But Madge ran out of the shack and down to that spring, where the clear water seemed to be boiling out of the ground, since a little cloud of steam rose from it. But it was just pure icy water and she filled the pail and hurried back with it. When she returned the child was efficiently engaged in making a fire in the little stove. The man had sunk down on his bunk again and she went up to him. His teeth were no longer chattering, but his cheekbones now bore patches of deep red. When she ventured to touch his hand, she found that it was burning hot. At this an awful, distressing, unreasoning fear came upon her. She--she had killed this man, for--for he certainly was going to die, she thought. Even in the big hospital she had never seen a face more strongly stamped with the marks of impending death. It was frightful! She gave him water which he drank greedily, calling for more. She had to hold the cup, since his hand shook too badly. Dully, feeling stricken with a great desolation, she prepared some tea and gave it to him. She had found some biscuits in a box but he refused to eat anything. Presently he was lying flat again on his bunk, with his eyes closed, and when she spoke he made no answer. But he was breathing, she noted. Perhaps he had fallen asleep. It might do him a great deal of good, she thought. The child had thrown herself down on the floor, next to Maigan, who was stretched out at length, enjoying the welcome heat of the stove. From time to time the animal lifted his head and looked towards his master anxiously. He knew that something was all wrong, but now that these other people had come everything would doubtless be made all right. For some time Madge kept still, sitting down on a stool she had drawn to the side of the bunk. She had the resigned patience innate in so many women, but presently she could stand it no longer. Something must be done at once. Valuable time was passing and no help was being obtained. Things simply couldn't go on this way! Rising again she called the child. "We must go and get a doctor at once," she whispered, breathlessly. "I--I'm horribly afraid. Come outside with me." She caught the little girl's arm in her impatience, and took her out. "Your--your friend, Monsieur Hugo, is dreadfully ill, do you understand, child? I heard your mother say that one could telegraph from Carcajou for a doctor. We've got to do it! How long would it take me to get there?" The girl was evidently scared, but she looked at Madge with some of the practical sense of one versed with the difficulties of life in the wilds. "If you 'lone you never get dere. If Maigan work for you maybe three-four hour," answered the child. "Heem go a leetle way den turn back for de shack. No leave master."