"I'm starving!" "Bread, meat, coffee, anything that is on the table, Nap," said his master; "and don't let the grass grow under your feet." Then to the stranger, and taking gentle hold of the wounded limb: "But you need this flow of blood stanched more than anything else.

You came to me for surgical aid, of course.

Pistol-shot wound, eh?
and a bad one at that." "Yes, I----" "Never mind; I'll hear your story after your arm's dressed and you've had your breakfast.

You haven't strength for talk just now." Dr.Balis had his own suspicions as he ripped up the coat sleeve, bared the swollen limb, and carefully dressed the wound; but kept them to himself.

The stranger's clothes, though much soiled and torn in several places by contact with thorns and briers, were of good material, fashionable cut, and not old or worn; his manners were gentlemanly, and his speech was that of an educated man.