In the days which followed, Cameron wrote long letters to his wife, preparing her, with many loving words, for what was, in all probability, sure to come before she could reach home again. He also prepared an article for the Whistler, telling of Frank's death, but omitting all that would tend to injure the young man's character. To Adam Goodrich only, he wrote the awful truth. Other letters containing requests in regard to his business affairs, he addressed to Dick Falkner and Uncle Bobbie Wicks, and one to the President of the Association, in which he made several recommendations in regard to the work. All of these, except the one to his wife, he placed in the hands of the negro to be mailed after his death, if such should be the end. Then when the symptoms of the dread disease appeared, he calmly and coolly began his fight for life. But his efforts were of no avail; and one night, just before the break of day, he called the old colored man to his bedside and whispered, with a smile, "It's almost over, Uncle Jake; my Master bids me come up higher. Good-bye; you have been very kind to me, and the good Father will not forget you." And so talking calmly of the Master's goodness and love, he fell asleep, and the old negro sat with a look of awe and reverence on his dusky face, as the glorious sunlight filled the cabin and the chorus of the birds greeted the coming of the day. Much that passed in the weeks following, cannot be written here. Mrs. Cameron's grief and anguish were too keen, too sacred, to be rendered in unsympathetic print. But sustained by that power which had ennobled the life of her husband, and kept by the promises of the faith that had strengthened him, she went on doing her part in the Master's work, waiting in loving patience the call that would unite them again. A month after the news of Cameron's death reached Boyd City, the president of the Association called on Dick and spent an hour with him talking of the work. Before leaving, he said: "Mr. Falkner, in Rev. Cameron's letter to me, he strongly recommended that you be called to take the place left vacant as director of the Association. With your consent, I will announce that recommendation at our next meeting. But first, I would like to know what answer you would give." Dick asked for a week to think over the matter, which was granted. And during that time he consulted Elder Wicks. Uncle Bobbie only said, as he grasped his young friend by the hand, "Behold, I have set before you an open door." And Dick bowed his head in silent assent. The same day, late in the afternoon, George Udell was bending over some work that he was obliged to finish before going home. His helper had gone to supper, and the boy, a new one in the office, was cleaning up preparatory to closing for the night. "Don't clean that press, Jim," said the printer, suddenly. "What's the matter; don't you know that it's time to quit?" asked the tired youngster, a note of anxiety in his voice.