e of affairs, isn't it?"

Carleton didn't answer; Regan only mumbled under his breath.

"Well then," submitted Doctor McTurk, "the best thing for him,
temporarily at least, to build him up, is fresh air and plenty of it.
Give him a job somewhere out in the open."

Carleton's eyebrows went up. He looked across at Regan questioningly.

"He wouldn't take it," said Regan slowly. "There's nothing to anything
for Owsley but the 1601."

"Wouldn't take it!" snapped the little doctor. "He's got to take it.
And if you care half what you pretend you do for him, you've got to see
that he does."

"How about construction work with McCann?" suggested Carleton. "He
likes McCann, and he's lived at their place for years now."

"Just the thing!" declared Doctor McTurk heartily. "Couldn't be
better."

Carleton looked at Regan again.

"You can handle him better than any one else, Tommy. Suppose you see
what you can do? And speaking of the 1601, how would it do to tell him
what's happened in the last month. Maybe he wouldn't think so much of
her as he does now."

"No!" exclaimed Doctor McTurk quickly. "Don't you do it!"

"No," said Regan, shaking his head. "It would make him worse. He'd
blame it on Paxley, and we'd have trouble on our hands before you could
bat an eyelash."

"Yes; perhaps you're right," agreed Carleton. "Well, then, try him on
the construction tack, Tommy."

And so Regan went that afternoon from the super's office over to Mrs.
McCann's short-order house, and up to Owsley's room.

"Well, how's Jake to-day?" he inquired, in his bluff, cheery way,
drawing a chair up beside the bed.

"I'm fine, Regan," said Owsley earnestly. "Fine! What day is this?"

"Thursday," Regan told him.

"Yes," said Owsley, "that's right--Thursday. Well, you can put me down
to take the old 1601 out Monday night. I'm figuring to get back on the
run Monday night, Regan."

Regan ran his hand through his short-cropped hair, twisted a little
uneasily in his chair--and coughed to fill in the gap.

"I wouldn't be in a hurry about it, if I were you, Jake," he said. "In
fact, that's what I came over to have a little talk with you about. We
don't think you're strong enough yet for the cab."

"Who don't?" demanded Owsley antagonistically.

"The doctor and Carleton and myself--we were just speaking about it."

"Why ain't I?" demanded Owsley again.

"Why, good Lord, Jake," said Regan patiently, "you've been sick--dashed