Richard did not notice him at all. He hustled by him roughly and
approached the other two young men. "Louis can't fiddle to-night," he
announced, curtly. The young men stared at him in dismay.

"What's the trouble?" asked Burr.

"He's hurt his arm," replied Richard; but he still addressed the
other two, and made as if he were not answering Burr.

"Broke it?" asked one of the others.

"No; sprained it. He was clearing the snow off the barn roof and the
ladder fell. It's all black-and-blue, and he can't lift it enough to
fiddle to-night."

The three young men looked at each other.

"What's going to be done?" said one.

"I don't know," said Burr. "There's Davy Barrett, over to the Four
Corners--I suppose we might get him if we sent right over."

"You can't get him," said Richard Hautville, still addressing the
other two, as if they had spoken. "Louis said you couldn't. His
wife's got the typhus-fever, and he's up nights watching with
her--won't let anybody else. You can't get him."

"We can't have a ball without a fiddler," one young man said,
soberly.