"
Then, at a quarter-past eleven, the outside door was suddenly thrown
open, and in there staggered Jim, a haggard, wild-eyed being, ghastly
white, utterly exhausted, and holding in his hand a wretched, scrawny
branch of the mountain shrub he had gone to seek.
"Oh, Jim! Jim!" cried Miss Doc, and, running forward, she threw her
arm around his waist to keep him up, for she thought he must fall at
every step,
"He's--alive?" he asked her, hoarsely. "He's alive? I only asked to
have him wait! Hot water!--get the stuff in water--quick!" and he
thrust the branch into her hand.
Beside the bed, on his great, rough knees, he fairly fell, crooning
incoherently, and by a mighty effort keeping his stiff, cold hands from
the tiny form.
Miss Doc had kept a plate of biscuit warm in the stove. One of these
and a piece of meat she gave to the man, bidding him eat it for the
warmth his body required.
"Fix the shrub in the water," he begged.
"It's nearly ready now," she answered. "Take a bite to eat."
Then, presently, she came again to his side. "I've got the stuff," she
said, awed by the look of anguish on the miner's face, and into his
hands she placed a steaming pitcher, a cup, and a spoon, after which
she threw across his shoulders a warm, thick blanket, dry and
comforting.
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