"How do you know what's in the letter, Mrs. Flynn?" asked Uncle Denny, with a wink at Murphy. "Because I read it," returned Mrs. Flynn, with shameless candor. "Somebody's got to keep track of the respects that's paid that poor boy or nobody'd ever know it. God knows I hate the Dutch, but they know a good man when they hear of one better than the Americans. And I wish you two'd get out of here while I set the table for dinner." The two men laughed and got their hats. "I'll meet you at the office shortly," said Uncle Denny. "I've a call to make." Pen was sitting on the doorstep when Uncle Denny came up. She was looking very tired and her cheeks were flushed. She rose and led him away from the tent. "Sara is very sick, Uncle Denny. I've given him some morphine, but he'll be coming out of it soon. Will you telephone from the office for the doctor?" "Is it the same old pain?" asked Dennis. "Yes, only worse. I--I am to blame, in a way. He has been growing worse lately and any excitement is dreadful for him. And then, I struck him, Uncle Denny! I shall never forgive myself for that. And yet, this morning he laughed at it. He said he never had thought so much of me as he had for that slap." Uncle Denny nodded. "He's deserved it a hundred times, Penny! That never made him worse. But this is no place for him. When I go back to New York, you and he must go with me." "Yes, I have felt the same way, about the excitement here. We'll go when you say, Uncle Denny." "Is the doctor here a good one?" "Splendid! A Johns Hopkins man here for his health." "What else can I do?" asked Uncle Denny. "Shall I come in and sit with him?" "No; ask Mrs. Flynn to come over after dinner. You go out and see the dam and be proud of your boy." "And of me girl," said Uncle Denny. He had been standing with his hat in his hand and now he bent and kissed Pen's cheek. "Erin go bragh!" said Pen. "Uncle Denny, I'm tired! I feel as if I were running on one cylinder and three punctured tires. I have to talk that way after my close association with Bill Evans!" Uncle Denny had a delightful trip over the Project with Murphy. He dined with the upper mess so that Mrs. Flynn could devote herself to Pen. After eating, he started down the great road to the tower foot to meet Murphy. Before he came to the tower, however, he came on a group of men hovering over the canyon edge. Uncle Denny gave an exclamation of pity. A mule with a pack on its back had slipped off the road and hung far below by the rope halter that had caught around a projecting rock. The hombre who had been driving the mule had gone for ropes. "See how still he keeps, the old cuss," said Jack Henderson gently. "A horse would have kicked himself to death long ago. That mule knows just what's holding him. A mule forgets more in a minute than a horse knows in a year."