The men remained almost silent. Once Dr. Jallup, watching the dust that lay modeled in sharp lights and shadows under the head-lights, mentioned lack of rain. Their route did not lead over the Big Hill. They turned north at Hobbett's corner, drove around by River Street, and presently entered the northern end of the semicircle. The speed of the car was reduced to a crawl in the bottomless dust of the crescent. The head-lights swept slowly around the cabins on the concave side of the street, bringing them one by one into stark brilliance and dropping them into obscurity. The smell of refuse, of uncleaned stables and sties and outhouses hung in the darkness. Peter bent down under the top of the motor and pointed out his place. A minute later the machine came to a noisy halt and was choked into silence. At that moment, in the sweep of the head-light, Peter saw Viny Berry, one of Nan's younger sisters, coming up from Niggertown's public well, carrying two buckets of water. Viny was hurrying, plashing the water over the sides of her buckets. The importance of her mission was written in her black face. "She's awful thirsty," she called to Peter in guarded tones. "Nan called me to fetch some fraish water fum de well." Peter took the water that had been brought from the semi-cesspool at the end of the street. Viny hurried across the street to home and to bed. With the habitual twinge of his sanitary conscience, Peter considered the water in the buckets. "We'll have to boil this," he said to the doctor. "Boil it?" repeated Jallup, blankly. Then, he added: "Oh, yes--boil. Certainly." * * * * * A repellent odor of burned paper, breathed air, and smoky lights filled the close room. Nan had lighted another lamp and now the place was discernible in a dull yellow glow. In the corner lay a half-burned wisp of paper. Nan herself stood by the mound on the bed, putting straight the quilts that her patient had twisted awry. "She sho am bad, Doctor," said the colored woman, with big eyes. Seen in the light, Dr. Jallup was a little sandy-bearded man with a round, simple face, oddly overlaid with that inscrutability carefully cultivated by country doctors. With professional cheeriness, he approached the mound of bedclothes. "A little under the weather, Aunt Ca'line?" He slipped his fingers alongside her throat to test her temperature, at the same time drawing a thermometer from his waistcoat pocket. The old negress stirred, and looked up out of sick eyes. "Doctor," she gasped, "I sho got a misery heah." She indicated her stomach. "How do you feel?" he asked hopefully. The woman panted, then whispered: "Lak a knife was a-cuttin' an' a-tearin' out my innards." She rested, then added, "Not so bad now; feels mo' lak somp'n's tearin' in de nex' room." "Like something tearing in the next room?" repeated Jallup, emptily. "Yes, suh," she whispered. "I jes can feel hit--away off, lak."