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. There were times when the
links in the chain seemed all blessing.
Waking warm and refreshed, the sick man faced the battle of life once
more, and the chief taking command, and the man quietly and hopefully
obeying orders, the woman found her promise easy to keep; but the mate's
hardest task had come, the task of waiting with folded hands. With the
same quiet steadfastness he braced himself for this task and when, after
weary hours, the chief pronounced "all well" and turned to him with an
encouraging "I think he'll pull through now, my man," the sturdy
shoulders that had borne so much drooped and quivered beneath the kindly
words, and with dimming eyes he gave in at last to the Maluka's
persuasions, and lay down and slept, sure of the Dandy's promise to wake
him at dawn.
At midnight the Maluka left the Quarters, and going back just before the
dawn to relieve the Dandy, found the sick man lying quietly-restful, with
one arm thrown lightly across his brow.
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