On the arrival of the physician from the Y, he first visited Jack, and leaving directions to be carried out for his temporary relief, next attended to the setting of Houston's arm and the dressing of his wounds. The operation required some time, but at last it was completed, and Houston returned to Jack's room. The room had been darkened, and in accordance with the physician's directions, Jack's beard had been shaven and his hair closely cut, to relieve his head as much as possible. His breathing was more natural, but he lay quiet and motionless as before. As Houston approached the bed in the dim light, he scarcely recognized his friend, so great was the change in his appearance, but as he drew nearer, he started visibly. Something in the smooth face and closely clipped head seemed wonderfully familiar, and carried him back to the days when he had first entered his uncle's home. Bending over him for an instant, he scanned the features more closely. It was enough! The face with its patrician features carved in such perfect beauty, though lined by sorrow, was the face of his cousin,--his boyish hero and ideal. With a quick, dry sob, Houston turned from the bedside, more deeply moved than any of his associates had ever seen him. "Great God!" he exclaimed, in low tones, "it is Guy Cameron! my cousin Guy!" and bending over the unconscious form once more, while the great tears coursed slowly down his face, he murmured: "Guy, dear old fellow, and you have known me all this time! God grant this has not come too late!" With a low cry, Lyle had sprung to Houston's side, while Leslie and Ned Rutherford followed, and the others looked on in mute wonder and astonishment. Her quick ear had caught the name. "What name did you say?" she cried eagerly, "Did you say Guy Cameron? Is Jack--my Jack--is he my mother's brother?" Houston bowed in assent, he could not speak. "Oh," moaned Lyle, "no wonder that he loved us so! and we have not loved him half enough!" and dropping on her knees beside the bed, sobbing bitterly, she seized the hand, nearly as white as the sheet upon which it lay, and covered it with passionate kisses. A few moments later, Morton Rutherford entered the room; Lyle was still kneeling by the bedside; beside her was Leslie, quietly weeping. Ned's eyes were suspiciously red, while in one corner, honest-hearted Mike was vainly trying to check his fast-flowing tears upon the sleeves of his blouse. Morton looked quickly toward the strangely altered face upon the pillows, and was struck by its wondrous beauty. Glancing inquiringly at Houston, as he advanced to meet him, he asked anxiously: "Is he worse?" "No, there is no change yet, one way or another," Houston replied in low tones, and continued, "Morton, we were speaking last night, at the cabin, of my uncle's son,--my cousin, Guy Cameron." "Yes, I remember."