"As real as that bedpost. And mighty glad to see you, my dear boy. They
tell me the worst is over, and that you're improving. That's worth the
journey to see."
"You didn't come from--England?"
"Of course I did. I'd come from the end of the world, and you know it!
Why in the name of friendship didn't somebody send me word before?"
"Who sent it now?"
"That's a secret. I hoped to be able to do something for you, Red, just
to even up the score a little, but the thing that's really been done has
been by yourself. You put your own clean blood into this tussle and it's
brought you through."
"I don't feel so very far through yet, but I suppose I'm not quite so
much of a dead fish as I was a week ago. There's only one thing that
bothers me."
"I can guess. Well, Red, I saw Doctor Van Horn on my way upstairs, and
he tells me you're going to get a good hand out of this. He'll be up
shortly to dress it, and then I may see for myself."
"That will be a comfort. I've wished a thousand times you might, though
nobody could have given me better care than these bully fellows have.
But I've a sort of superstition that one look at trouble from Jack
Leaver is enough to make it cut and run."
By and by Dr. John Leaver came downstairs and joined his wife and Ellen.
His face was grave with its habitual expression, but it lighted as the
two looked up. "He's had about as rough a time as a man can and weather
it," he said; "but I think the trouble is cornered at last, and there'll
be no further outbreak.
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