"You'll take it?" he said, in his voice of soft persuasion, "It's raw spirit; but it's not going to do you any harm. Just a drop, and then I'll feel easier about you! There now, if that's not real good of you!"
He was pressing it gently upon her; and she could not refuse. She took the flask from him and drank a burning drain.
"Has it gone?" said Jake.
She nodded silently, feeling the glow of the spirit spreading through her veins and the deadly coldness at her heart giving place to it.
He smiled upon her, his pleasant, sudden smile, and took the flask back into his own keeping. Then he bent again to the fire, blowing at it persistently, patiently, till it shot up into a blaze.
She watched him as one in a dream--a dream from which all nightmare horror had been magically banished. This--this was the old Jake to whom she had once turned in trouble, in whose arms she had sobbed out her misery and despair. This was Jake the friend into whose keeping she had given her life.
He straightened himself again, coughing a little. She caught again the gleam of the red-brown eyes, seeking hers.
"Better now?" he asked her.
She bent her head. "Yes, I am all right now. You--you--I didn't expect to see you here."
"Guess it was a mutual surprise," said Jake. "What brought you anyway?"