own companion, his only one, in the immense adventure on which he was
so soon to embark.

A few moments later he stood by John's bed.

"Pretty hard, Johnny?" he gently asked.

"Oh, not so bad as it might be, I guess--"

"You'll soon feel better, they tell me, boy." John shut his eyes.

"Yes," he muttered.

"Can you stand my talking, just a minute?"

"Sure I can," John whispered. "I'm not suffering any now. He's given me
something to put me to sleep. What is it you want to talk about? Business?"

"Not exactly, partner. It's about the family. You've got so you're almost
one of us. I guess you know us pretty well."

"I guess I do. It's meant a lot to me, Mr. Gale--"

"But I'll tell you what you don't know, John," Roger went on slowly. "I had
a son in the family once, and he died when he was three months old. That
was a long time ago--and I never had another, you see--to take his
place--till you came along." There fell a breathless silence. "And I've
been thinking lately," Roger added steadily. "I haven't long to live, you
know. And I've been wondering whether--you'd like to come into the
family--take my name. Do you understand?"

John said nothing. His eyes were still closed. But presently, groping over
the bed, he found Roger's hand and clutched it tight. After this, from time
to time his throat contracted sharply. Tears welled from under his eyelids.
Then gradually, as the merciful drug which Allan had given did its work,
his clutch relaxed and he began breathing deep and hard. But still for some
time longer Roger sat quietly by his side.

The next night he was there again. Death had come to the huddled form on
the bed, but there had been no relaxing. With the head thrown rigidly far
back and all the features tense and hard, it was a fighting figure still,
a figure of stern protest against the world's injustice. But Roger was not
thinking of this, but of the discovery he had made, that in their talk of
the night before John had understood him--completely. For upon a piece of
paper which Allan had given the lad that day, these words had been
painfully inscribed:

"This is my last will and testament. I am in my right mind--I know what I
am doing--though nobody else does--nobody is here. To my partner Roger Gale
I leave my share in our business. And to my teacher Deborah Baird I leave
my crutches for her school."

CHAPTER XLIII

After John had gone away the house was very quiet. Only from the room