h a casual "Good-morning," but the next
instant his eyes were riveted on the visitor. "John Harris!" he
exclaimed, taking a great stride forward and extending his strong
arm. "Man, John, I'm glad to see you, but not in these troubles."

Harris took his hand in a silent clasp, and there was a warmth in it
that set his heart beating as it had not for years. "It's hard,
Fred," he managed to say in a dry voice, "but it's good to have you
by."

Arthurs bent over Allan, who was half sitting, half lying, in the
buggy. His face was sapped and grey in the growing light. Tenderly
the three men lifted him out. "Take him straight upstairs," said
Arthurs. "It will save moving him again." Both spare-rooms in the
house were occupied, but Arthurs led the way into Beulah's, and they
laid the wounded boy on the white bed.

Arthurs heard Beulah in the hall. "Take off his clothes, Grey," he
said, and turned to the doorway. "Where's your mother, Beulah?" he
asked in a low voice, closing the bedroom door behind him.

"Dressing." The girl looked in his face, and drew back with a little
cry. "What's the matter, Uncle Fred? What's wrong?"

"A friend of mine has been hurt, and an old friend of your mother's.
She must not see him just now. You will arrange that?"

"Yes. But I must see him--I must help."

Beulah hurried to the room where her mother was rapidly dressing, "A
man has been hurt, mother," she said, with suppressed excitement. "We
need hot water. Will you start a fire in the range?"

Mary Harris mistook Beulah's emotion for natural sympathy over a
suffering creature, and hurried to the kitchen. Mrs. Arthurs was
whispering with her husband in the hall, but a moment later joined
Mary at the range.

Then Beulah entered the room. The policeman was speaking to Arthurs.
"I must go into town now with my prisoner," he was saying. "I will
send out a doctor at once, and in the meantime I know you will do
everything possible."

Beulah turned her eyes to the bed. A man was lying there, and an old
man was sitting beside it. At the second glance she recognized him,
but in an instant she had herself under control. She walked with a
steady step to the bed and looked for a full minute in her brother's
face. Then she looked at her father.

"What have you done to him?" she said.

He threw out his hand feebly. "You do well to ask me that," he said.
"I take all the blame." He raised his face slowly until his eyes met
hers. They were not the