"His ankle is hurt, too," said Joe.

"Never mind the ankle just now, Joe," was the soft answer.

There was something in the tone that alarmed the boy and he caught the
physician by the arm.

"Doctor, tell me the truth!" he cried. "Is he is he going to die?"

"I am afraid so, my lad. His ribs are crushed and one of them has stuck
into his right lung."

At these words the tears sprang into the boy's eyes and it was all he
could do to keep from crying outright. Even though the old hermit had
been rough in his ways, Joe thought a good deal of the man.

"Cannot you do something, doctor," he pleaded.

"Not here. We might do something in a hospital, but he would not survive
the journey. He is growing weaker every moment. Be brave, my lad. It is
a terrible trial, I know, but you must remember that all things are for
the best."

Joe knelt beside the sufferer and took hold of his hand. Hiram Bodley
looked at him and then at the doctor.

"I--I can't live--I know it," he said hoarsely. "Joe, stay by me till I
die, won't you?"

"Yes!" faltered the boy. "Oh, this is awful!"