ered the man with added
blankets, then lay down on Ben's cot. Soon she drifted into uneasy
slumber, waking at intervals to serve her patient.

The hours dragged by, the night sloped down to the forest; and the dawn
followed the night. Ben's life still flickered, like a flame in the
wind, in the twilight land between life and death.

Yet little could she do for him these first few days, except, in her
simple faith, to pray. Never an hour passed but that prayers were at her
lips, childlike, direct, entreating prayers from her woman's heart. Of
all her offices these were first: she had no doubt but that they counted
most. She sat by his bedside, kept him covered with the warmest robes,
hewed wood for the fire; but as yet he had never fully emerged from his
unconsciousness. Would he slip away in the night without ever wakening?

But in the morning of the fourth day he opened his eyes vividly,
muttered, and fell immediately to sleep. He woke again at evening; and
his moving lips conveyed a message. In response she brought him steaming
grouse broth, administering it a spoonful at a time until he fell to
sleep again.

In the days that followed he was conscious to the degree that he could
drink broth, yet never recognizing Beatrice nor seeming to know where he
was. His fever still lingered, raging; yet in these days she began to
notice a slow improvement in his condition. The healing agents of his
body were hard at work; and doubt was removed that he had received
mortal internal injuries. She had set his broken arm the best she could,
holding the bones in place with splints; but in all likelihood it would
have to be broken and set again when he reached the settlements. She
began to notice the first cessation of his fever; although weeks of
sickness yet remained, she believed that the crisis was past. Yet in
spite of these hopeful signs, she was face to face with the most tragic
situation of all. Their food was almost gone.

It would be long weeks before Ben could hope for sufficient strength to
start the journey down to the settlements, even if the way were open. As
it was their only chance lay in the fall rains that would flood the
Yuga and enable them to journey down to the native villages in their
canoe. These rains would not fall till October. For all that she had
hoarded their supplies to the last morsel, eating barely enough herself
to sustain life in her body, the dread spectre of starvation waited just
without the