I've got the wound dressed.—Say, if you women don't keep quiet, I'll sure-gawd hang up. O, hello, Charleton! Yes, Scott made a clean get-away.—Now, listen, Mary. I'm going to keep Judith here to-night to help me and you can come down to-morrow.—Yes, that you, John? Well, you come along now, but not Mary. She's too weepy.—What's that you say, Inez? The sheriff and Jimmy gone out after Scott? When did they start—Hello, Mrs. Day. Half an hour ago? That's good. Now, listen, John. You stop by here before you go crazy. Understand me? All right! Good-night, everybody!"
He turned from the telephone with a wry smile. "John's coming down."
"He's been worse than a wolverine since Doug left," said Judith.
"How do you and he get along?" asked Peter, sitting down to his belated supper.
"O, I patch along for Mother's sake. But it's no way to live! I don't see what Dad gets out of his own ugliness."
"You'd probably find out, if he'd tell you the truth, that John doesn't consider himself ugly-tempered. He'd admit he was firm and misunderstood and unappreciated." Peter smiled grimly.
Judith laughed. "Well, thank heaven John doesn't belong to me, and I don't belong to him!" She sipped a cup of coffee slowly, her eyes on Douglas in his uneasy sleep.
He was still asleep when John came in. He nodded to Peter then strode over to the bed, where he stood for a moment scowling down at his son, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Douglas opened his eyes.
"Douglas," said John hoarsely, "before I go out after
