A quantity of water ran from the boy’s mouth, and Bob repeated the movement as long as there was any result. Then turning him onto his back he said, “Now we’ll have to try artificial respiration. If we only had a pulmotor.”
Slowly he raised and lowered his arms, but the boy lay as dead. Rex and Kernertok stood with bowed heads, watching for the first sign of returning life.
“Come, Jack boy, you must come,” Bob repeated over and over again, as he continued the movement.
His heart began to grow faint when fully half an hour had passed, and still the boy gave no sign of life.
“I won’t give up,” Bob declared over and over, as he redoubled his efforts. “God won’t let him die.”
Rex had several times tried to make Bob let him relieve him, but he steadily refused and he could only kneel by his side and watch his face and pray.
“He’s coming, Bob,” he whispered suddenly, as he noticed a faint tinge of color in the boy’s cheeks. “Easy now.”
Rex placed his ear on Jack’s breast.
“He’s breathing,” he announced, as he raised his head.
“Thank God,” Bob cried, as he began the movements again. “Where’s Kernertok?”