cinctly. "I had just got home
when your telegram to mother came, telling about the accident, so of
course I took charge of things. Mother wanted to come herself, but she
seemed rather tired, so I made her stop at home. The doctor will be
there to meet us."

Channing saw the improvised ambulance with thanksgiving. The journey
back to civilization was a chapter in his experience which he had no
wish to repeat....

It had started gaily enough, Channing quite comfortable in a sort of
litter swung between two mules, led at a foot-pace by the versatile
peddler and a silent young mountaineer, a son of their former host,
Anse. The school-teacher rode with them to the foot of the mountain, to
make sure of the bandages, and Jacqueline brought up the procession on
her mule.

Before they started, Channing spoke a few appreciative if rather
patronizing words to the school-master. "You've been awfully kind and
clever about this. A surgeon could not have done better. You really
ought to charge me a whopping big price, you know." He put his hand into
his pocket, suggestively.

The other raised his eyebrows. "My services were not professional, Mr.
Channing. I make no charge for them. It is all part of my day's work."

"Oh, but really--" insisted the author.

"Of course if you've plenty of money, you may pay what you like," added
the teacher indifferently, and went back into the schoolhouse for
something he had forgotten.

Channing grinned. "Of course! I've never seen services yet, professional
or otherwise, that could not be paid for. What do you think I ought to
give him?"

It was to Jacqueline he spoke, but the Apostle answered: "You don't give
him nothin', son. You puts what you kin in this here box for the
Hospital."

He obligingly lifted down a box with a slit in it, that hung beside the
schoolhouse door, bearing the inscription, "Hospital Fund." He rattled
it as he did so. "It's gettin' real heavy," he commented with
satisfaction. "Reck'n there must 'a' bin a lot of sick folks lately.
Teacher must be pleased."

Channing lifted his eyebrows at Jacqueline. "Do you mean to say he
leaves a box of money hanging outside his door at the mercy of any
passing stranger?"

"Why not?" asked the teacher himself, reappearing.

"Very few strangers do pass, and though my neighbors have their
failings, dishonesty is not one of them. Besides, it is their own money.
They have given it."

"Rather an ambitious idea of yours, isn't i