“Don’t be a fool!” he muttered, kneeling beside the still form and running a hand under the vest. “You don’t want him to die, do you? Here, hold his head up――so; that’s it.” There was an instant’s silence broken only by Holly’s dry, choking sobs. Then Julian arose briskly to his feet. “Just as I said,” he muttered. “Stunned. Find Uncle Ran and we’ll take him into the house and attend to him!” “No, no! I’ll stay here,” said Holly, brokenly. “Hurry! Hurry!” For an instant Julian hesitated, scowling down upon her. Then, with a muttered word, he turned abruptly and ran toward the house. Holly, huddled against the fence with Winthrop’s head on her knee, held tightly to one limp hand and watched with wide, terrified eyes. The face was so white and cold in the moonlight! There was a little troubled frown on the forehead, as though the soul was wondering and perplexed. Had Julian spoken the truth? Was he really only stunned, or was this death that she looked on? Would they never come? She gripped his hand in a sudden panic of awful fear. Supposing death came and took him away from her while she sat there impotent! She bent closer above him, as though to hide him, and as she did so he gave a groan. Her heart leaped. “Dear,” she whispered, “it’s Holly. She wants you. You won’t die, will you? When you know that I want you, you won’t leave me, will you? What would I do without you, dear? I’ve so long to live!” Footsteps hurried across the porch and down the steps. Very gently Holly yielded her burden to Uncle Ran, and Winthrop was carried into the house, where Aunt India, in a pink flowered wrapper, awaited them at the head of the stairs. They bore Winthrop into his room and laid him, still unconscious, on his bed. Holly’s gaze clung to the white face. “Get on Queen, Uncle Ran, and ride in for the Old Doctor,” Julian directed. “Tell him there’s a collar-bone to set. You had better leave us, Holly.” “No, no!” cried Holly, new fear gripping her heart. “Holly!” said her aunt. “Go at once, girl. This is no place for you.” But Holly made no answer. Her eyes were fixed on the silent form on the bed. Julian laid his hand on her arm. “Come,” he said. She started and tore away from him, her eyes ablaze. “Don’t touch me!” she whispered, hoarsely, shudderingly. “Don’t touch me, Julian! You’ve killed him! I want never to see you again!” “Holly!” exclaimed Miss India, astoundedly. “I am going, Auntie.” Julian held the door open for her, looking troubledly at her as she passed out. But she didn’t see him. The door closed behind her. She heard Julian’s quick steps across the floor and the sound of murmuring voices. A deep sob shook her from head to feet. Falling to her knees she laid her forehead against the frame of the door, her hands clasping and unclasping convulsively. “Dear God,” she moaned, “I didn’t mean this! I didn’t mean this!” [Illustration] XIII.