“Snow-Burner,” grunted Tilly, laying his head on the pillow. “He send me. Sleep um now.” “Sure,” sighed Toppy, and promptly fell back into his moaning, feverish slumber. CHAPTER IX—A FRESH START When he awoke again to clear consciousness, it was morning. The sun which came in through the east window shone in his eyes and lighted up the room. Toppy lay still. He was quite content to lie so. An inexplicable feeling of peace and comfort ruled in every inch of his being. The bored, heavy feeling with which for a long time past he had been in the custom of facing a new day was absolutely gone. His tongue was cool; there was none of the old heavy blood-pressure in his head; his nerves were absolutely quiet. Something had happened to him. Toppy was quite conscious of the change, though he was too comfortable to do more than accept his peaceful condition as a fact. “Ho, hum! I feel like a new man,” he murmured drowsily. “I wonder—ow!” He had stretched himself leisurely and thus became conscious that his left ankle was bandaged and sore. His cry brought old Campbell into the room—Campbell solemnly arrayed in a long-tailed suit of black, white collar, black tie, spick and span, with beard and hair carefully washed and combed. “Hello!” gasped Toppy sleepily. “Where you going—funeral?” “’Tis the Sabbath,” said Campbell reverently, as he came to the side of the bunk. “And how do ye feel the day, lad?” “Fine!” said Toppy. “Considering that I had my ankle sprained last evening.” The Scot eyed him closely. “So ’twas last evening ye broke your ankle, was it?” he asked cannily. “Why, sure,” said Toppy. “Yesterday was Saturday, wasn’t it? We were cleaning up the week’s work. Why, what are you looking at me like that for?” “Aye,” said Campbell, his Sunday solemnity forbidding the smile that strove to break through. “Yesterday was Saturday, but ’twas not the Saturday you sprained your leg. A week ago Saturday that was, lad, and ye’ve lain here in a fever, out of your head, ever since. Do you mind naught of the whole week?” Toppy looked up at Campbell in silence for a long time. “Scotty, if you have to play jokes——” “Jokes!” spluttered Campbell, aghast. “Losh, mon! Didna I tell ye ’twas the Sabbath? No, ’tis no joke, I assure you. You did more than sprain your ankle when ye tripped that Saturday. You collapsed completely. Lad, you were in poor condition when you came to camp, and had I known it I would not have broken you in so hard. But you’re a good man, lad; the best man I ever saw, if you keep in condition. And do you really feel good again?” “Why, I feel like a new man,” said Toppy. “I feel as if I’d had a course of baths at Hot Springs.” Campbell nodded.