“Guess I’ll let you woo the balmy,” he said, as he rose and smoothed down his trousers. “Hope you’ll feel rippin’ in the mornin’. ’By.”
The pain of his burns kept Joe restless a good part of the night, and it was nearly morning before he fell into a heavy sleep from which Jim refused to rouse him, so that it was nearly nine o’clock before he opened his eyes.
He wondered drowsily why he woke with such a feeling of oppression instead of the usual light-heartedness with which he welcomed the day. Then he remembered.
His arm! That arm which meant so much to him!
He raised it, flexed it.
A thrill of delight ran through him as he realized that he did this without pain. The soreness of the night before had gone. Apart from a little tenderness, it felt almost as good as ever.
He sprang from his bed with a whoop, bathed, shaved, dressed, and went down the stairs to the dining room three steps at a time with a light in his eyes and a whistle on his lips.
McRae and Robbie were waiting for him with two professional looking men, and the gloom on their faces lightened as they noted his joyous mien.
“How are you feeling, Joe?” asked McRae eagerly.