“Yes,” said Johnny, with some slight abatement of interest, “I've heerd o' HIM before. Thar, that'll do, dad. I don't ache near so bad as I did. Now wrap me tight in this yer blanket. So. Now,” he added in a muffled whisper, “sit down yer by me till I go asleep.” To assure himself of obedience, he disengaged one hand from the blanket and, grasping his father's sleeve, again composed himself to rest. For some moments the Old Man waited patiently. Then the unwonted stillness of the house excited his curiosity, and without moving from the bed, he cautiously opened the door with his disengaged hand, and looked into the main room. To his infinite surprise it was dark and deserted. But even then a smouldering log on the hearth broke, and by the upspringing blaze he saw the figure of Dick Bullen sitting by the dying embers. “Hello!” Dick started, rose, and came somewhat unsteadily toward him. “Whar's the boys?” said the Old Man. “Gone up the canyon on a little pasear. They're coming back for me in a minit. I'm waitin' round for 'em. What are you starin' at, Old Man?” he added with a forced laugh; “do you think I'm drunk?” The Old Man might have been pardoned the supposition, for Dick's eyes were humid and his face flushed. He loitered and lounged back to the chimney, yawned, shook himself, buttoned up his coat and laughed. “Liquor ain't so plenty as that, Old Man. Now don't you git up,” he continued, as the Old Man made a movement to release his sleeve from Johnny's hand. “Don't you mind manners. Sit jest whar you be; I'm goin' in a jiffy. Thar, that's them now.” There was a low tap at the door. Dick Bullen opened it quickly, nodded “Good night” to his host, and disappeared. The Old Man would have followed him but for the hand that still unconsciously grasped his sleeve. He could have easily disengaged it: it was small, weak, and emaciated. But perhaps because it WAS small, weak, and emaciated, he changed his mind, and, drawing his chair closer to the bed, rested his head upon it. In this defenceless attitude the potency of his earlier potations surprised him. The room flickered and faded before his eyes, reappeared, faded again, went out, and left him--asleep. Meantime Dick Bullen, closing the door, confronted his companions. “Are you ready?” said Staples. “Ready,” said Dick; “what's the time?” “Past twelve,” was the reply; “can you make it?--it's nigh on fifty miles, the round trip hither and yon.” “I reckon,” returned Dick, shortly. “Whar's the mare?” “Bill and Jack's holdin' her at the crossin'.” “Let 'em hold on a minit longer,” said Dick.