At the sound of that meek sternutation Jim whirled about. "Lou!" "Jim! Oh, Jim! You're not killed!" A muddy, bedraggled little figure that once had been pink and white flew straight to him, and two soft arms swept about him and clung convulsively. "I seen it comin', an'--an' I tried to shove you out of the way----" "Thank God, little girl! Thank God you aren't hurt!" he murmured brokenly. "I thought the tree had fallen on you!" "Only the boughs of it, but they held me down. Oh, Jim, if you'd been killed I wouldn't 'a' cared what happened to me!" His heart leaped, and his own arms tightened about her at the naive, unconscious revelation which had issued from her lips. Then all at once he realized what it had meant, that hideous feeling of loss when he thought that she lay buried beneath the tree. It had come to them both, revealed as by a flash of the lightning which was now traveling toward the east, and in the wonder and joy of it he held her close for a moment and then put her gently from him. Sternly repressing the words which would have rushed from his heart, he said quietly: "Thank God we were both spared. Come, little Lou, we must find shelter." CHAPTER VIII Journey's End The rain had ceased, and as they walked down the muddy road the sun came out even before the final mutterings of the thunder had died away in the distance, and so they came at last upon a little house which sat well back among a group of dripping trees. "Take your coat, Jim," Lou said, breaking a long silence which had fallen between them. "That porch is so wet now that we can't get it any wetter an' I'm goin' to ask for a chance to get dry." But they had scarcely passed through the gate when the front door opened and a young woman rushed out. "Oh! Will you run to the next house for me and telephone for the doctor?" she cried, all in one breath. Her eyes were staring and her breast heaved convulsively. Jim quickened his pace. "Where is the next house, and what doctor shall I send for?" he asked pleasantly. "It's just over the ridge there; the Colberts. They know Dr. Blair's number. My husband would go himself but he can't step on his hurt foot and I don't dare leave. Tell the Colberts that it's the baby! He's dying, and I don't know what to do!" Jim turned, and hurried off over the ridge, but Lou took a step forward. "Baby! I've been takin' care of babies all my life, seems like. You let me look at it, ma'am." "Oh, do you think you could do anything, a little thing like you?" The young woman eyed the forlornly drenched figure before her rather doubtfully, but something she read in Lou's steady, confident gaze seemed to reassure her, and she threw wide the door. "Come in, please! He's all blue."