we saw Slavin's heels in the air as he fell back upon his neck and
shoulders and lay still, with his toes quivering.

'Bon!' yelled Baptiste. 'Bully boy! Dat's de bon stuff. Dat's larn him
one good lesson.' But immediately he shrieked, Gar-r-r-r-e a vous!'

He was too late, for there was a crash of breaking glass, and Graeme
fell to the floor with a long deep cut on the side of his head. Keefe
had hurled a bottle with all too sure an aim, and had fled. I thought
he was dead; but we carried him out, and in a few minutes he groaned,
opened his eyes, and sank again into insensibility.

'Where can we take him?' I cried.

'To my shack,' said Mr. Craig.

'Is there no place nearer?'

'Yes; Mrs. Mavor's. I shall run on to tell her.'

She met us at the door. I had in mind to say some words of apology, but
when I looked upon her face I forgot my words, forgot my business at her
door, and stood simply looking.

'Come in! Bring him in! Please do not wait,' she said, and her voice was
sweet and soft and firm.

We laid him in a large room at the back of the shop over which Mrs.
Mavor lived. Together we dressed the wound, her firm white fingers,
skilful as if with long training. Before the dressing was finished