“Not much of a one.  It doesn’t take extraordinary powers of penetration to guess that a flame applied to a bundle of kindling will cause a fire.  And when you keep piling on the fuel something’s likely to get burned.”

“Did I pile on the fuel?”

“You sure did.  If there had been gunpowder under the kindling you could have expected an explosion—­and a wreck.”

“There’s no wreck.”

“No?  I thought there might be—­somewhere.”

King spoke quickly.  “Do you think I carried it too far?”

“I think you carried it some distance—­for an invalid’s diversion.”

The young man flushed hotly.  “I was genuinely interested and I saw no harm.  If there’s any harm done it’s to myself, and I can stand that.  I’m not conceited enough to imagine that a broken-backed cripple could make any lasting impression.”

Burns turned and surveyed his companion with some amusement.  “Do you consider that a description of yourself?”

“I certainly do.”  Jordan King’s strong young jaw took on a grim expression.

“Know this then”—­Burns spoke deliberately—­“there’s not a sane girl who liked you well enough before your accident to marry you who wouldn’t marry you now.”

“That’s absurd.  Women want men, not cripples.”

“You’re no cripple.  Stop using that term.”

“What else?  A man condemned to wear a plaster jacket for at least a year.”  King evidently did his best not to speak bitterly.

“Bosh!  Suppose the same thing happened to me.  Would you look on me askance for the rest of my days, no matter what man’s job I kept on tackling?  Besides, the plaster jacket’s only a precaution.  You wouldn’t disintegrate without it.”

King looked at Red Pepper Burns and smiled in spite of himself.  “I’m glad to hear that, I’m sure.  As for looking at you askance—­you are you, R.P.  Burns.”

“Apply the same logic to yourself.  You are you, and will continue to be you, plus some assets you haven’t had occasion to acquire before in the way of dogged endurance, control of mind, and such-like qualities, bred of need for them.  You will be more to us all than you ever were, and that’s saying something.  And the back’s going to be a perfectly good back; give it time.  As for—­if you don’t mind my saying it—­that invalid’s diversion, I don’t suppose it’s hurt you any.  What I’m concerned for is the hurt it may have done somebody else.  I don’t need to tell you that it wasn’t possible for Ellen and me to have that little girl on our hearts all that time and not get mightily interested in her.  She’s the real thing, too, we’re convinced, and we care a good deal what happens to her next.”

Jordan King drew a deep breath.  “So do I.”

Burns gave him a quick look.  “That’s good.  But you let her go away without making sure of keeping any hold on her.  You don’t know where she is now.”

King shot him a return look.  “That wasn’t my fault.  That was hard luck.”