Miss Jule was away the first day of this unwise hunting. When she came home she found Mr. Wolf more tired still, and she was fairly shocked to see how lean his body was, now that the thick, long hair that had given it bulk was pasted close by mud and water. She had him carefully dried by the kitchen fire, well brushed out, fed him herself with warm stew, and put him to bed in a box stall deep with straw covered with a horse blanket for a bed, thinking to keep him prisoner a few days for his own good and give him the necessary exercise herself. The next day was bright and warm for the season, and Miss Jule thought that a sun bath on the south piazza would do Ben worlds of good. When she went for him he whined with joy, licked her hands, and looked into her face with old-time fervour; but when they started together toward the house, he lagged behind, took a few steps, lay down, then struggled to his feet and seemed to force himself to cover the distance, sinking down on the mat his mistress placed in the porch corner with a sigh, and closed his eyes. Miss Jule plainly saw that Ben Uncas was very ill, and wishing to take no risks, she telephoned for a skilled veterinarian from the town half a dozen miles away. In another hour the quick trot of his horses’ hoofs sounded on the drive. A good veterinary surgeon who loves his work, always comes quickly, for he knows the sorrow of helplessly watching the pain of an animal who cannot put his needs into the words House People can understand. He took temperature and pulse, felt here and listened there, and said poor Ben had distemper from wasted strength and drinking ditch water when on the run. He said Mr. Wolf was very ill, but not, he thought, past help. He must go back to the box stall where he could have both air and shelter, and leaving medicine to be faithfully given, he went away, promising to come again at night. For a time Ben seemed brighter and walked back to the stable without resting on the way, took a long drink of water, swallowed his medicine without a struggle, and fell into a doze. In the afternoon he waked, tried to drink the soup Miss Jule brought him, and could not, neither could he swallow water, though he gratefully licked a bit of ice his mistress gave him. Then when pain seized him and his sunken eyes told of suffering, she put hot cloths upon his stomach and gently rubbed his head which laid in her lap. The surgeon came at evening, looked sober, but said to keep on with the medicine, and that Ben would probably improve the next morning. That night the horses in the stable saw an odd sight--fat, middle-aged Miss Jule, buttoned to the chin in an old ulster with a crimson wool Tam O’ Shanter cap of Letty’s fastened on askew, was sitting on an upturned pail in the box stall beside her sick friend, while for company, Martin, the reliable, slept on a heap of hay in a distant corner, wrapped in a carriage robe.