Joy is the best of all medicines, and Allan’s improvement was rapid. At the end of a week he could spend hours lying back in a padded chair, and Jack was finally prevailed upon to go regularly to work and leave the care of the invalid to his wife.
It was on the platform before the station that the superintendent stopped him one evening, as he was hurrying home from work.
“How are things out on the line?” he asked.
“All right, sir.”
“Going to win the track prize again this spring?”
“No, sir,” and Jack grew suddenly grave. “One of my best men is laid up, y’ know.”
“Ah, yes,” and the superintendent nodded. “How is the boy getting along, Jack?”
“He’ll pull through,” said the other, slowly, “but he had a mighty close call. If th’ bullet hadn’t struck a rib an’ glanced off, he’d ’a’ been done fer. I went down t’ look at th’ place he got acrost th’ ravine, an’ I don’t see how he done it.”
“Neither do I,” agreed the superintendent. “I took a look at it, too.”
“Well,” continued Jack, “th’ fever’s over now, an’ he’s gittin’ his strength back.”