They were good people--Buddhists. They mended my bones and cared for me, and it appears made me quite a chief man, in course of time, in their tiny village. But their little valley was so remote and unknown, so out of touch with any and everything, that no tale of this dumb white man ever reached Western ears. I was dumb until I learned their language, was "as a child of a day," they said--knew absolutely nothing. They taught me what they knew. I suppose I turned a prayer mill; I suppose I was married--Nellie didn't ask that, and they never mentioned such a detail. Furthermore, they gave so dim an account of where the place was that we don't know now; should have to locate that night's encampment, and then look for a precipice and go down it with ropes. As I have no longer any interest in those venerable races and time-honored customs, I think we will not do this. Well, she found me, and something happened. She says I knew her--shouted "Nellie!" and fell down--fell on a stone, too, and hit my head so hard they thought I was dead this time "for sure." But when I "came to" I came all the way, back to where I was thirty years ago; and as for those thirty years--I do not remember one day of them. Nor do I wish to. I have those filthy Tibetan clothes, sterilized and packed away, but I never want to look at them. I am back in the real world, back where I was at twenty-five. But now I am fifty-five---- * * * * * * Now, about Nellie. I must go slowly and get this thing straightened out for good and all. My little sister! I was always fond of her, and she adored me. She looked up to me, naturally; believed everything I told her; minded me like a little dog--when she was a child. And as she grew into girlhood, I had a strong restraining influence upon her. She wanted to be educated--to go to college--but father wouldn't hear of it, of course, and I backed him up. If there is anything on earth I always hated and despised, it is a strong-minded woman! That is--it _was_. I certainly cannot hate and despise my sister Nellie. Now it appears that soon after my departure from this life father died, very suddenly. Nellie inherited the farm--and the farm turned out to be a mine, and the mine turned out to be worth a good deal of money. So that poor child, having no natural guardian or protector, just set to work for herself--went to college to her heart's content, to a foreign university, too. She studied medicine, practiced a while, then was offered a chair in a college and took it; then--I hate to write it--but she is now president of a college--_a co-educational college_! "Don't you mean 'dean?'" I asked her. "No," she said. "There is a dean of the girl's building--but I am the president." My little sister! * * * * * *