Whether it was that the fact that Pete Jones had got consid’able shuck up demoralized his followers, or whether it was that the old man’s flight was suspected, the mob did not turn out in very great force, and the tarring was postponed indefinitely, for by the time they came together it became known somehow that the man with a wooden leg had outrun them all.  But the escape of one devoted victim did not mollify the feelings of the people toward the next one.

By the time Bud returned his arm was very painful, and the next day he went under Dr. Small’s treatment to reduce the fracture.  Whatever suspicions Bud might have of Pete Jones, he was not afflicted with Ralph’s dread of the silent young doctor.  And if there was anything Small admired it was physical strength and courage.  Small wanted Bud on his side, and least of all did he want him to be Ralph’s champion.  So that the silent, cool, and skillful doctor went to work to make an impression on Bud Means.

Other influences were at work upon him also.  Mrs. Means volleyed and thundered in her usual style about his “takin’ up with a one-legged thief, and runnin’ arter that master that was a mighty suspicious kind of a customer, akordin’ to her tell.  She’d allers said so.  Ef she’d a been consulted he wouldn’t a been hired.  He warn’t fit company fer nobody.”

And old Jack Means ’lowed Bud must want to have their barns burnt like some other folkses had been.  Fer his part, he had sense enough to know they was some people as it wouldn’t do to set a body’s self agin.  And as fer him, he didn’t butt his brains out agin a buckeye-tree.  Not when he was sober.  And so they managed, during Bud’s confinement to the house, to keep him well supplied with all the ordinary discomforts of life.

But one visit from Martha Hawkins, ten words of kindly inquiry from her, and the remark that his broken arm reminded her of something she had seen at the East and something somebody said the time she was to Bosting, were enough to repay the champion a thousand fold for all that he suffered.  Indeed, that visit, and the recollection of Ralph’s saying that Jesus Christ was a sort of a Flat Creeker himself, were manna in the wilderness to Bud.

Poor Shocky was sick.  The excitement had been too much for him, and though his fever was very slight it was enough to produce just a little delirium.  Either Ralph or Miss Martha was generally at the cabin.

“They’re coming,” said Shocky to Ralph, “they’re coming.  Pete Jones is a-going to bind me out for a hundred years.  I wish Hanner would hold me so’s he couldn’t.  God’s forgot all about us here in Flat Creek, and there’s nobody to help it.”

And he shivered at every sudden sound.  He was never free from this delirious fright except when the master held him tight in his arms.  He staggered around the floor, the very shadow of Shocky, and was so terrified by the approach of darkness that Ralph staid in the cabin on Wednesday night and Miss Hawkins staid on Thursday night.  On Friday, Bud sent a note to Ralph, askin him to come and see him.