ere
she's marked the wall rubbing against it! Do you suppose she's been
walking that way for three days and nights? Why, she's only a child--no
older than my own daughter!"

Hillas nodded.

"Where are her people? Where's her husband?"

"Down in Yankton, Dan told you, working for the winter. Got to have the
money to live."

"Where's the doctor?"

"Nearest one's in Haney--four days' trip away by stage."

The traveller stared, frowningly.

Dan was looking about the room again and after prodding the gay seat in
the corner, lifted the cover and picked up a folded blanket, shaking out
the erstwhile padded cushion. He hung the blanket over the back of a
chair.

"Mis' Clark, there's nothing but steam will touch membreenous croup. We
saved my baby that way last year. Set here and I'll fix things."

He put the steaming lard-pail on the floor beside the mother and lifted
the blanket over the baby's head. She put up her hand.

"She's so little, Dan, and weak. How am I going to know if she--if
she--"

Dan rearranged the blanket tent. "Jest get under with her yourself, Mis'
Clark, then you'll know all that's happening."

With the pincers he picked up a bit of hot iron and dropped it hissing
into the pail, which he pushed beneath the tent. The room was
oppressively quiet, walled in by the thick sod from the storm. The
blanket muffled the sound of the child's breathing and the girl no
longer stumbled against the wall.

Dan lifted the corner of the blanket and another bit of iron hissed as
it struck the water. The older man leaned toward the younger.

"Stove--fire?" with a gesture of protest against the inadequate oil
blaze.

Hillas whispered, "Can't afford it. Coal is $9.00 in Haney, $18.00
here."

They sat with heads thrust forward, listening in the intolerable
silence. Dan lifted the blanket, hearkened a moment, then--"pst!"
another bit of iron fell into the pail. Dan stooped to the tool-chest
for a reserve supply when a strangling cough made him spring to his feet
and hurriedly lift the blanket.

The child was beating the air with tiny fists, fighting for breath. The
mother stood rigid, arms out.

"Turn her this way!" Dan shifted the struggling child, face out. "Now
watch out for the--"

The strangling cough broke and a horrible something--"It's the membrane!
She's too weak--let me have her!"

Dan snatched the child and turned it face downward. The blue-faced baby
fought in a supreme effort--again the ho