"This Forest Service," he said, smiling, "is the worst that ever
happened for having to obey orders, and Mr. Merritt put me in charge of
your wife, not you."

The big doctor put his hand on the shoulder of his wife and roared until
the house shook with his laughter. It was impossible to resist the
infection, and Wilbur, despite his headache, found himself laughing with
the rest. But the doctor's wife, stepping quietly forward, took the lad
aside and, removing the handkerchief that Grier had wound around his
head, bathed the wound and cleansed it. She had just finished this when
the doctor came over, still laughing. He touched the wound deftly, and
Wilbur was amazed to find that the touch of this large, hearty man was
just as soft and tender as that of his wife. There was power in his very
finger-tips, and the boy felt it. He looked up, smiling.

"I guess you're Doctor Davis," he said.

"Why?" said the doctor; "what makes you think so?"

"Oh, I just felt it," the boy replied. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I'm 'it,' all right," said the doctor, "but you've refused to allow me
to attend you. I'll turn the case over to Dr. Violet Davis," and he
laughed again.

Mrs. Davis smiled brightly in response and continued attending to the
boy. Then she turned to the two men.

"You've put this case in my charge," she said, "and I'm going to
prescribe rest for a day or two anyway. That is," she added, "unless Mr.
Merritt finds it compulsory to take him away."

The Supervisor smiled one of his rare smiles.

"I wouldn't be so unkind as to take any one away from here
unnecessarily," he said, "no matter how busy. But there always is a lot
to do. Ever since the beavers first started forestry, it has meant work,
and lots of it. But if you're told to rest you've got to do it. I know.
I've been sick myself here."

The doctor slapped him on the shoulder.

"Beautiful case," he said, "beautiful case. But he wouldn't obey
orders."

"He always did mine," put in Mrs. Davis.

"I'm afraid I can't this time," said the Supervisor with one of his
abrupt changes of manner, turning to the door. "I'll call for Loyle on
my way home to-morrow."

"Oh, Mr. Merritt," began Mrs. Davis in protest, "he ought to have two or
three days' rest, anyway."

The chief of the forest turned to Wilbur.

"Well?" he queried.

The boy looked around at the comfortable home, at the big jovial doctor,
and his charming little wife, and thought how delightful