But wait a minute, we are not yet satisfied that the leg is broken. How do you know that her leg is fractured? If you see the bone protruding, or an angle or lump anywhere between the joints, or if your friend cannot move her leg, or if she can move the upper half but not the lower half, or if she thinks that her leg is broken because she heard a snap, or for other reasons, you may be pretty certain that the leg is broken. You cannot tell for certain, and you must not try to make certain. If you attempt to prove that her bone is broken, you may convert a simple into a compound fracture—a trivial into an extremely serious condition. But you must do something. Here you are, out on a road, five miles from anywhere, with a friend lying in the road with a broken leg. What are you to do? Splint the leg. For a splint you may use an umbrella, a walking-stick, a branch of a tree, a newspaper strengthened with twigs, or anything that is handy. Place the splint against the limb, and with your own and your friend’s handkerchiefs tie the splint to the leg. Tie it with the handkerchiefs a long way above and below the broken place. Then place your friend on the floor of the conveyance and drive slowly home or to the nearest surgeon. Upon this emergency-splinting a very great surgeon—let us call him Sir William Sawyer—tells an amusing story. He was walking along a country road, and came across a cart overturned, with one wheel broken, in the middle of the road. A man was lying near the cart. On approaching him the surgeon saw that his thigh was broken. He immediately turned out his pockets and found two old newspapers. Between these two papers he “sandwiched” a good number of twigs, and then wrapped the whole concern about the thigh of the injured man. When he had done this, he became aware of the presence of a second man, apparently uninjured, staring at him. He therefore bade him go to the nearest village and fetch a surgeon. When he got to the village, he went to the nearest medical man and asked him to come quickly, for “an old idiot was stuffing his mate with newspapers.” What was the medical man’s surprise to see that the “old idiot” was Sir William Sawyer! (_To be continued._) “OUR HERO.” A TALE OF THE FRANCO-ENGLISH WAR NINETY YEARS AGO. BY AGNES GIBERNE, Author of “Sun, Moon and Stars,” “The Girl at the Dower House,” etc. CHAPTER XXVI. THE DEAR OLD COUNTRY. The month of April, 1808, saw Polly and Molly again in London—not this time for the enjoyment of gay assemblies. Old Mrs. Fairbank, after many months of gradual failure, had passed away in an acute attack of bronchitis, and Mrs. Bryce immediately offered a home to the two girls until, at least, it might be possible to know the wishes of Colonel and Mrs. Baron. Though Mr. Bryce, as usual, only had to assent to his wife’s proposition, he did so with a heartiness not always shown towards every wish of hers.