"Time enough for that," said Gordon. He spoke coolly, but James saw him shaking as if with the ague. He was deadly white, and his whole face looked drawn and withered. Aaron came leading the team harnessed to the wagon out of the stable. He had brought down the mattress and blankets, as the doctor had directed, and the three men after the rude bed had been made in the wagon lifted the man thereon. He seemed to be conscious, but his muttering was so weak as to be almost inaudible, save for occasional words. After he was in the wagon Gordon, turning to James, said: "You had better go in the house and stay with the women. Aaron will go with me. I shall take this man to the hotel, to Georgie K.'s." A perfect volley of mumbled remonstrances came from the prostrate figure in the wagon. Gordon seemed to understand him. "No, I shall not take you there," he said, "but to the hotel. You will be better cared for. I know the proprietor." He got in beside the man, and seated himself on the floor of the wagon. Aaron mounted to the driver's seat. "Tell Clemency and her mother not to worry if they are awake," Gordon called to James as the horses started. James said yes and went into the house. He entered through the office door, and directly Clemency was in his arms, all trembling and half-weeping. "Oh, what has happened? Has Uncle Tom taken him away?" she quavered. "Hush, dear, you will wake your mother. Yes, he has taken him away." "What was the matter, tell me." "He was unconscious. He had fallen." "He came to. I heard him speak. Were any bones broken?" "No, I think not. You must go to bed; it it very late, dear." Clemency had put fresh wood on the hearth, and the little place was all a-waver and a-flicker with firelight. Grotesque shadows danced over the walls and ceiling, and sprawled uncertainly on the floor. Clemency looked up in James's face, and her own had a shocked whiteness and horror, in spite of the tenderness in his. "Tell--" she began. "What, dear?" "Was it--that man?" James hesitated. "Tell me," Clemency said imperiously. "Yes, I think it was." Clemency glanced as if instinctively at the dog, lying asleep in a white coil on the hearth. "What was the matter with him?" she asked in a hardly audible voice. "He had fallen, dear, and was unconscious." "Nothing--" Clemency glanced again at the dog, and did not complete her question. "He had recovered consciousness," James said hastily. "Then he is not going to die." It was impossible to say what kind of relief was in the girl's voice, but relief there was. "I see no reason why he should. I don't think your uncle thought he would die." "Where have they taken him?" "To the hotel. Now, Clemency dear, you must put all this out of your mind and go to bed." Clemency obeyed like a child. She kissed James, took a candle, and went upstairs.