SETTING THE MAN TRAP AGAIN.

Jim was only too delighted to act once more as guide.

The look of fear had quite left his face, and both Max and Bandy-legs saw
that after all the poor little chap was rather a decent-looking boy.

"Say, is he agoin' tuh git well, mistah?" he asked, turning when they were
once more fairly on the way back to the trail leading to the camp.

"Sure he is, Jim," answered Max.

"But he'd 'a' gone dead on'y for you uns comin' tuh help. Reckon as how we
orter be kinder 'bleeged fur doin' this away," went on the boy, awkwardly
trying to prove that he knew what gratitude meant.

"That's all right, Jim," Max smilingly said. "Perhaps he wouldn't have
died on account of his broken leg, but he'd never walked again without a
limp. But look here, don't you say another word about it, Jim."

"But--"

"Because," Max went on, quickly, "it's been a pleasure to me to attend your
dad. I'm wanting to be a surgeon some day, and every little bit of practice
helps. Now, if you don't mind, we'd like to know something about you, Jim.
Where'd you come from? I never saw you or your father around Carson, which
is the name of the town where my chum here and myself live."

The boy actually turned red in the face. His confusion told the sharp-eyed
Max that there must be some sort of unpleasant story connected with the