He was dull and listless, bony of hand, and liable to sleep many hours through the very heart of the day.

At this point of his recovery the door opened one day, and, in the warmth of the afternoon, a big man came into the room, shutting the door softly behind him.
Bull turned his head slowly and then blinked, for it was the unshaven face of his cousin, Harry Campbell, that he saw.

With his eyes closed, Bull wondered why that face was so distinctly unpleasant.

When he opened them again, Harry had drawn closer, his hat pushed on the back of his head after the manner of a baffled man, and a faint smile working at the corners of his lips.

He took the limp hand of Bull in his and squeezed it cautiously.