Eleazar had slunk away about the house, but Hector, left alone with Jeanne, improved the shining hour. In a few moments he had informed her that he was most happy to see one so beautiful, one, moreover, who spoke his own tongue--although perhaps, it was true, not quite as that tongue was spoken in Canada. As for himself, he was a cooper, and had a most excellent business, yonder at St. Genevieve. But the society of St. Genevieve--ah, well! And so on, very swimmingly. In the sick chamber Jamieson advanced with one glance at Dunwody's fevered face. "What's up, Dunwody?" said he. "What has gone wrong? Easy now, never mind." He shook his head over the results of his first scrutiny. He turned to Josephine, "Have you ever seen anybody hurt?" "I've been on two battlefields," said she. "I've nursed a little." Dunwody turned to her a face whose eyes now were glazed with suffering. He nodded to Jamieson without any word. "Sally, get some hot water, quick!" called out Jamieson in the hall. "So, now, old man, let's see." He stripped the covering quite down and bared the lower limb, removing the bandage which he had originally applied. For a moment he looked at the angry wound. Then he pulled back the covering, and turned away. "Well, well, what is it?" croaked Dunwody hoarsely, half-rising on his crumpled pillow. Jamieson did not reply. "I fell, out there in the hall. Weight must have come on the bad place in the leg. I think the bone snapped." "I think so too! That mightn't have been so bad--but then you stood a while on that bad leg, eh? Now look here, Dunwody; do you know what shape you are in now?" "No, I only know it hurts." "If that leg were mine, do you know what I'd do with it?" "No; but it isn't yours." "Well, I'd have it off--as quick as it could come, that's all. If you don't, you'll lose your life." "You don't mean that?" whispered Dunwody tensely, after a time. "You don't mean that, Doctor?" "I mean every word I say. It's blood poisoning." The only answer his patient made was to reach a slow hand under his pillow and draw out a long-barreled revolver, which he laid upon the bed beside him. "I didn't think you such a coward," ruminated Jamieson, rubbing his chin. "If you think I'm afraid of the hurt of it, I'll let you do your work first, and I'll do mine afterward," gasped Dunwody slowly. "But I'm not going to live a cripple. I'll not be maimed." They looked each other firmly in the face. "Is it so bad as all that, Doctor?" demanded Josephine. Her answer was a sad look from the gray old eyes. "Blood poison. Some kind of an aggravation. It's traveling fast." Josephine gazed down at the bulky figure lying there prone, so lately full of rugged ferocity, now so weak and helpless. Her eye fell on the weapon lying on the bed. She gently removed it. "That was what he preferred to my skill," commented Jamieson.