"Welting a man on the head with a whip-stock ain't anything, hey?" "I didn't touch him. We was racing, and he run into the culvert." "Hank says he saw you strike him." "He lies! I was strikin' the horse to make him break!" "Oh, yeh was!" sneered the older man. "Well, I hope you understand that this'll ruin you in this town. If you didn't strike him, they'll say you run him into the culvert, 'n' every man, woman, 'n' child'll be down on you, and _me_ f'r bein' related to you. They all know how you feel toward him for cuttin' you out with Maud Welsh." "Oh, don't bear down on him too hard, Joe. He didn't mean t' do any harm," said Troutt, who had followed Ed down to the store. "I guess the young feller 'll come out all right. Just go kind o' easy till we see how he turns out. If he dies, why, it'll haf t' be looked into." Ed turned pale and swallowed hastily. "If he should die I'll be a murderer," he thought. He acknowledged that hate was in his heart, and he shivered as he remembered the man's white face with the bright red stream flowing down behind his ear and over his cheek. It almost seemed to him that he _had_ struck him, so close had the accident followed upon the fall of his whip. III Albert sank into a feverish sleep that night, with a vague perception of four figures in the room--Maud, her mother, Hartley, and the young doctor. When he awoke fully in the morning his head felt prodigiously hot and heavy. It was early dawn, and the lamp was burning brightly. Outside, a man's feet could be heard on the squealing snow--a sound which told how still and cold it was. A team passed with a jingle of bells. Albert raised his head and looked about. Hartley was lying on the sofa, rolled up in his overcoat and some extra quilts. He had lain down at last, worn with watching. Albert felt a little weak, and fell back on his pillow, thinking about the strange night he had passed--a night more filled with strange happenings than the afternoon. As the light grew in the room his mind cleared, and lifting his muscular arm he opened and shut his hand, saying aloud, in his old boyish manner: "I guess I'm all here." "What's that?" called Hartley, rolling out of bed. "Did you ask for anything?" "Give me some water, Jim; my mouth is dry as a powder-mill." "How yeh feelin', anyway, pardner?" said Hartley, as he brought the water. "First-rate, Jim; I guess I'll be all right." "Well, I guess you'd better keep quiet." He threw on his coat next, and went out into the kitchen, returning soon with some hot water, with which he began to bathe his partner's face and hands as tenderly as a woman. "There; now I guess you're in shape f'r grub--feel any like grub?--Come in," he called, in answer to a knock on the door. Mrs. Welsh entered. "How is he?" she whispered, anxiously. "Oh, I'm all right," replied Albert.