So I kissed him and hurried back to the shack, overtaking Mr. Barnett,
who was also going there. Frenchy met us at the door.

"Mebbe heem Docteur no die now, _hein_! Mebbe heem leeve now. I think
heem no die. What you think?"

"We hope and pray he may get well, my good man," answered the parson.

We went in, and Dr. Johnson rose.

"I can see no change as yet," he said, "but then it is hardly possible
that any should occur so soon. At any rate he is no worse."

So Mr. Barnett and I sat down by the bed, and Dr. Johnson went away for
some supper; I am sure he must have been nearly starving.

"He's been muttering a good deal," said the doctor before leaving, "but
that is of no very great moment. The important thing is to watch him to
prevent his getting out of bed, if he should become excitable. We must
have no undue strain on his weakened heart."

So the little parson and I sat quietly by the patient, who appeared to be
sleeping, and for a long time there was no sound at all, and I think we
dreaded to move lest the slightest noise might rouse him.

But after a time, so suddenly that it startled me, came the hoarse, low
voice that was so painful to hear, and I bent further forward to listen.
At first the words were disconnected, with queer interruptions, so that
they possessed no meaning, but presently I was listening, breathlessly.