"Huh! Why you no come one hour ago? All time 'Hullo, hullo'! Je' Cli'! me
no dam felly-man--me dam cook! Too much man say 'Hullo'!"

The prospect was not good for help at the Ferry inn, so, putting his trust
in Polly and the Springs, Leander pushed on up the valley.

When Aunt Polly's patients were of the right sort, they stayed on after
their recovery and helped Leander with the ranch work. But for the most
part they "hit the trail" again as soon as their ills were healed, not
forgetting to advertise the Springs to other patients of their own class.
The only limit to this unenviable popularity was the size of the house.
Leander saw no present advantage in building.

But in case they ever did build--and the time was surely coming!--here was
the very person they had been looking for. Cast your bread upon the
waters. The winter's bread and care and shelter so ungrudgingly bestowed
had returned to them many-fold in the comfortable sense of dependence and
unity they felt in this last beneficiary, the old man of Indian Creek whom
they called "Uncle John."

"The kindest old creetur' ever lived! Some forgitful, but everybody's
liable to forgit. Only tell him one thing at once, and don't confuse him,
and he'll git through an amazin' sight of chores in a day."

"Just the very one we'll want to wait on the men patients," Aunt Polly
chimed in. "He can carry up meals and keep the bathrooms clean, and wash
out the towels, and he's the best hand with poultry. He takes such good
care of the old hens they're re'lly ashamed not to lay!"

It was spring again; old hopes were putting forth new leaves. Leander had