"If you please, sir," he panted, "Mr. Bryant sent me to find Peter Strong! Young Jackson has been hurt. He slipped on the wet floor and the wheel of a heavy truck went over his ankle. Jackson says it is only a sprain, but Mr. Bryant thinks the bones are broken. They've telephoned for a doctor. Jackson is lying on the floor awful white and still, and he says he wants Peter Strong. Mr. Bryant told me to tell you to send him right away." Peter needed no second bidding. Down the stairs he flew. Only yesterday he had longed for a chance to prove his friendship for Nat. Now, all unsolicited, the opportunity had come. [Illustration] CHAPTER VI TWO PETERS AND WHICH WON Aflutter with anxiety, Peter followed the messenger back to the beamhouse. Of all people why should this calamity come to Jackson? In addition to the suffering that must of necessity accompany such a disaster Peter reflected, as he went along, that Nat could ill afford to lose his wages and incur the expense of doctor's bills. Poor Nat! It seemed as if he had none of the good luck he deserved--only disappointment and misfortune. Peter found his chum stretched on the floor in a dark little entry adjoining the workroom, with Bryant keeping guard. "I am down and out this time, no mistake, Pete!" called Nat with a rather dubious attempt to be cheerful. "You see what happens when you go off into another department and leave me. I was all right while you were here." Peter knelt beside him. "I'm mighty sorry, old chap," he said. "Does it hurt much?" As Jackson tried to turn, his lips whitened with pain. "Well, rather! I guess, though, I'll be all right in a few days. It's only a sprain." As Peter glanced questioningly at Bryant, who was standing in the shadow, the older man shook his head and put his finger to his lips. "Well, anyway, Nat," answered Peter, trying to feign a gaiety he did not feel, "you will at least get a vacation. I told you only the other day you needed one." "I don't need it any more than you do, Peter. Besides I can't stop work, no matter what happens. What would become of my mother, and who would pay our rent if my money stopped coming in? No sir-e-e! I shall get this foot bandaged up and be back at the tannery to-morrow. The doctor can fix it so I can keep at work, can't he, Mr. Bryant?" "I hope so, Jackson," replied Bryant, kindly. "We'll see when he comes." But the doctor was far less optimistic. He examined the ankle, pronounced it fractured, and ordered Nat to the hospital where an X-ray could be taken before the bones were set. Nat, who had endured the pain like a Spartan, burst into tears. "What will become of us--of my mother, Peter?" he moaned. "Now don't you get all fussed up, Nat," said Peter soothingly. "Leave things to me. I'll take care of your mother and attend to the house rent. I have plenty of money. You know I have been saving it up ever since I came here." "Oh, but Peter--I couldn't think of taking your money!" Nat protested.