It seemed a
strange turn of fate to Tad that the same blast that had taken away his
partner many years ago had now probably taken away his only enemy. With
these thoughts came an intense hatred for the mine and a tender pity for
the man that had so wronged him. Tad had put his body to a tremendous
test, and every nerve and every muscle was fairly tingling, so he drew up
a chair to the bedside and rested. In a little while Mr. Williams became
conscious, but on recognizing Tad at his bedside he slipped back again
into unconsciousness, muttering strange, broken apologies and begging for
mercy. Tad thanked God as he sat there that night that he had never
harmed a brother man willfully and that his life had always been, at
least to the best of his ability, on the square.

Then he began to think rapidly. Perhaps Williams was near the end. He
feared the bad cut on his head might prove fatal. What if he should die
and have no chance to talk, no chance to square himself with those that
he had wronged? Accordingly he made him as comfortable as he could, and
after telling Ben his plan, he hurriedly ate a little food, went out
into the night and down the trail.

Willis was awakened early in the morning by a furious pounding on the
door. He rose and hurried down. Tad fairly tumbled into the room. He
informed Willis just what had happened, and told him to get ready to go
with him at once. A doctor was called, a cab ordered, and in a little
while the three were hastening back toward Bruin Inn. With all their
speed, however, the morning was well-spent before they reached the little
shanty again. The doctor made a careful examination and declared Williams
in a very critical condition. The broken leg was reset, the cuts dressed
and sewed up. Then began the preparations to remove him out of the
mountains to a hospital. It seemed very strange to Tad to be again
building a crude stretcher from aspen poles and blankets, but by night
they had placed him in the hospital and he was sleeping.

It was a long night of strange thoughts and fancies for Willis as he sat
by his uncle's bedside. He was too bewildered by all the strange events
of the last fortnight to be able to think logically. His admiration for
Tad had grown until it knew no bounds, and his pity for his uncle had
increased until all the hardness had disappeared from his heart and he
was sorry for him. He hoped with all his might that he would yet live.

In the early morning Willis