ing Lyle by her own name, but always by that of his
sister, Edna.

The fever had subsided, and he was now rapidly passing into a
death-like stupor, hovering between life and death, unconscious of
skilled physicians and trained nurses that came and went, unconscious
of loving friends bending above him, their prayers and efforts
combined with the skill of the former, in the terrible combat against
the mighty foe.

The physicians watching by the bedside, shook their heads, as they
felt the pulse, fluttering more and more faintly.

"He is sinking, failing rapidly," they said, "to-night will be the
crisis, the turning point; unless there is a change then for the
better, he will never see the dawning of another day."

To Mrs. Cameron, journeying westward with Morton Rutherford, the
moments had seemed like hours, the hours like days, since learning for
whose sake had come the summons to that distant country. Only the
speed of the lightning could have satisfied the heart of the mother
hastening to her long-lost son.

They had been kept informed along the route of Guy's condition, and
now, upon their arrival at Silver City, on the noon train, they found
a special car awaiting them, to convey them at once to the Y, which
had been ordered by telegraphic dispatch from Mr. Cameron.

The watchers by the bedside heard the sound of swiftly approaching
wheels; Mr. Cameron and Houston stepped quickly out to greet the
sweet-faced woman hastening toward the house on the arm of Morton
Rutherford.

"Am I in time? Is our boy still living?" were her first words, as her
husband met her with outstretched arms, his face working with deep
emotion.

"Just in time, thank God!" was the broken reply.

"Oh, Walter, is there no hope?" she queried, understanding his words
only too well.

"I must not deceive you, Marjorie, there is the barest possibility
that he may live, no more."

"He must live, and he will," replied the mother, in tones that
reminded both Houston and Morton Rutherford wonderfully of Lyle.

Turning toward Houston, Mrs. Cameron greeted him affectionately, and
gently touching the wounded arm, exclaimed:

"My poor, dear boy, what a terrible risk you have run!"

To which he replied, "I would go through it all again, Aunt Marjorie,
for the joy I believe it will bring you and yours."

A few moments later, Mr. Cameron led his wife into the sick-room. Lyle
had already left the room, and there remained only Leslie Gladden,
s