.

"She 's in bed, and half out of her mind," returned the other fiercely.
"She said you 'd gone! Donaldson, if you 've hurt her--"

The boy's fists were clenched as though he were about to strike.
Donaldson stood with his arms hanging limply by his side. He felt
Arsdale's right to strike if he wished.

"I have n't gone," he answered.

"I don't know what has happened," Arsdale ran on heatedly, "but I want
to tell you t