“Where you’ll step on me if you don’t watch out. I guess my arm’s broke, Jim. Nannie went down at the ford, but she got out and ran away from me. Piked for home, I guess. I hit something, and crawled out, and then I sort o’ went to sleep. One arm’s acting funny—it won’t work.” “Oh, Hi,” cried Jim, “never mind if your arm is broke; that can be mended. But if you’d gone over—” “No glue would mend me then,” answered Hi. He struggled to his feet, and the two boys went on in the darkness. They left Mac to plunge up the road as best suited him. Both had cast away their lanterns after the rain and wind had put out the light, and they tramped on in the blur of mist which told them that they were in the very heart of a cloud. Sometimes Hi could not keep back a groan, though he tried manfully. “You just brace up, Hi, you hear?” said Jim with affectionate roughness. “You’re in luck to only break one bone. My goodness, what’s one bone when you’ve hundreds of ’em in your body?” Hi set his strong white teeth together and trudged on. The way seemed like an endless bad dream. But finally he heard Jim say: “We’re here.” And they were. They were in the good dry cabin, and Hi had sunk on the settle while Jim lighted the lamps and lit the fire. That done, he went out to the horse shed and came back with the cheering news that both horses were in their stalls. “And now,” he said, “let’s see what we can do about your arm. I know there’s arnica in the house.” “Arnica!” cried Hi in anguished contempt. “Do you think rubbing will do _that_ any good?” He dangled the limp lower arm before Jim’s horrified gaze. “No,” said a gruff voice, “rubbing won’t help it none, but setting will, and I’m the man to do it for you.” The boys turned as quick as owls, and there, standing in the doorway was a tall, dripping man in homespun mountain clothes. “Why, Buck Bab!” cried Jim, “Where did you come from?” Hi’s eyes started from his head. “Ain’t you the man that chased me with a gun the other night?” he asked. Bab wrung the rain out of his hair and grinned at Hi. “Maybe I am,” he said, “and maybe I ain’t. But one thing’s certain: I’m going to set that there arm of yours, son.” To Jim he said, “You go find me a shingle. Rip one off the house if you can’t do any other way, and I’ll take the liberty of tearing up one of your ma’s old sheets.” He bustled about the cabin getting everything in readiness, and then he came over to Hi, smiling curiously. “’Twon’t be very bad,” he said almost tenderly. He stooped over him and seemed to tap him gently on the jaw somewhere below the ear. Jim couldn’t make out what was going on. Suddenly Hi seemed to be asleep, and he was making no objection at all as Buck Bab’s great hands busied themselves with drawing the broken arm from the coat and shirt that hampered them. “What have you done, Buck Bab!” demanded Jim, thoroughly frightened. “What’s the matter with Hi?”