Someone was shaking him gently and calling “Gordon! Wake up!” He stretched and opened his eyes. “Yes’m,” he muttered sleepily. But it couldn’t be morning, for it was almost dark and—and where was he? He sat up quickly then and gazed about him in blank surprise until his roaming glance encountered the smilingly concerned face of Louise Brent bending above him. “Oh!” he said, recollection coming to him. “Have you been here all the time?” asked Louise. “You poor boy!” “I—I must have fallen asleep,” admitted Gordon sheepishly. “How—how is he, Louise?” The girl’s face went suddenly serious in the twilight. “He’s pretty badly hurt,” she said. “One leg is broken and he hurt his head horribly, Gordon.” “Is that all?” he asked anxiously. “They think so. Seems to me it’s quite enough, though.” “Of course, only——” Gordon heaved a sigh of relief—“I was afraid he was dying. He—he looked so awfully!” “Yes, didn’t he?” Louise shuddered. “He is still unconscious, but Doctor Mayrick says he will get his senses back in a little while. He must have had an awful blow on his head. Would you mind telling me just how it happened, Gordon, or are you too tired?” He recounted the incidents of the unfortunate ride rather uncertainly. Somehow, they had got pretty much mixed up by now. “But I think you were splendid,” said the girl warmly. “To think of stopping the trolley car was fine, Gordon. You must have been dreadfully scared and—and everything. And wasn’t it a wonder you weren’t hurt too?” “Yes, I suppose so. I guess it would have been better if Morris had been thrown out of the car too. It was the steering wheel that kept him in, I think.” “I don’t see how you ever thought of lifting the car up with the—that thing you spoke of,” she said admiringly. “Goodness, I’d have been so frightened I’d have just cried!” “I guess I’d better be going home,” said Gordon. “Yes, it must be quite late. And you haven’t had any supper, have you? I wish I’d found you here before.” “I don’t believe I want any,” he murmured. “I—I’m mighty glad he isn’t hurt any worse. I’ll come around to-morrow if you don’t mind and see how he is.” “Please do. Mama will want to see you, Gordon.” “I suppose your father is pretty angry, isn’t he?” asked Gordon. “He’s too upset and anxious now to be angry,” replied Louise. “But I suppose he will have something to say to Morris later. I felt all the time that he shouldn’t run that car. It was horrid of him to get it without letting anyone know.” “I guess he’s got his punishment,” replied Gordon grimly. “A broken leg will keep him laid up a long time. I’m awfully sorry for him. Good-night, Louise.” It seemed a terribly long distance to his home, although it was in reality but two blocks. His father was on the porch, reading under the electric light, when Gordon reached the steps. Down went the paper and Mr. Merrick viewed his son with cold severity. “Well, Gordon, where have you been?” he asked. “Over to the Point, sir. I—we——”