It was four days after the riot. Captain Murray was still at the hospital, recovering but slowly from the shock and severity of his wounds. There was no longer any doubt that his condition was the result of a deliberate attempt to cripple the efficiency of the local militia company on the eve of the proposed invasion of Fairweather. His assailants were being held in the county jail without bail to await the result of his injuries. In the same hospital lay also General Chick. He was desperately ill. The powers of disease had fastened upon his crippled and weakened body with terrible avidity. It could not be denied that his grief and anxiety over the anticipated fate of his beloved lieutenant had not only hastened his illness but was mainly responsible for the ferocity of the attack. Repeated and positive assurances had not been sufficient to free his mind of the harassing belief that he, as an unwilling witness, was to be the chief cause of the officer’s downfall. It was on the morning of this fourth day that Miss Anderson, the trained nurse who was caring for Chick, went into Captain Murray’s room, as she had been requested to do, to make her daily report concerning the boy’s condition. “He is no better,” she said. “Of course we do not expect that he will be any better. But if we could only get his mind relieved as to Lieutenant McCormack’s fate--you know that is what he worries about mostly--I am sure he would have less temperature, and be much more comfortable.” Captain Murray started to raise himself on his elbow, but fell back with a gasp of pain. “Why!” he exclaimed, “hasn’t he heard yet? Doesn’t he know about McCormack?” “He knows nothing new about him.” “Well, you tell him that yesterday the court martial handed down a decree dismissing the charges. Tell him that McCormack has been acquitted; that he is free. Do you understand? Tell him that the court-martial is all over, and that McCormack is free; absolutely free!” When the nurse came in to make her afternoon report she had scarcely crossed the door-sill before Captain Murray called out to her: “Did you tell him, Miss Anderson?” “Yes, I told him.” “Did he understand? What did he say?” “I think he understood. I never before saw such a rapturous look on a human face. He--he lay very quiet for--a while. Then he said----” Hardened as she was to pathetic sights and sounds, the lips of the tender-hearted nurse trembled, her voice failed her, and, with tears rolling down her cheeks, she turned and fled from the captain’s room.