ndaged with a cloth. His lips were discolored,
his cheeks were white, and his hair was damp with the sweat that ran
in big drops to his face and neck. At his feet Nary Crowe stood,
holding a horn cup of brandy, and by his head knelt Kane Wade, the
Methodist, praying in a loud voice.

"God bring him to Thy repentance," cried Kane Wade; "restore him to
the joy of Thy salvation. The pains of hell have gotten hold of him.
Hark how the devil is tearing him. He is like to the man with the
unclean spirit, who had his dwelling among the tombs. The devil is
gotten into him. But out wi' thee, Satan, and no more two words about
it! Thanks be unto God, we can wrestle with thee in prayer. Gloom at
us, Satan, but never will we rise from our knees until God hath given
us the victory over thee, lest our brother fall into the jaws of
hell, and our own souls be not free from blood-guiltiness."

In this strain he prayed, shouting at the full pitch of the vast
bellows of his lungs, and loudest of all when the delirium of the
sick man was strongest, until his voice failed him from sheer
exhaustion, and then his lips still moved, and he mumbled hoarsely
beneath his breath.

Jason stood in the middle of the floor and looked on in his great
stature over the heads of the people about him, while Greeba, with
quiet grace and gentle manners, thinned the little hut of some of the
many with whom the dense air smoked and reeked. After that she lifted
the poor restless, tumbling, wet head from its hard pillow, and put
it to rest on her own soft arm, with her cool palm to the throbbing
brow, and then she damped the lips with the brandy from Nary Crowe's
cup. This she did, and more than this, seeming to cast away from her
in a moment all her lightness, her playfulness, her bounding happy
spirits, and in the hour of need to find such tender offices come to
her, as to all true women, like another sense.

And presently the delirium abated, the weary head lay still, the
bleared eyes opened, the discolored lips parted, and the dying man
tried to speak. But before ever a word could come, the change was
seen by Kane Wade, who cried, "Thank God, he has found peace. Thank
the Lord, who has given us the victory. Satan is driven out of him.
Mercy there is for the vilest of sinners." And on the top of that
wild shout old Chalse struck up, without warning, and in the craziest
screech that ever came from human throat, a rugged hymn of triumph,
wherein all the li