"Get some brandy, you fools!" said he. "Here's a friend o' mine got faint for want of his supper--been too long out shootin'. Fetch a glass of water here too! Jenny Lowndes, you go tell Jem Waters that 'ere plaguey black heifer has got out of the yard. You send him to me, and if you spile the frolic with your story I'll have nothing more to do with you, I give you my word!" Mr. Simlins was obeyed. He himself went back with the water and the brandy, which he tenderly applied to Mr. Linden's forehead and lips, and seeing the handkerchief's ineffectual disposition had taken it off and bound it on tight by the time Jem Waters, one of his farm hands, had reached the porch. The two then taking the sufferer in their arms carried him into the house and into Mr. Simlins' room, which was on the first floor, where they laid him on the bed. Jem Waters was then despatched for Dr. Harrison, with orders to hold his tongue and not say what he was sent for. And Jem Waters, the swiftest runner in Pattaquasset, set off and ran every step of the way, till the doctor was found. The cold applications, the resting posture, seemed to do their work, and Mr. Simlins was rewarded with a smile from both eyes and lips. He did not speak again however till he had seen a spoonful of brandy enter the lips; then with a grave concern that did not seem like Mr. Simlins, he said, in a subdued tone, "How do you find yourself? Can you speak now?" "Not much--" Mr. Linden answered with some effort. "I find myself in very kind hands." "Are you hurt anywhere else?" "Somewhat--the shot scattered, I think." There was a smothered execration, and then it was a very kind hand that renewed the touch of cold water to his forehead, though a big, brown and rough one. "I've sent for the doctor--and now I'll get you a nurse. You keep quiet, till you can do something else." Mr. Simlins gently went forth; and in a minute after was in the midst of his husking party in the barn. "Reuben Taylor!" said the farmer--"You don't mind takin' a run, do you? Wouldn't you just as lieves help me catch that black heifer--afore she gets to Pequot?" Reuben started up, and signified his ability to catch anything whatever. He was not alone; for half a dozen others volunteered to be equally ready. "You keep where you be!" said the farmer with a wave of his hand to the half dozen. "I don't let everybody chase that 'ere heifer--you've got to catch her by the head and not by the foot, I tell _you!_ Reuben, you come along." And getting him well outside of the barn and half way towards the house, Mr. Simlins said in a very low growl indeed, "Mr. Linden's here--he's been hurt, somehow, in his arm--and he's kind 'o faint; I want you to stay by him till the doctor comes, and then let me know. If I don't keep in the barn they'll raise Plute--or they'll come in--and I'd as lieves they'd do one as 'tother."