Lanterns were now brought from the Mansion, and a crowd of Oakes's men collected around us. I noticed that Moore and Hallen were looking at me curiously; and then Oakes stepped to my side from somewhere out in the darkness. "You're sick, old fellow!" he said softly. "Sick!" and then I realized that things were strangely distant, that faces seemed far, far away, and that Moore's voice was miles off as he rushed to my side. "Wounded! Look at his arm," he cried. "Yes," I murmured; "it was that last shot--I forgot it." I tried to raise the arm and saw that a red-blue stream was running down and dripping from my hand upon the ground. I stepped forward to point to Hallen, and to tell about how he slugged Elliott; but as I moved I lurched forward, and a great strong arm closed about me and a tender voice whispered--miles--miles away. It was Oakes's voice. "Here, Hallen, give us a hand," and I felt myself lifted tenderly and carried across the plateau. I was dimly conscious that Moore was working silently, rapidly, at my side, and that the strong, supple arm of Oakes was about me, and that Hallen was helping. A great wave of affection came over me for these tender, dear fellows--and I talked long and loud as Elliott wiped my face; and I told Moore that Elliott was a past master at slugging--and all the time the crowd grew. I heard the name of Mr. Clark shouted, and then my own; and then, as they bore me in at the Mansion gate, I passed away off into the distance and went into a deep, dark tunnel where all was quiet and still. And then I again heard Moore's voice saying: "He has fainted, Oakes. Get him to bed, or he will faint again." There was such gentle tenderness in the faces around me, such gentle, strong words, and such gentle, strong lifting of my body, that I sighed at the deliciousness of it all--the splendor, the beauty of my journey--and all for two dollars' railroad fare. I heard some curious statements about great bravery in dashing after the unknown, and all that sort of thing--and I knew enough to realize that the crowd had things twisted. Oakes was speaking to me like a big brother, and Hallen had somehow quit all his bluster, and was quiet and grave, and Moore and Elliott seemed foolishly attentive. I appreciated their kindness, but did not quite understand, and their attentions amused me. I should have laughed outright, but things were becoming confused. Then I realized that they were worried. How peculiar it seemed! The angel of friendship was about me. I felt a strange peacefulness as I entered the great Mansion. It seemed like a palace with golden walls, and the familiar voices of welcome warmed me.