it close, so close that it will look like the shaven face of a man. I
think you will find it so stated in the conditions if you will look at
the permit approved in his own handwriting by Colonel Sandoval y
Dominguez."

Joaquin Menendez, still the artist, but obedient to the law, heaved a
deep sigh, and proceeded with his sad task. Lock by lock the abundant
hair fell, until Ned's head stood forth in the shaven likeness of a
man's face that he had wished.

"I must tell you," said Mr. Austin, "that it does not become you, but I
hope you are satisfied."

"I am satisfied," replied Ned. "I have every cause to be. I know I shall
have a stronger appetite to-morrow."

"You are certainly a sensitive boy," said Mr. Austin, looking at him in
some wonder. "I did not know that such a thing could influence your
feelings and your physical condition so much."

Ned made no reply, but that night he ate supper with a much better
appetite than he had shown in many days, bringing words of warm approval
and encouragement from Mr. Austin.

An hour or two later, when cheerful good-nights had been exchanged, Ned
withdrew to his own little room. He lay down upon his bed, but he was
fully clothed and he had no intention of sleep. Instead the boy was
transformed. For days he had been walking with a weak and lagging gait.
Fever was in his veins. Sometimes he became dizzy, and the walls and
floors of the prison swam before him. But now the spirit had taken