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himself on having someone to talk to. As a matter of fact, he's waiting for you now in the front room."

      "Then I'll go," said Jack sullenly. He eyed his companion with a hopeless eye. "Get along without me, Lou?"

      "Sure," said the other. "Sure, I can get along without you. 'S a matter of fact, I'd kind of like to be alone, not meanin' no offense to you, Jack."

      Jack favored him with a brief glare and turned on his heel. The girl took the tray and placed it on the table beside the bed while she stacked pillows behind Alp. He watched the movements of her hands in a happy trance. Sometimes as she leaned her hair came close to his eyes, and the firelight was in it. She hummed a little, working over him, and the sound completed the charm for Lou. It seemed to him that he was swept outside of himself and carried away. Something was taken from him, and in its place a light and heady happiness began to run into him. She built up the pillows behind him; she took him under the shoulders and helped him to sit up higher; she put the tray across his knees.

      "Are you comfortable?"

      "Yes."

      "Need anything more?"

      "Nope."

      "You must eat as well as you can. Mother says that's the thing for you. Have to build up lots of blood, you know, to take the place of what you lost."

      Under his eyes she uncovered the dishes. The fragrance spoke strongly to the famished Lou Alp, and still he could not eat.

      "Let me see you start," she was saying.

      The sneak thief folded his hands and smiled vaguely at her. "Somehow, I can't," he murmured.

      "It's the pain," nodded the girl. "I know how it works on one's appetite. You're mighty brave not to complain about it. Never a word all this time."

      Lou Alp was dazed. He, brave? Since his earliest recollection he had been kicked about by stronger men. Brave? One flash of fire in the eyes of another man had always made him sick at heart. Brave? He looked sadly at the girl, for she seemed so bright, so clean eyed, so beautiful, that the old rhyme ran into his head: "None but the brave deserve the fair."

      "Oh," said Lou Alp, "I don't mind the pain, hardly. I'm kind of used to it, you know?"

      A little impulse of sympathy moved the girl to lay her hand over his and press it warmly. "You're the sort of man my father likes," she declared, and her smile went through the eyes of Lou Alp and embraced his whole soul with warmth. Something akin to fear was in him and an enormous happiness wavered in front of him. A dream-happiness, and he trembled for fear the delicate illusion should vanish. The world-shattering truth came home to him. He, Lou Alp, was respected and admired as a brave man.

      She was speaking of something else. What she said did not matter. The important thing was to keep her talking.

      "Your friend is a little shaken up, I guess. Must have been an awful shock to hear that gun explode and see you fall!"

      "Him? Shaken up?" gasped Lou Alp. He laughed faint and shrill. "Lady, you don't know him."

      He observed that she was frowning thoughtfully, and began to regret what he had just said.

      "He wasn't nervous?" she asked.

      "He ain't got any nerves," declared Lou Alp.

      "Hmm," said the girl.

      Lou Alp gathered that in some cases she considered nerves a commendable possession. He felt that she was forming a strong prepossession against Jack Chapel, and for some strange reason this fact pleased him greatly. Indeed, Lou Alp would gladly have destroyed her good opinion of every man in the world except one.

      "I'll tell you how it is with Jack," he said. "He's hard. You see?"

      "Ah?" said the girl.

      It occurred to the thief that he must not go too far, for a suspicion of one would embrace them both.

      "But he's square," added Lou. "He's terrible square in spite of the fact that he's hard."

      "Terrible square is a good way to put it. He surely has a cold eye."

      Lou Alp became alarmed. "You don't see under the surface," he declared. "In a pinch he's the best pal that ever stepped. No boastin', no braggin', but when the time comes he steps out and does his part. Steady as a rock, true as steel, honest as the day, that's the sort of a gent Jack is."

      If he praised his friend, was he not removing the foundation of any suspicion she might have? Was he not, by allusion, strengthening his own safety and good repute in this household? "Birds of a feather," etc. Then he observed that readily as the girl had been prejudiced against Jack Chapel, she was equally ready to be prejudiced in his favor.

      "Is he all those things? In fact, I guessed at part of them."

      "Look at the way he done for me," went on Lou Alp. "It wasn't his fault I got shot. Then, when a lot of gents I know would of sat down and let me freeze to death, he starts right out to carry me and get me to some sort of help. Tears up his own shirt, makes a bandage, starts the long pull up that hill...."

      "Uphill?" echoed Kate Moore.

      "Downhill, I mean. I got my tongue twisted. But he took me a long way. Most men would of buckled before they carried me half so far. Then he saw the house. Didn't leave me there in the snow to freeze while he went and got help, but he carried me right down, with his breath comin' more like a rasp every step. That's the sort of a gent..."

      His voice faltered and died away, for he looked more closely at her and saw that her eyes were on fire.

      "It was a fine thing to do," declared the girl. "It was a fine thing. Sounds simple, but I know how hard it was. No wonder he was gruff after all that hard work. And he wanted to stay with you! Why, he has a lot of affection for you, Mister Angus."

      "Him and me... pals," murmured Lou Alp.

      He felt, miserably, that the light was gone for him. She stood up. "I'm going down, now. They'll be waiting for me."

      "I'm sorry," said Lou.

      "For what?"

      "I'll explain later."

      She went lightly out of the room, smiled back at him from the door, and was gone. A weight settled on the heart of the thief.

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