When
this was done, Na-che put on the coffee pot, while Diana served each of
them with a plate of hot rabbit stew.
"Don't try to talk," she said, "until you get this down. You'd better
help Mr. Milton, Na-che. Here, it will take two of us. Oh, you poor
dear! You're burning with fever."
"Don't you worry about me," protested Milton, weakly, as, with his head
resting on Diana's arm, he sipped the teaspoonsful of stew Na-che fed
him. "This is as near heaven as I want to get."
"I should hope so!" grunted Agnew. "Jonas, don't ever try to put up a
stew in competition with Na-che again."
"Not me, sir!" chuckled Jonas. "That gal can sure cook!"
"And make charms," added Enoch. "Don't fail to realize that you're
still alive, Jonas."
"I'm going to bathe Mr. Milton's face for him," said Na-che, with a
fine air of indifference. "I can set a broken leg, too."
"It's set," said Agnew and Enoch together, "but," added Enoch, "that
isn't saying that Milton mustn't be gotten to a doctor with all speed."
Diana nodded. "Where are Mr. Forrester and Mr. Harden?" she asked.
"We lost the Na-che--" said Agnew.
"The what?" demanded Diana.
"Jonas rechristened the Mary, the Na-che," Agnew replied. "We lost her
in a whirlpool six days back.
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