of the brain
was finally put in its right place.

His piecing together the events of his life was like the gathering up of
the broken pieces of a bowl and the successful reconstruction of it by
patiently fitting in the fragments here and there. It was a marvel and a
delight to the scouts who visited him constantly, to watch him searching
for things in the darkness, as one might say, and bringing them home to
patch together the broken picture of his past.

But how came that injury, discovered by the merest chance, which had
wrapped his early life in a blackness like the blackness of night?
Haskell never told of this connectedly, for he could neither speak of it
or think of it without becoming greatly agitated. And that tragic
occurrence was never made known to his aged mother.

But these were the facts which were gradually brought into the light.
Joe Haskell and his brother had been twins. Long before their father
died Bob Haskell had done much to bring shame and worry to the veteran
who had fought in the confederate cause, and whose end was hastened by
his dishonest, worthless son.

Hicksville proved too small for this enterprising scamp who, after
rifling the cash drawer in the railroad station, withdrew from these
scenes of limited opportunity to spread his wings in the great
metropolis of New York.

Joe and his mother never heard of him again. The stunted affections and
criminal tendencies of the one son seemed compensated for in the other,
who remained the dutiful and loving companion and support of his mother
until the great war called him. He received his training at a southern
camp and was later transferred to Camp Merritt, which was an embarkation
camp. Had it not been for a certain occurrence he would have sailed with
the swarms of boys who went across in the spring and summer of 1918. But
he never went to France.

On a pleasant Sunday morning in April of that year, Joe Blythe started
for Woodcliff to dine at the home of a family he did not know--the home
and family of Miss Bates. As we know, he never reached that hospitable
roof. We do know, however, that in an isolated shack in the woods not
far from camp were found his wallet containing his leave of absence, an
unmailed letter to his mother, and Miss Bates' card.

How came he to that shack? It was in a bypath sometimes followed by
soldiers, he said. He said he paused there to get out of a shower. This
statement was at least partly verified by the aut