seen better days."

The nurse smiled again, indulgently, and busied herself in tidying the
apartment; an occupation which would have incensed Ninian, since her
idea of neatness seemed to him to be but the "disarrangement" of the
heaps of papers and manuscript sheets scattered everywhere about, had
he not been otherwise interested. A hasty examination of the messages
he had received evoked his exultant exclamation:

"Hurrah! The very thing!"

"Good news?" asked the attendant.

"The best in the world. The doctor's prescription, filled to the
letter. A ranch and new business. Say, would you mind going out for a
bit? I'd like to get into some other togs and in a hurry. If I can,
I'll make the one o'clock train."

"The--one o'clock train!" gasped the bewildered nurse, believing that
her charge's brain had given away, even as the physician had suggested
it might do.

"Exactly. Please don't be alarmed. Some country friends of mine have
invited me to visit them, and I judge they would be glad if I
accepted at once. Their invitation fits in excellently with my own
needs and, after I've dressed for the trip, I'd be grateful to you for
packing a few things, while I write to the bank and telephone to some
other places. Just touch that messenger call, will you, please?"

Certainly, he did not now look very like a sick man, as he sprang up
and looked about him; save that he put his hand to his head because of
a momentary dizziness and seemed somewhat unsteady on his feet.
However, his eyes had lost their dullness and a faint color had come
into his cheeks; and the attendant saw no reason for opposing his
sudden determination.

The letter was Jessica's, and its envelope had been mended by the
postmaster after he had taken it, torn, from the mail pouch. The
telegram was from Ephraim Marsh, and had been sent by the first
messenger to Marion after that scene in the pantry with Aunt Sally and
the little boys. It had been delayed by the curiosity of the operator,
but had reached Mr. Sharp at last; and its import was that:

"If you're willing to use your brains for Sobrante folks, as you used
them once before, now's the time. There'll be a led horse at Marion
till you come, and the sooner the better. 'Forty-niner.'"

"A led horse. Why, he must have forgotten, if he ever knew, that I've
my own Nimrod here, that Mrs. Trent insisted upon my accepting, when I
left Sobrante before. The horse must go with me, of course, and I
flatter