CHAPTER SIXTEEN.-The Skating Party.

HEN Doctor Lants finally arrived there was nothing for him to do. He examined the Colonel and expressed the opinion that he would survive, although he was still under severe shock. The only examination he gave Charles was a close scrutiny of the hurriedlycontrived apparatus to hold the leg in place.

"You've done some mighty fine work, Doctor," he said to Fred. "There isn't a man in a hundred who would have attempted such a task alone."

"I wasn't alone," declared Fred. "Miss Everett did her full share of the burden. If it hadn't been for her, I don't know what I would have done."

"Nevertheless, that does not detract from your heroic acts," growled the old doctor from Oliva. "The fact

that you had the ability to select and utilize unskilled help adds to your glory. I'm sorry I could find no nurse at this time of night-I guess they're all celebrating." He spoke to Justina: "If you can stay until morning, I'll send somebody down."

"I'll stay tonight myself," said Fred. "You come back tomorrow and bring a nurse with you."

Doctor Lants shook his head. "It's not necessary for me to come any more. You can do all that's necessary; that's plainly evident to everybody now, after this work."

any attention to her, for she doesn't understand. Take care of him-please."

That final "please" said so earnestly; her wonderful eyes, looking at him so appealingly; the two combined almost decided him to do as she asked, but the remembrance of past treatment from the Colonel, and Justina, too, as well as Mrs. Darl's recent outburst, caused him to feel a lothness, a longing to get away and stay away from the Colonel and his entire household. Consequently, he turned to Justina and spoke rather sharply: "No; I'm sorry if you wish me to stay, but I feel that it's impossible."

Thus it came to pass that Fred Forson stepped from the house of Henry Bean on the morrow, not to return while the Colonel was an occupant thereof. The nurse from Oliva instituted herself permanently, and Justina spent every day at the bedside, dividing her attention between the Colonel who was exceedingly cranky, and

Charles who wished nothing but plenty of cigarettes and books. As the two patients occupied the only beds in the house, Mrs. Darl sent two bedsteads and bedding— one for the nurse and one for Henry and Julia. Justina slept at home, only spending her days at the Bean homestead. The Colonel's brother arrived the next morning and added much cheer to the otherwise dull and monotonous days, for he was of an entirely different type from the sour and dignified Colonel-younger, happier, ever jokative. Both patients made an uneventful recovery,

Fred held up his hand. "Don't try to argue with me," he commanded. "As I said, I'll stay tonight, because it's my duty, but tomorrow must see a nurse on the case and you in charge. That's final."

Justina, who had been silently listening, came to where they were standing and spoke to Fred: "I'm sure Uncle John would want you to continue if he knew what you had done and Aunt Rena, too. You mustn't pay

confined to the house much longer than the Colonel, because of the more retarded repair always associated with bone injuries.

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On the next day after the operation Fred was interviewed by a representative of the Associated Press who had heard about the case and was running short of material, and within the following two days his feat of surgery was known to the world. The papers of the state featured him prominently with flashy headlines and accompanied it with his photograph, while those in more distant parts gave enough space for a short paragraph.

And the fickleness of human nature was soon shown, for, in less than a week, people from far and near were clamoring for his services, and his practice was becoming so heavy that it was as much as he could do. The winter season was on, and, as usual, sickness was heavy.

moon was bright and the reflection from the snow, which covered the vast river and shore and the bluffs beyond, made it almost as light as though the setting sun was still throwing its rays over the earth, although the light was sharper and cast a clear-cut shadow.

The temperature had somewhat abated, but yet the air was cold and one must keep moving to maintain a comfortable degree of warmth, and even then one's fingers and toes would get cold, but the big bonfires on the bank of the stream sufficed to thaw them out when the tingling sensation became unbearable. These fires-three of them were constantly surrounded by groups of happy,

"No, tomorrow night—that is, I think so." He turned toward the kitchen where Mrs. Ganey was busy turning hot cakes. "O Alice, isn't tomorrow the twenty-fifth?" "Wait a minute and I'll see," came the answer-then after a moment: "No; today's the twenty-fifth."

"Then it's tonight," chuckled Tom. "I suppose I'm getting old and forgetful, for I set the date myself, and I'd swore it was tomorrow night. But what's the difference? They cleaned the snow off the ice yesterday and tested it good, and it certainly hasn't thawed any since, nor won't today-it's below zero now."

"It's nice and moonlight, too," said Fred. "I could have run the car without lights last night."

Mrs. Ganey came in with a heaping plate of hot, steaming cakes.

"We're going," said Tom, winking at Fred and apparently not noticing his wife. "That is, if I can find a pair of skates in the store big enough for Alice." "Indeed and we're not," came the quick answer from Mrs. Ganey. "I never had a pair of skates on in my life, and you know it."

Tom speared three cakes with his fork. "That's right," he said, "but I'd forgotten it. You're a pretty old bird to teach new tricks to, but I'll be tient with you and you can tie several pillows around your waist-they'll protect you."

"Tom Ganey, I'm ashamed of you!"

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sons who would snatch time to get half warm and go sailing again among the whirling figures on the ice, singly and in pairs and sometimes three or four together.

"Oh, there's Doctor Forson!" cried Virginia Doron, spying Fred as he came down the steep bank. "Come on, Doctor; let's see if you can skate as well as you can dance."

"I haven't any skates," said Fred, glad of the chance for an excuse, for he had never worn skates since he was a small boy, when he used to go skating on the Skulkill River.

"Here's some,' came a shout, repeated twice in different tones and at the same time three pairs of skates were offered to him.

He laughingly took a pair and sat down on a log. "I'll try them," he said, "but somebody will have to help adjust them—it's been so long since I've seen a skate that I don't know how they work."

"I'll fix them up," said Tom Ganey. "I've got to have some fun with somebody, for Alice won't go on the ice, so I think I'll enjoy seeing you tumble around a while."

He knelt down and soon had the steel runners adjusted. "There!" he cried, stepping dramatically aside as if some great achievement had been accomplished, "do your worst."

Fred stepped onto the ice and took a whirl around a small circle, very carefully.

"By George!" snorted the storekeeper in disgusting tones. "You skate like a cow. You'll never fall at that rate. Get a little speed up."

The onlookers laughed and Fred tried it again; a little more reckless but still guardedly. The storekeeper threw up both hands repugnantly. "Great jumping June bugs!" he exclaimed. "Here-watch me do it." Wherewith he jumped onto the ice, lost his balance and started