A "DIFFERENT GIRL" Ferguson had no means of knowing how long he was unconscious, but when he awoke the sun had gone down and the darkening shadows had stolen into the clearing near the cabin.

He still sat in the chair on the porch.

He tried to lift his injured foot and found to his surprise that some weight seemed to be on it.

He struggled to an erect position, looking down.

His foot had been bandaged, and the weight that he had thought was upon it was not a weight at all, but the hands of a young woman.
She sat on the porch floor, the injured foot in her lap, and she had just finished bandaging it.