For three days he improved steadily, and then, after
standing still for another day slipped back inch by inch to weakness and
prostration, until the homestead, without coercion, was the only chance
for his life.
But there was a woman there; and as the mate went back to his pleading
the woman did what the world may consider a strange thing--but a man's
life depended on it--she sent a message out to the sick man, to say that
if he would come to the homestead she would not go to him until he asked
her.
He pondered over the message for a day, sceptical of a woman's word--
surely some woman had left that legacy in his heart--but eventually
decided he wouldn't risk it. Then the chief of the telegraph coming
in--a man widely experienced in fever--and urging one more attempt, the
Dandy volunteered to help us in our extremity, and, driving across to the
Warlochs in the chief's buggy worked one of his miracles; he spent only a
few minutes alone with the man (and the Dandy alone knows now what
passed), but within an hour the sick traveller was resting quietly
between clean sheets in the Dandy's bed.
Pages:
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260