Bud dove for a dresser and pulled out a drawer, returning instantly with a roll of white cloth, which he unfolded as he knelt beside the bed. For an instant after kneeling he scratched his head, looking at Taylor’s feet in perplexity, and then he looked up at Taylor, his face thoughtfully furrowed. “Which ankle was it I bandaged before?” he demanded; “I’ve forgot!” Taylor groaned. He, too, had forgotten. Since he had talked with Neil Norton about the ankle directly after the fight with Carrington in front of the courthouse he had tried in vain to remember which ankle he had bandaged for Miss Harlan’s benefit. Driven to the necessity of making a quick decision, his brain became a mere muddle of desperate conjecture. Out of the muddle sprang a disgust for Bud for _his_ poor memory. “You’ve forgot!” he blurted at Bud. “Why, damn it, you ought to know which one it was—you bandaged it!” “Well,” grinned Bud gleefully, “it was _your_ ankle, wasn’t it? Strikes me that if I busted one of _my_ ankles I wouldn’t forget which one it was! Leastways, if I’d busted it just to hang around a girl!” Taylor sneered scornfully. “You wouldn’t bust an ankle for a girl—you ain’t got backbone enough. Hell!” he exploded; “do something! Take a chance and bandage one of them—I don’t care a damn which one! If she noticed the other time, I’ll tell her that one was cured and I busted the other one!” “She’d know you was lyin’,” grinned Bud. He stood erect, his eyes alight with an inspiration. “Wrap up both of ’em!” he suggested. “If she goes to gittin’ curious—which she will, bein’ a woman—tell her you busted both of ’em!” “It won’t do,” objected Taylor; “I couldn’t lie that heavy an’ keep a straight face.” Bud began to wrap the left ankle. As he worked, the doubt in his eyes began to fade and was succeeded by conviction. When he finished, he stood up and grinned at Taylor. “That’s the one,” he said; “the left. I mind, now, that we talked about it. You go right out to her, limpin’, the same as you done before, an’ she’ll not say a word about it. You’ll see.” Taylor grunted disbelievingly, and hobbled to the front door. He looked back at Bud, who was snickering, made a malicious grimace at him, and softly opened the door. Miss Harlan had been asleep, but she was not asleep when Taylor opened the door. Indeed, she was never more wide awake in her life. At the sound of the door opening she turned her head and sat stiffly erect, to face Taylor. Taylor looked apologetically at his ankle, his cheeks tinged with a flush of embarrassment. “This ankle, ma’am—it ain’t quite well yet. You’ll excuse me not being gone. But Bud—that’s my friend—says it won’t be quite right for a few days yet. But I won’t be in your way—and I hope you enjoy yourself.”