“Father!”
This brought the doctor to the entrance.
“Thanks,” he said. “Very thoughtful of you, Chris. Go away now.”
The boys hurried back to the lean-to and made up the fire, to sit talking till the other occupants of the shanty began to stir, and the rough breakfast was prepared.
“Been sitting up with the poor fellow all night, Chris?” said Mr Bourne. “Oh, he should have wakened me, and I would have relieved him for half the watch.”
The doctor was still in the shed, but he joined the rest when breakfast was ready, and answered the inquiries of his companions.
“A hopeless case, I am afraid,” he said, “but I shall fight it out to the last.—What? Is he sensible?” continued the doctor, in response to a question from Wilton. “At times, but for the most part he keeps wandering about thirst and heat, and wanting to sleep. The poor fellow has evidently suffered terribly.”
After breakfast the doctor returned to the shed, while the others found business to do about the blighted plantations, but working in a dull, despondent fashion, for the recollection of their previous day’s consultation about giving up was still strong in their minds.
“There, let it all go for the present,” said Wilton, at last. “It’s no use to talk about future plans without Lee being here.”
But the doctor was too busy with his patient to do more than join them at dinner, with no better report, for he felt that the man was gradually sinking. It was the same too at the evening meal, when the necessity of some one sharing the night watch came up for discussion, the doctor consenting to Mr Bourne taking the first half of the night while he snatched a few hours’ sleep.