"Well, say, that Scotchman is a tiger. He got to the front somehow when you called for reinforcements, and when you went down he was Johnny-on-the-spot taking your place. Some of the rest of us got in there pretty soon, and for a bit things was lively. It was rather close range for gun-work, but knives were as thick as frogs after a shower." With a sudden movement Grannis slipped up the sleeve of his left arm, showing a bandage through which the blood had soaked and dried. "All of us got scratched some. One fellow of the opposition--Mick Kennedy--met with an accident." "Serious?" "Rather. We planted him after things had quieted down." For a moment the two men looked at each other steadily, and the subject was dropped. "Well," suggested Blair once more. "That's all, I guess--except that Ralston has the prisoner." A grim reminiscent smile came to the speaker's lips. "That is, he's got him if the floors of the cells here are paved good and thick. Last time I saw T. Blair he was fairly shaking post-holes into the ground with his feet." Ben tried to shift in bed, but with the movement a sudden pain made him grit his teeth to keep from uttering a groan. For the first time he thought of himself. "How much am I hurt, Grannis?" he queried directly. The foreman busied himself doing nothing about the room. "You?" cheerfully. "Oh, you're all right." Ben looked at the other narrowly. "Nothing to bother about, I judge?" "No, certainly not." Beneath the bedclothes the long body lifted, but despite anything it could do the face went pale. "Very well, I guess I'll get up then." Instantly Grannis was beside him, motioning him back, genuine concern upon his face. "No, please don't. Not yet." "But if I'm not hurt much--" Grannis fingered his forelock in obvious discomfort. "Well, between you and me, it's this way. They ripped a seam for you--so far," he indicated, "and it's open yet." Turning his free left arm, Ben touched the bandage at his side, and the hand came back moist and red. Now that it occurred to him, he was ridiculously weak. "I see. I'm liable to rip it more," he commented slowly. The other nodded. "Yes; don't talk. I ought to have stopped you before this." "Grannis!" There was no escaping the blue eyes this time. "Honestly, now, am I liable to be--done for, or not?" The foreman became instantly serious. "Honest, if you keep quiet you're all right. Doc said so not an hour ago. At first he thought different, that you'd never wake up; you bled like a pig with its throat cut; but this is what he told me when he left. 'Keep him quiet. It may take a month for that gap to heal, but if you're careful he'll pull through.'" Again the look of concern, and this time of contrition as well. "I ought to be ashamed of myself for letting you talk at all; but this is straight. Now don't say any more."