It was Sal who sat at the child's bedside when Jim Dennis rode out to Swamp Creek for Dr Tom. The woman watched every movement of the little face, every quiver of the body. Each moan from his lips pierced her like a knife. The child was not her own, and yet she loved him, and worshipped with a dog-like devotion the big man who was his father.
Sal would willingly have submitted to any torture could she by so doing have saved the child a moment's pain.
During the long weary hours when Jim Dennis was absent she felt as though something in her body must snap.
Then she heard, with her keen ears, the low, dull thud of the horses' hoofs, and she knew they were coming, and that help was at hand. She did not leave the bedside to look out, she would not have done that for worlds. When Dr Tom came into the room she gave a gasp, and watched him as he looked at the child. She saw hope in his face and caught his hand.
Dr Tom pressed it and said,—
'Come in, Jim, the little chap's alive. I'll pull him through. It's not so bad after all.'
All that night Dr Tom fought for the child's life, and the dark woman and Jim Dennis looked on in silent agony.
With the first streaks of dawn a change came over the child. It was as though the coming day had ushered in new life and hope.
For two days Dr Tom remained at Wanabeen, and at the end of that time the boy's life was out of danger.
The tension relapsed, Jim Dennis said,—