was seeking help. This, however, was speedily dissipated, for he saw "Tom
Jones" raise himself on one arm and stare hard at them.

Fear was in those burning dark eyes, such fear as might be shown by a
fugitive from justice, one who believed every honest man's hand was
raised against him.

But Max would not allow himself to even think of this. The poor fellow was
in trouble; he needed help the worst kind, and it was no business of theirs
to ask questions.

"We've come to see if we can help you, Mr. Jones," he remarked, in his
customary cheery tone, as he bent over the injured man.

"Jim got yuh, did he?" muttered the other. "Knowed 'twar the on'y thing tuh
be did, no matter wat follered."

"Make your mind easy, because there's nothing going to follow. Now, it
happens that even if I am only a boy, I've always had an itching to be a
surgeon some day. So I know a little about setting broken bones. I'm going
to play doctor, if you'll let me, Mr. Jones."

As Max said this he stripped off his coat. The boy watched him in awe,
while the man showed signs of newly awakened hope.

For quite some time Max examined his patient, even turning the man over so
that he could test his ribs thoroughly.

"Now I'm going to set that leg the best I can, with splints to hold it.
After all it's a simple fracture a little way above the ankle. Those black