All through the night the sick man tossed and moaned. By morning he was delirious. Then Josè and Doña Maria became genuinely alarmed. The toil and exposure had been too much for Rosendo at his advanced age. In his delirium he talked brokenly of the swamps through which he had floundered, for he had taken the trail in the wet season, and fully half of its one hundred and fifty miles of length was oozy and all but impassable bog. By afternoon the fever had greatly increased. Don Mario shook his head as he stood over him. "I have seen many in that condition, Padre, and they didn't wake up! If we had quinine, perhaps he might be saved. But there isn't a flake in the town." "Then send Juan to Bodega Central at once for it!" cried Josè, wild with apprehension. "I doubt if he would find it there either, Padre. But we can try. However, Juan cannot make the trip in less than two days. And I fear Rosendo will not last that long." Doña Maria sat by the bedside, dumb with grief. Josè wrung his hands in despair. The day drew slowly to a close. The Alcalde had dispatched Juan down to the river to signal any steamer that he should meet, if perchance he might purchase a few grains of the only drug that could save the sick man. Carmen had absented herself during the day; but she returned in time to assist Doña Maria with the evening meal, after which she went at once to her bed. Late at night, when the sympathizing townsmen had sorrowfully departed and Josè had induced Doña Maria to seek a few moments rest on her _petate_ in the living room, Carmen climbed quietly out of her bed and came to where the priest sat alone with the unconscious Rosendo. Josè was bending over the delirious man. "Oh, if Jesus were only here now!" he murmured. "Padre dear." Josè looked down into the little face beside him. "People don't die, you know. They don't really die." The little head shook as if to emphasize the words. Josè was startled. But he put his arm about the child and drew her to him. "_Chiquita_, why do you say that?" he asked sorrowfully. "Because God doesn't die, you know," she quickly replied. "And we are like Him, Padre, aren't we?" "But He calls us to Him, _chiquita_. And--I guess--He is--is calling your padre Rosendo now." Does God kill mankind in order to give them life? Is that His way? Death denies God, eternal Life. And-- "Why, no, Padre," returned the innocent child. "He is always here; and we are always with Him, you know. He can not call people away from where He is, can He?" _Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end of the world._ The Christ-principle, the saving truth about God and man, is ever present in an uncomprehending world. Josè knew that there was no material dependence now. Something told him that Rosendo lay dying. There was no physician, no drug, in the isolated little town. There was none but God to save. And He--