The doctor had spoken truly.

The hero of this miserable affair was HER cousin--HIS RIVAL! And to him--perhaps influenced by some pitying appeal of Miss Sally for the man she had deceived--Courtland owed his life! He instinctively drew a quick, sharp breath.
"Are you in pain ?" "Not at all.

When can I get up ?" "Perhaps to-morrow." "And this arm ?" "Better not use it for a week or two." He stopped, and, glancing paternally at the younger man, added gravely but kindly: "If you'll take my unprofessional advice, Colonel Courtland, you'll let this matter simmer down.

It won't hurt you and your affairs here that folks have had a taste of your quality, and the nigger a lesson that his fellows won't forget." "I thank you," returned Courtland coldly; "but I think I already understand my duty to the company I represent and the Government I have served." "Possibly, colonel," said the doctor quietly; "but you'll let an older man remind you and the Government that you can't change the habits or relations of two distinct races in a few years.

Your friend, Miss Sally Dows--although not quite in my way of thinking--has never attempted THAT." "I am fully aware that Miss Dows possesses diplomatic accomplishments and graces that I cannot lay claim to," returned Courtland bitterly.
The doctor lifted his eyebrows slightly and changed the subject.
When he had gone, Courtland called for writing materials.