Opening his backpack, he took out his leather medicine bag and drew out the stones one by one, rubbing his fingers over each. He opened his shirt and touched the tip of the bear's claw to the five scars on his chest. Then, on impulse, he touched it to the old scar on his cheek. A black leather bag contained his surgical instruments--two saws, a big one for legs and a smaller one for arms; four scalpels; lancets for bleeding; a turnkey for pulling teeth; a probe and tongs for removing bullets; a small jar of opium. Any of those things might be needed, where he was going. Last, he took out a book, chosen almost at random from his small collection. On the spine of its brown leather cover was stamped in gold: "J. Milton. _Paradise Lost_." Reverend Hale had recommended that he take a Bible. This long poem giving the Christian account of creation was the next thing to a Bible. But he had read it at St. George's and enjoyed it. And its title and its story of Adam and Eve being driven out of the Garden of Eden made him think of how he was dispossessed. Perhaps he would find some wisdom or guidance in the book. Today he thought, _Paradise lost? It may be that I'm returning to paradise._ But then he remembered how Nancy had wanted to "know" him as Adam knew Eve. He _was_ leaving behind what might have been a great happiness. He opened the book and read the first verse his eye fell upon: High on a Throne of Royal State, which far Outshone the wealth of _Ormus_ and of _Ind_, Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Show'rs on her Kings _Barbaric_ Pearl and Gold, Satan exalted sat ... Sounded like Raoul, with his fifty Spanish dollars and his steamboat and lead mine and trading post. Raoul was better fitted to be Satan than to be the angel at the gates of Eden keeping sinners away. He heard voices nearby. One, faint but unmistakable, was Grandpapa's. His heart leaped. He quickly repacked his treasures. He pushed the curtain aside and hurried across the hall. It was a joy to see Elysee's eyes looking at him, open and bright. "I do not as a rule believe in miracles," Elysee said, smiling at Auguste, "but it's certainly a miracle that you could charge a man pointing a pistol at your chest and come out with nothing but a bump on your head." "It's a bad enough bump, Grandpapa," said Auguste, dragging over the chair he had sat in last night and pulling it close to the side of the bed. "I wish I could stay and doctor you." "Our local midwife says I too will heal," said Elysee. "I can move all my arms and legs without extreme pain. I think the worst injury was to my hip." He touched his right side gently. "I bruised it when I fell. There's swelling there, but I can move my leg. The hip is not broken." He closed his eyes, and Auguste knew that the old man was feeling a sharper pain in his heart than in his bones. "You must not think of staying here. I am afraid Raoul is perfectly capable of murdering you."