Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-02-16


toppled queer form, and, STOPPING over,
Dave saw that it was a man carrying another
on his back, and that both were unconscious.
And, strangely enough, it was the one be-
meath who seemed dead. He dragged them
in and slammed the door, and sprang for a
bottle on the shelf; but one, at least, did not
respond, and with his own hands Dave
stripped the clothing from his enemy and
chafed his frosted extremities, leaving the
little doctor to effect his own recovery.
CANADA CHARLEY came to his senses,
and for a long time stared at an I'M
familiar windowpane through which clear,
wintry sunlight streamed, then down at his
hands, which we're oddly bandaged. He sat
up and thrust his feet clumsily from beneath
the blankets to dangle beside the bed. He
studied them; for some of the toes were
bandaged, even as his fingers He stood on
them, and they panied him. He remem-
bered it all now, up to that moment when
he had crawled on knees and one hand, with
the little doctor on his back through that
last stretch of snow leading from the beach
up to the cabin door. But the remainder
was blank. He recalled that he had finally
surrendered and given up, just as the door,
which had maevolently kept receding, had
been within reach. He wondered if Re had
Il
Ben Woodland; if Ben had left for all time;
if Dave was there. 1t was very bewildering!
He would 60 outside and find out.
THE big main room was empty; but from
the one behind came voices, and one
was jubilant. 1t was the doctors.
"Dave, he'll make it! Pneumonia has a
crisis on the tenth day. He's all right! We
win"
Canada Charley hobbled on into the
room and stood at the foot of The Bears
bed, clinging to the footboard to stay that
reeling of the world The doctor turned
toward him a swollen, cracked face, where
the frost had left it's brand of the North
land.
"You-you-" he began in establishment;
interrupted.
"What date is this?" it demanded with
trembling insistence.
The doctor turned toward him. "This,
he answered softly, "is Thursday, Ben, and
I've been here two days; but you owe it to
Charley and Dave that you're able to know
it. You've been sick about ten days"
There was a long silence, while the three
men watched him.
"Then," said the weak voice, still insist
emily, "if it's Thursday, and I've been sick
as long as CndC, IL l1luSC DC Illc IuleeIIH Ol
the month, amt ito'
The doctor consulted a book in his pocket.
"You are correct" he said. at is the ff-
teenth."
The Bears white, thin fingers came to-
gether before him on the coverlet, and he
closed his eyes. His lips moved noiselessly,
as if in prayer perhaps he was praying.
Then, after a minute or two he spoke, so
softly that had the wind been grooming
without it would have drowned his voice:
at was on the fifteenth of this month, all
those years ago. that she left me. And yet
| am spared like ripe old sheaf of wheat,
forgotten in the field. And | wouldn't be
unhappy to die, and I'm not unhappy to
live, because there is some good left for me
to do. | have no enemies. | have learned
how to forgive. The Best Book says, He
that loveth not his brother abideth in death
so live"
The sunlight suddenly shifted until it
leaped through the window in the room, and
fell upon and glorifed his face until it was
more benevolent, and kindly, and old, than
ever before. He opened his eyes, and they
were filled with tears. The three men in the
room leaned forward awkwardly, as if to
comfort him.
Boys he said weakly, "I'm tryin'; but
T no