f that horse should run away,
and I should leap out and grasp the animal by the head, wouldn't that
be fine? I would doubtless be dashed to the pavement a few times, but
what of that?" He could almost hear the lovely lady, pale and shaken,
as she thanked her noble preserver and pressed into his hand a ring of
immense value. The lovely lady was always a Countess at least, and
frequently a Princess.

Velo imagined drowning accidents, and fires where he dashed the firemen
aside, and made thrilling rescues of other lovely ladies who were seen
hanging out of high windows. Velo himself always came out unhurt and
with his clothes nicely brushed and in order. Sometimes he imagined a
slight, _very_ slight cut on his forehead, which had to be becomingly
bandaged, but that was always the extent of his injuries. Velo liked
to imagine bandits, too; big, ferocious fellows whom he outwitted, or
choked into insensibility in single combat. At a moving-picture show,
he always sat in a delicious dream, admiring his own exploits as the
pictures flashed on the screen.

Thus it was perfectly natural and simple for him to take the adventure
of the previous day, and twist it to his own glorification.

To Zaidos this would have been such an impossibility that he simply
could not have understood it at all, even if someone had explained
Velo's way of looking at things.

To Zaidos the only possible or natural way to look at things was to do
whatever came up for a fellow _to_ do, and to do it as soon and as well
as he possibly could. Not knowing Velo, he did not dream that he was
in the habit of glorifying himself on every possible occasion. If he
had, he would have pressed a little harder. As it was, he drove Velo
into a cold fury by his sweet, humble gratitude.

"Oh, Velo," he would say, "whenever I think how you wrenched my hands
from the rail, and forced me into the water, and swam with me to
safety, I don't see how I will _ever_ thank you!"

Then he would get out the square of antiseptic gauze the nurse had
given him for a handkerchief and cry into its folds as loudly as he
dared.

Zaidos had to take medicine to keep down fever, so there were two
bottles on the tiny table beside him. He had to take a dose every
hour. Once he woke up, and took the bottle in his hand and started to
pour it out just as the nurse came past. She gave a look at the
bottle, smothered a cry, and snatched it from Zaidos' hand. She was
pale.

"H