guard at the back-door.

"How's Rod to-day, cap'n?" he asked.

"No better," was the gruff reply. "Had a bad night."

"I'm real sorry, cap'n, I surely am," Tom blubbered. "To think that he
did it all fer my Sammy."

"How is yer kid?" the captain questioned.

"He's better, thank the Lord. The doctor got there jist in time. But
fer you and Rod he'd be dead now."

"Cut that out, Tom. I'm not used to sich stuff."

"But I can't help it, cap'n," the visitor sniffled. "I can't sleep at
nights fer thinkin' of it all. I shan't fergit it in a hurry, oh, no."

"Big fool," the captain muttered to himself as he watched Tom shuffle
away. "It takes a mighty hard blow to knock any sense into a head sich
as his."

As the days passed, Rod became more restless, and kept calling for Anna
Royanna. It was hard for the anxious watchers to listen to his piteous
pleadings. The doctor's face grew grave during one of his frequent
visits as he watched the raving boy.

"Do you suppose she'd come?" he asked Parson Dan, who had followed him
into the room.