“You can bank on it that I will! Now go to sleep!” “One thing more, Art!” “Yes?” Artie, approaching the bunk, saw Westy’s face wreathed in smiles and his hand extended. He clasped it, and with a look that told more than words could ever tell, he turned and walked out of the cabin. With lantern in hand, Artie descended into the gulley walking along cautiously, anxiously looking for some sign or footprint of Uncle Jeb. Coming to the spot where Westy had left him, he found him lying there, burning with fever and delirious. How he ever succeeded in getting Uncle Jeb back to the cabin, Artie could never quite say. It was nothing more than superhuman effort that came to his aid in getting the sick man up out of the gulley without adding to his discomfort any more than he could help. Dawn was just beginning to tinge the far horizon with little flecks of light, when Artie half-carried, half-dragged Uncle Jeb into the cabin and laid him in his bunk. Westy had not awakened, and his quiet, steady breathing bespoke the fact that his slumber was unbroken and nature had once more reasserted itself. Though his body was utterly weary and his eyes felt weighted down with want of sleep, Artie kept constant vigil by Uncle Jeb’s side. He bathed his swollen foot at intervals until the swelling began to gradually diminish. The hole in his head was what worried Artie most, and he figured that Uncle Jeb, after catching his foot in the bear trap under the elm tree, probably tried with much exertion, to extricate it from the vise that held it, and in his excitement had stepped back further than he was aware. In his fall into the gulley he must have struck his head on a sharp rock. The only thing to do was to keep the wound clean and wait until Westy had awakened. Then, he could go to the Inn and get the doctor who was stopping there now. About nine o’clock Westy awoke, refreshed and better. He wanted to go to the Inn himself, seeing the haggard, drawn look on Artie’s face, but the tired boy wouldn’t hear of it, so he did as he was told and took up the vigil. When Artie returned from the Inn that afternoon with the doctor, he looked as if he needed medical attention himself and that learned person told him so. But he assured him that sleep was all that he required. Uncle Jeb was in a delirious state again, as they entered, and his temperature had mounted considerably, so the doctor lost no time in caring for him. After a while when the fever had subsided somewhat and the sick man had lapsed into a heavy sleep, the doctor turned to attend to Westy’s wants. Going about his task he marveled at the courage the boy possessed to have done a thing like that.