A slight flush appeared on the girl's face.
“I mean,” she said hurriedly, “cannot I be of some help?”
“Most certainly, most certainly,” said the doctor, noting the flush. “Your help will be invaluable after a bit. But first you must get Mrs. Cameron to sleep. She has been on this job, I understand, for three days. She is quite played out. And you, too, need sleep.”
“Oh, I am quite fit. I do not need sleep. I am quite ready to take my sister-in-law's place, that is, as far as I can. And you will surely need some one—to help you I mean.” The doctor's eyes were upon her face. Under his gaze her voice faltered. The glow of the sunset through the tent walls illumined her face with a wonderful radiance.
“Miss Moira,” said the doctor with abrupt vehemence, “I wish I had the nerve to tell you just how much—”
“Hush!” cried the girl, her glowing face suddenly pale, “they are coming.”
“Here is the Chief, Dr. Martin,” cried Mandy, ushering in that stately individual. The doctor saluted the Chief in due form and said:
“Could we have another tent, Chief, for these ladies? Just beside this tent here, so that they can have a little sleep.”
The Chief grunted a doubtful acquiescence, but in due time a tent very much dilapidated was pitched upon the clean dry ground close beside that in which the sick boy lay. While this was being done the doctor was making a further examination of his patient. With admiring eyes, Moira followed the swift movements of his deft fingers. There was no hesitation. There was no fumbling. There was the sure indication of accurate knowledge, the obvious self-confidence of experience in everything he did. Even to her untutored eyes the doctor seemed to be walking with a very firm tread.
At length, after an hour's work, he turned to Mandy who was assisting him and said: