Anderson promised the town board that he would not take them until the jail was repaired.
It was almost a fortnight before Wicker Bonner was able to walk about with crutches.

The wound in his leg was an ugly one and healed slowly.
His uncle, the Congressman, sent up a surgeon from New York, but that worthy approved of "Doc" Smith's methods, and abruptly left the young man to the care of an excellent nurse, Rosalie Gray.

Congressman Bonner's servants came over every day or two with books, newspapers, sweetmeats, and fresh supplies from the city, but it was impossible for them to get any satisfaction from the young man in reply to their inquiries as to when he expected to return to the big house across the river.

Bonner was beginning to hate the thought of giving up Rosalie's readings, her ministrations, and the no uncertain development of his own opinions as to her personal attractiveness.
"I don't know when I'll be able to walk, Watkins," he said to the caretaker.

"I'm afraid my heart is affected." Bonner's enforced presence at Anderson Crow's home was the source of extreme annoyance to the young men of the town.