These and his microscope and his surgical instruments had been brought him on a mule team by Jerry Carew, who did his “toting” for him, fetching all he needed for work or comfort, in this way, from the nearest station where goods could be sent until the hotel opened in the early summer. Not that he needed them, but that, as an artist loves to keep a supply of paints and canvas, or a writer — even when idle — is happier to know that he has at hand plenty of pens and blank paper, he liked to have them.

Thus far he had felt no more need of his books than he had for his surgical instruments, but now he was glad he had them for the sake of the girl who was “that sot on all such.” He would open the box the moment he had eaten, and look them over. The little brother should take them down to her