The best surgeon in the state arrived at noon yesterday, performed the trephining at once, and having done all that skill and science could, started back on his long horseback ride. Nucky continued in the deep sleep from which he might pass into either life or death. All afternoon, and into the night, we watched in vain for signs of returning consciousness. About ten, the door opened noiselessly, and Blant and Rich stepped in out of the night. Two hours later, Nucky's head began to move from side to side, and he moaned occasionally. A little past one, he suddenly opened his eyes and looked at Blant.

"They never got you, did they?" he asked, feebly.

"Who, son?"

"Todd and Dalt; they was fixing to layway you when I fired on them."

"Is that what made you disobey orders?" inquired Blant.

"Yes. The whole bunch of Cheevers come up to the fence, and started to throw down rails; and I was just about to drap down and fetch you the word, when I heared Todd tell the rest to make all the noise they could, so's to tole you out, and him and Dalt would hide in the trees and shoot you as you passed. And then they clim the fence and made for the very spruce-pines where I was at. I knowed I couldn't get away then to warn you, so I done my best to shoot 'em."

Blant's face darkened, but his voice was gentleness itself as he said, "You done wise, son; and you certainly hit your mark, too,—they was carrying off Dalt when I got down."

Nucky sighed, deeply, happily, closing his eyes.

After a while he opened them again to say, "I allow they shot me up a little too, by these here rags on my head."

"Oh, a trifle, yes,—but none to hurt,—you wa'n't born to die by no Cheever lead."

"Gee, no," breathed Nucky, in quiet scorn.

"We brung you over here to the women, where you could get well sooner," continued Blant, in his gentle, reassuring voice; "and now since you are doing so fine, I reckon I'll leave you a spell and get along home,—the babe is punier than usual."

"Yes, I don't want you to stay here and get arrested," said Nucky; "but I don't want you to go back there neither. You keep a constant watch on Todd,—I wish it was him I had shot."

Rich and I followed Blant out. Not until we stood out in the snow did we wring one another's hands in speechless relief.

"Of course he will live now," I said.

To-day Nucky is entirely rational, though quite weak. Only the nurse sees him. Killis, Taulbee, Keats, Hosea and Joab came in for news of him to-day, returning immediately on their long walks.

Friday.

I was permitted to visit Nucky to-day. He is still forbidden to talk, but he smiled his old bright smile, and I read Pilgrim's Progress to him until he fell asleep.

Sunday Morning.

All the boys came back to school yesterday from their vacation, several with gifts for me,—a dozen eggs from the little Salyers, a fine ground-hog-hide from Joab ("it'll make you shoe-strings enough to last a lifetime," he said), a handsome hen from Taulbee, four huge sweet-potatoes from Hosea, and an elegant green glass breastpin from Geordie. Of course the one topic of conversation last night was "Trojan" and his performance, in which they take endless pride. "I allow Basil Beaumont will sure make up a song-ballad about him now," said Absalom.

They also brought the news that Dalt Cheever is probably "aiming to live",—thank heaven if it is true, for I cannot bear that Nucky's hands should be stained with human blood. Doubtless, however, it will be a keen disappointment to him.

Monday.

As I was about to leave the cottage for the hospital last night after supper, the boys were all bewailing the fact that they had not been able to stay at home over Old Christmas. I asked them what they meant by "Old Christmas."

"You brought-on women," said Taulbee, "thinks New Christmas is real Christmas; but it haint. Real Christmas comes to-morrow, on the sixth of January; and to-night is right Christmas Eve."

"What makes you think so?"

"All the old folks says so, for one thing, and they knows better than young ones; and the plants and the beasts knows better still. Tonight's the night when the elder blossoms out at midnight, and the cattle kneels down and prays,—anybody can hear 'em a-lowing and mowing if they stay awake to listen."

I have a hazy recollection of the English calendar having been changed and set forward eleven days in the middle of the eighteenth century, and of the mass of the people in England and the colonies refusing to accept the new date for Christmas. This survival in the mountain country is indeed remarkable.

I sat keeping watch beside Nucky when the clock struck midnight, and got up and went to the window to look and listen. If, in the wintry moonlight, any gaunt, bare stalks put forth miraculous blossoms above the snow, or if reverent cattle knelt and lowed loving welcome to their Lord, my eyes and ears were holden that I did not see and hear; but I know that it was Real Christmas in my heart as I turned back and saw my child breathing quietly on his bed, a faint color in his pale cheeks again.

Wednesday.

Another visit from Blant to Nucky last night. In reply to eager questions, Blant gave Nucky a very encouraging account of the state of affairs on Trigger. "Never seed things quieter," he said; "it looks like your shot had settled 'em a while. The talk now is that Dalt will likely get well, which I allow you will grieve to hear." A shade of heavy disappointment immediately fell upon Nucky's countenance. "But," continued Blant, "it is good news to me,—I don't like the notion of your having to start in killing at your age."

After we were out on the porch, Blant repeated to me, "Yes, I am proud to know the little chap haint got blood on his hands yet awhile. You may think it quare, but it really goes again' the grain with me to see a man kilt, even when he needs killing."

"Is it true," I questioned him as he stepped out into the snow, "that things are so quiet on Trigger?"

He smiled slightly. "Oh yes," he said; "quiet enough,—in fact, they are quiet as death,—not a speck of trouble in plain sight nowhere. But I got a bullet through my hat Friday night as I crossed the passage from the kitchen to t'other house, and heared another whiz nigh while I watered the nags yesterday evening. It all happens along towards dark."

"This is horrible," I said.

"Yes, it's low-down. Folks ought to fight in the open if they got any fighting to do."

"Is Richard staying with you?"

"Day and night. I allow he's setting with the babe this minute. All I'm afeared of is that they will shoot him in place of me. But we keep all the windows blanketed and chinks stopped of a night."