"Well, I can't stand this! Give it to me, I tell you!" The doctor took a hypodermic syringe, filled it with water and injected it into his arm. While Stuart watched the pitiful trick, his eye wandered over the magnificent trappings of the room. "What irony of Fate!" he exclaimed, under his breath. "Not a clod hopper in the field, nor a blacksmith at his anvil who would change places with him now--the poorest negro who sings at his plow is richer." The sufferer stared and beckoned to Stuart. Handing him a key which he drew from beneath his pillow he cried: "Unlock the right-hand top-drawer of that safe, Jim--the door is open. Hand me those bundles of stocks and bonds and ask those doctors to come in here." Stuart complied with his request, and Bivens spread the brilliant coloured papers on the white covering of his bed, while the doctors drew near. "Listen now, gentlemen," he began, still gasping with pain. "You're our greatest living doctors, I'm told. Well, I'm not willing to die, I won't die--do you hear? I'm only forty-nine years old. You see here thirty millions in gilt-edged stocks and bonds. Well, there are three of you, I'll give you ten millions each to take this stone off of my breast that's smothering me and give me five years more of life. My friend Stuart here is witness to this deed of gift--my word is pledged before him and before God--I'll make good. Do you understand? Ten millions each! Can you grasp the meaning, the sweep and power and grandeur of such an offer? Now, gentlemen, do your best for me. Just five years more--well, we won't haggle over terms--give me one year more and I'll not complain!" The three men of science stood with folded helpless arms and made no effort to keep back the tears. They had seen many men die. It was nothing new--and yet the pity and pathos of this strange appeal found its way to the soul of each. They never envied a millionaire again. They retired for another consultation. Stuart replaced the papers and put the key in Bivens's outstretched hand. It was plain that he was sinking rapidly. "Ask Nan to come here a minute," he said feebly. Stuart walked to the door and whispered to a servant. When he returned to the bedside, the dying man looked up into his face gratefully. "You don't know how it helps me to have you near, Jim, old boy. I'm lonely! Nan I guess is ill and broken down. I've lavished millions on her. I've given her all I possess in my will, but somehow we never found happiness. If I could only have been sure of the deep, sweet, unselfish love of one human soul on this earth! If I could only have won a girl's heart when I was poor; but I was rich, and I've always wondered whether she really loved me for my own sake. At least I've always thanked God for you. You've been a real friend. Our hearts were young together and you stood by me when--I--was--a--poor--lonely--friendless--dog----"