The soul of a dog is simple in its measurement of blessings, and to Peter it was a great happiness to lie here, broken and in pain, with the face of his beloved mistress over him and Jolly Roger's hands working to mend his hurt.

He whimpered when Jolly Roger found the broken place, and he cried out like a little child when there came the sudden quick snapping of a bone--but even then he turned his head so that he could thrust out his hot tongue against the back of his man-friend's hand.

And Jolly Roger, as he worked, was giving instructions to the girl, who was quick as a bird to bring him cloth which she tore into bandages, so that at the end of ten minutes Peter's right hind leg was trussed up so tightly that it was as stiff and as useless as a piece of wood.
"His hip was dislocated and his leg-bone broken," said Jolly Roger when he had finished.

"He is all right now, and inside of three weeks will be on his feet again." He lifted Peter gently, and made him a nest among the blankets in his bunk.

And then, still with that strange, gray look in his face, he turned to Nada.
She was standing partly facing the door, her eyes straight on him.