ed to hang in mid-air. I felt the
premonition of impending disaster so common to nervous women, and made
Howard sit in my room as long as I could think of a pretext for
keeping him. When I was alone, I lay wakeful through the noisy hours,
waiting for daylight. At perhaps three o'clock, or a little later, I
fell into a semi-conscious doze, from which I was aroused by the
footsteps and low voices of men in the hall. The slowness of the
steps, and the hushed tone in which they spoke, gave me a thrill of
terror. Something had happened. Yes, they were talking about it, and
carrying something--some one--by. "Right this way, lay him on the
bed." "What, doctor?" "Pretty near dead." "Small chance," and so on.
Then with strained nerves I listened for the doctor, heard him come,
heard his quick directions, heard the running to and fro to get what
he required, and then arose and dressed myself with trembling hands,
unable to bear the tension any longer, and thinking that I might be of
assistance. I went to Howard's door, aroused him, and sent him to
learn what was the matter. He went a little reluctantly, but returned
wide awake.

"Why, it's Charlie Reynolds, poor fellow! I guess he's about
killed--some row, I suppose; didn't wait to find out. The doctor is
attending to him now."

A little later, in the gray, solemn dawn, the doctor came out of the
room in which Charlie had been laid, and I went to learn the worst. I
knew now that I had grown very fond of the young man, and I could see
that Howard liked him, too.

III.

The doctor looked at me curiously. "He is pretty badly hurt, but I
think he will pull through. I don't suppose it makes any particular
difference to him or anybody else, whether he does or not!" he said,
brushing his hat with his coat-sleeve.

"Why not?" I demanded.

"Why, because he will only pull through this to get killed in some
other scrape, and before he can get into anything else he will have to
answer for this one. You know how he was hurt?"

"No, I don't know anything about it."

"He robbed a fellow in the night, and the man chased him and shot him,
and finding that he still ran, knocked him down with the butt end of
his pistol, threw it at him; that is the worst hurt he had. And he is
an old customer, for this blow opened an old place; it isn't the first
time he has been caught. I've just trepanned it--quite a serious
operation under the circumstances."

"And the pistol wounds?"

"Nothing