“Sh! Child--don't talk! It's all right. You're getting better. I've
been with you every day. You're in my house now. You'll soon be yourself
again.”
She smiled wanly, put her delicate hand on his and pressed it
gratefully.
“I understand. You thank me--you say that I am good to you. But I'm
not. This is my life. I heal the sick because I must. I love this battle
royal with Death. He beats me sometimes--but I never quit. I'm always
tramping on his trail, and I've won this fight!”
The calm brown eyes held her in a spell and she smiled again.
“Sleep now,” he said soothingly. “Sleep day and night. Just wake to take
a little food--that's all and Nature will do the rest.”
He stroked her hand gently until her eyelids closed.
Two days later Jim clung to the Doctor's hand and insisted on talking.
“Better wait a little longer, boy,” the physician answered kindly.
“You're not out of the woods yet----”
“I can't wait--Doc----” Jim pleaded. “I've just got to ask you
something.”
“All right. You can talk five minutes.”
“My wife, Doc, how is she? You took her to your house, John told me.
She'll get well?”
“Yes. She's rapidly recovering now.”
“What does she say about me?”
“She thinks you're dead.”
“You haven't told her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She had all she could stand----”
Jim stared in silence.
“You think she'd be sorry to know I am alive?” he asked slowly.
“It would be a great shock.”
The steel blue eyes slowly filled with tears.
“God! I am rotten, ain't I?”
“There's no doubt about that, my son,” was the firm answer.
“Why did you fight so hard to save me--I wonder?”
“An old feud between Death and me.”
Jim suddenly seized the Doctor's hand.
“Say, you can't fool me--you're a good one, Doc. You've been a friend to
me and you've got to help now--you've just got to. You're the only one
on earth who can. You've a great big heart and you can't go back on a
fellow that's down and out. Give me a chance! You will--won't you?”
The hot fingers gripped the Doctor's hand with pleading tenderness.
The brown eyes searched Jim's soul.
“If you can show me it's worth while----”
The fingers tightened their grip in silence.
“Just give me a chance, Doc,” he said at last, “and I'll show you! I
ain't never had a chance to really know what was right and what was
wrong. If I'd a lived here with my old mother she'd have told me. You
know what it is to be a stray dog on the streets of New York? Even then,
I'd have kept straight if I hadn't been robbed by a lawyer and his
pal. I didn't know what I was doin' till that night here in this
cabin--honest to God, I didn't----”
He paused for breath and a tear stole down his cheek. He fought for
control of his emotions and went on in low tones.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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