Boot heels clicked on the stone flooring. Val turned his head cautiously and tried not to wince. Rupert was coming in with a bowl of water, from which steam still arose. Across his arm lay a towel and in his other hand was their small first-aid kit. "Suppose we do a little patching," he suggested. "Your face at present is not all it might be. What did you and your swamp friend do--run into a mowing machine?" He swabbed delicately at the cut the Boss had opened across Val's cheek-bone, and at another by his mouth. "I thought it might be that for a moment--a mowing machine, I mean. No, we just met a couple of gentlemen--enterprising fellows who wanted to see more of this commodious mansion of ours--" Val's words faded into a sharp hiss as Rupert applied iodine with a liberal hand. "They seemed to think that Jeems knew a lot about Pirate's Haven and they were going to persuade him to tell all. Only it didn't turn out the way they had planned." "Due to you?" Rupert eyed his brother intently. The boy's face was swollen almost out of recognition and he didn't like this sudden talkativeness. "Due partly to me, but mostly to Ricky. She--ah--created the necessary diversion. I had sort of lost interest at the time. I know so little about gouging and biting in clinches." "Dirty fighters?" "Well, soiled anyway. But if the Boss isn't nursing a cracked wrist, it isn't my fault. I don't know what Jeems did to Red, but he, too, departed in a damaged condition. Do you have to do that?" Val demanded testily, squirming as Rupert ran his hands lightly over the boy's shoulders and down his ribs, touching every bruise to tingling life. "Just seeing the extent of the damage," he explained. "You don't have to see, I can feel!" Val snapped pettishly. Rupert got to his feet. "Come on." "Where?" "Oh, a hot bath and then bed. You'll be taking an interest in life again about this time tomorrow. I think LeFrode had better see you too." "No," Val objected. "I'm not a child." Rupert grinned. "If you'd rather I carried you--" There was no opposing Rupert when he was in that mood, as his brother well knew. Val got up slowly. The program that Rupert had outlined was faithfully carried out. Half an hour later Val found himself between sheets, blinking at the ceiling drowsily. When two cracks overhead wavered together of their own accord, his eyes closed. "--still sleeping?" whispered someone at his side much later. "Yes, best thing for him." "Was he badly hurt?" "No, just banged around more than was good for him." Val opened his eyes. It must have been close to dusk, for the sunlight was red across the bedclothes. Rupert stood by the window and Ricky was in the doorway, a tray of covered dishes in her hands. "Hello!" Val sat up, grimacing at the twinge of pain across his back. "What day is this?" Rupert laughed. "Still Tuesday." "How's Jeems?"