“It’s rather rough making you come out here to see me off,” he said, with a not unmusical laugh that was very infectious, “but Ned there, who carried me downstairs, wanted to tote me round the house in his arms like a baby to say ta-ta to you all.  Excuse my not rising, but I feel as uncertain below as a mermaid, and as out of my element,” he added, with a mischievous glance at his friend.  “Ned concluded I must go on.  But I must say good-by to the old lady first.  Ah! here she is.”

To Kate’s complete bewilderment, not only did the utter familiarity of this speech, pass unnoticed and unrebuked by her sister, but actually her own mother advanced quickly with every expression of lively sympathy, and with the authority of her years and an almost maternal anxiety endeavored to dissuade the invalid from going.  “This is not my house,” she said, looking at her daughter, “but if it were I should not hear of your leaving, not only to-night, but until you were out of danger.  Josephine!  Kate!  What are you thinking of to permit it?  Well, then I forbid it—­there!”

Had they become suddenly insane, or were they bewitched by this morose intruder and his insufferably familiar confidant?  The man was wounded, it was true; they might have to put him up in common humanity; but here was her austere mother, who wouldn’t come in the room when Whisky Dick called on business, actually pressing both of the invalid’s hands, while her sister, who never extended a finger to the ordinary visiting humanity of the neighborhood, looked on with evident complacency.

The wounded man suddenly raised Mrs. Scott’s hand to his lips, kissed it gently, and, with his smile quite vanished, endeavored to rise to his feet.  “It’s of no use—­we must go.  Give me your arm, Ned.  Quick!  Are the horses there?”

“Dear me,” said Mrs. Scott quickly.  “I forgot to say the horse cannot be found anywhere.  Manuel must have taken him this morning to look up the stock.  But he will be back to-night certainly, and if to-morrow—­”

The wounded man sank back to a sitting position.  “Is Manuel your man?” he asked grimly.

“Yes.”

The two men exchanged glances.

“Marked on his left cheek and drinks a good deal?”

“Yes,” said Kate, finding her voice.  “Why?”

The amused look came back to the man’s eyes.  “That kind of man isn’t safe to wait for.  We must take our own horse, Ned.  Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

The wounded man again attempted to rise.  He fell back, but this time quite heavily.  He had fainted.

Involuntarily and simultaneously the three women rushed to his side.  “He cannot go,” said Kate suddenly.

“He will be better in a moment.”

“But only for a moment.  Will nothing induce you to change your mind?”

As if in reply a sudden gust of wind brought a volley of rain against the window.

“That will,” said the stranger bitterly.