imself by an effort.

"Doctor MacTavish," he said, "we are wasting, time, and that little
girl may be gone before we get there. I suppose you are used to this
kind of thing, but, mind you, it means a lot to us, and this little
girl is not going to die if human power can save her. Will five
hundred dollars bring you? If money is any use to you say what you
want and I'll give it to you." He was shaking with the intensity of
his emotion.

Dr. MacTavish turned on him with dignity--he was thoroughly
exasperated now.

"See here," he said brusquely, "I don't want your money--it's not a
matter of money--I won't go out in this storm. Money won't buy me to
freeze myself. Didn't I tell you I'm Scotch and canny?" he added,
half apologetically.

Sandy Braden's eyes flamed with sudden anger.

He took a heavy fur coat from a peg in the hall. "Put that on," he
commanded. "We will start in about two minutes. The horses are at the
door."

The doctor indignantly protested. Without a word Sandy Braden seized
his arm with an iron grip and bundled him into the coat, none too
gently.

"You are Scotch, are you?" he said, looking the doctor straight in
the eye, while he still kept a grip of his shoulder. "Well, I'm
Irish, and we're the people who hit first and explain afterward." He
opened the door and pushed the doctor ahead of him out into the
raging storm.

The best team in the Braden stable was at the door, impatiently
tossing their heads and pawing the snowy ground, ready to measure
their mettle with the storm.

"Get in," Sandy Braden commanded, and without another word Dr.
MacTavish got into the cutter, while one of the men who had been
holding the horses came and tucked the robes around him.

Sandy Braden jumped in beside him, took up the reins, and with an
"All right, boys, let them go"--they were off!

All evening Doctor Clay stayed beside Libby Anne's bedside, soothing
her restless tossing and carefully watching every symptom. Her fever
was steadily mounting, and she complained of a pain in her side. Mr.
Donald, who like everyone else in the household had been since her
illness her devoted slave, came once and stood at the foot of the
bed. Libby Anne looked up, knew him, and smiled faintly.

Dr. Clay had not mentioned to Mrs. Cavers the coming of the great
city doctor, for since the storm had risen to such violence he had
given up all hope of seeing him; for no one, he thought, could drive
against such a blinding bli