The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-07-09
Copyright, 1909, by Albert Payson Terhune lilIIIljIlIIIlISiIlIlII1SIIlI1iIllIlIIllll
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 Desiree did not answer. She was asleep On tip-toe, Caleb crossed to the bed. He laid her down upon it. smoothing the hot tumbled pillows with his unaccustomed hand Then he tiptoed with ponderous softness out of the room and closed the door sil- ently behind him.
 "Well!" he exclaimed gleefully, ad- dressing Jack and the doctor who were room. Guess I had my fright for nothin'! She'll get on fine. She's sound asleep, an her forehead's-'
 Tt is the morphia I gave her to deaden the pain,'' said the doctor. If she had not been suffering so terribly it would have taken effect before.''
 ''Morphia? Sufferin'?" repeated Caleb. Why. she's hardly sufferin' at all. Told me so, herself. Look here!" he went on, bullyingly, as he advanced there's a chance she won't get well?''
 ''There is no earthly power" retort- ed the doctor, nettled at the domineer- ing tone, that can keep her alive ten hours longer.''
 You lie! Don't know"
 T cannot thrash you in the ante room of death," answered the doctor and take your sorrow into consid- eration. But what I ixst. said is true. Miss Shevlin has sustained internal in
  Nothing but her yearning to see you again has kept her alive as long as this. It is best to be frank"
 Caleb Was eyeing him stupidly. At last he turned to Jack.
 Did you send those tePgrams?" he asked and his voice was dead.
 Yes. sir," replied Hawarden. '1 sent them. but
 ''But I told him it was useless" put in the doctor. There is not a fighting chQnCa 10 nj IIt of h morphia stupor. The moisture on her forehead is what you laymen would call the 'death-sweat. She"
 You Hel" broke forth Caleb, beside children by your damn profess'nal airs but it don't go down with me. I've seen folks die. An they ain't sane an cheerful an bright like Dey Shev- lin was just now. You quacks make Twin by throwin' medicines you don't half understand into systems you don't understand at all. As long it's a triflin case of humps or headache, you look all-fred wise an write our p'scriptions in a furren language to things reely the matter you're as help less as a drunken longshoreman. If the patient dies from your blunders an from the dope you throw hap from the start If he gets we'll in spite of you. it's your almighty skill that pulled him through swhen a feller gets colic an you call it ap- pendicitis. what do you do? You don't rest till you get chance to stick your knives into him. If he gets well, it's a. 'mir'cle of modern surgery If he croaks. the 'op,ration was a success only the patient got peevish am died. There never yet was an appendicitis case where the Quack in charge didn't say there a been no hope if the op'ra- ton had been delayed another two hours. Oh, you're fine lot of fakers an gold brick con men, you doctops! God damn your soul, I tell you again you lie!"
 The doctor picked up his black bag without replying and moved toward the outer door,
 Where you goin'?' demanded Caleb. I'm going home" was the stiff re- tort. 'I drop this case. I do not care to be associated longer with a wild beast like" ;. The words were choked in his mouth At a spring. Conover had cleared the space between them. had caught the physician by the throat and was shak- ing him back and forth with jerks that threatened to snap the victims spine. Then he hurled him to the cen ire of the room and lowered over him. ablaze with fury
 Yes, I'm a wild beast, all rightp' he snarled. "An' I'm lfble to become hom'cidal one at that. Drop the case would you? Sneak out an leave that poor kid in there to lose what chance she might have from your help? Well, MT. Doctor, if you take one step out into that hall, the next step you takel1 be in hell. What's more. you'n go back to that sick room. right now; am you'll work over Miss Shevlin like you never worked before. If catch you neglect in her or tryin' to get away,-by the Eternal. I'll tear you in half with my bare hands! Now gol Go in there!' The doctor, his rage tempered by the memory of the iron fingers on his windpipe, glared at the madman in angry irreSOlution- CalebS muscles frightened ominously. The physician re- coiled a step in most unprofessional haste.
 You are a dangerous maniaci" he said somewhat unsteadily, 'and you shall go to prison for this outrageous assault. For the present, I shall your threats. but from common human ity toward-'
 Toward yourself" finished Caleb satisfied that he had won his point "An' just to make sure. I'll lock the outer door of this suite an pocket the key. Now go back to your patient,'
 Outside. there was glaring. heartless sunshine. In the sick room stood Caleb and Jack, one on either side of the ing With closed eyes. Desiree Shevlin rested where Conover had laid her. For hours she had lain thus.
 '1 can do no more.' pronounced the doctor. rising and meeting Caleb's glazed eye. "The end may come now at any moment
 The Fighter, his every faculty, drown ed in the horrible egotism of grief. made no answer.
 'If only there were someone to pray!" muttered Jack, battling to keep back the tears. "I wish MT. Grant was"
 ''Pray?" echoed Caleb. rousing him. self and clutching at the faint hope. 'fIt can't do any harm. Pray, mani Pray!"
 TT can't!'' babbled the boy. '1 don't know how. I never prayed in my life. T."
 ''Try it!'' groaned Caleb. ''Try it, I