conscious, bleeding from a long gash in his scalp. The Boss,
something of a surgeon in his rough and ready way, as bosses need to
be, washed the wound and sewed it up. Then he handed over his own bunk
to the wounded man, declaring optimistically that McWha would come
round all right, his breed being hard to kill.

It was hours later when McWha began to recover consciousness, and just
then, as it happened, there was no one near him but Rosy-Lilly.
Smitten with pity, the child was standing beside the bunk, murmuring:
"Poor! poor! I so sorry!" and slowly shaking her head and lightly
patting the big, limp hand where it lay outside the blanket.

McWha half opened his eyes, and their faint glance fell on the top of
Rosy-Lilly's head as she bent over his hand. With a wry smile he shut
them again, but to his surprise, he felt rather gratified. Then Jimmy
Brackett came in and whisked the child away. "'S if he thought I'd
bite 'er!" mused McWha, somewhat inconsistently.

For a long time he lay wondering confusedly. At last he opened his
eyes wide, felt his bandaged head, and called for a drink of water in
a voice which he vainly strove to make sound natural. To his surprise
he was answered by Rosy-Lilly, so promptly that it was as if she had
been listening for his voice. She came carrying the tin of water in
both little hands, and, lifting it very carefully, she tried to hold
it to his lips. Neither she nor McWha was quite successful in this,
however. While they were fumbling over it, Jimmy Brackett hurried in,
followed by the Boss, and Rosy-Lilly's nursing was superseded. The
Boss had to hold him up so that he could drink; and when he had
feverishly gulped about a quart, he lay back on his pillow with a huge
sigh, declaring weakly that he was all right.

"Ye got off mighty easy, Red," said the Boss, cheerfully, "considerin'
the heft o' the knot 'at hit ye. But you McWhas was always hard to
kill."

McWha's hand was drooping loosely over the edge of the bunk. He felt
the child's tiny fingers brushing it again softly and tenderly. Then
he felt her lips upon it, and the sensation was so novel that he quite
forgot to reply to the Boss's pleasantry.

That night McWha was so much better that when he insisted on being
removed to his own bunk on the plea that he "didn't feel at home in a
cupboard like," the Boss consented. Next day he wanted to go back to
work, but the Boss was derisively inexorable, and for two days McWha
was kep