hastened to seek their meaning. Listening
intently, he heard the word, "Pray." The doctor's pale face flushed
quickly and as quickly paled again. He shook his head, saying, "I'm
no good at that." Once more the poor lips made an effort to speak, and
again the doctor caught the words, "Jesus, tender--." It had been the
doctor's child prayer, too. But for years no prayer had passed his lips.
He could not bring himself to do it. It would be sheer mockery. But the
eyes were fixed upon his face beseeching, waiting for him to begin.

"All right," said the doctor through his set teeth, "I'll do it."

And above the ribald sounds that broke in from below on the solemn
silence, the doctor's voice, low but very clear, rose in the verses of
that ancient child's prayer, "Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me." At the
third verse,

"Let my sins be all forgiven,
Bless the friends I love so well,
Take me when I die to heaven,
Happy there with Thee to dwell."

there was a deep breath from the sick man, a sigh as of great content,
and then all was still. Ere the prayer had been uttered the answer
had come, "Happy there with Thee to dwell." Poor Scotty! Out from the
sickness and the pain, from the wretchedness and the sin, he had been
taken to the place where the blessed dwell and whence they go no more
out forever.

Silently the doctor composed the limbs, his eyes dim with unusual tears.
As he was thus busied he heard a sniffle behind him and, turning sharply
about, he found Tommy and Shorty standing at the door, both wiping their
eyes and struggling with their sobs.

"Confound you, Shorty!" burst forth the doctor wrathfully, "what in the
mischief are you doing there? Come in, you fool. Did you ever see a dead
man before?" The doctor was clearly in a rage. During the weeks
Shorty had known him in camp he had never seen him show anything but a
perfectly cold and self-composed face. "Is this the teamster?" continued
the doctor. "Come in here. You see that man? Someone has murdered him.
Who sent him down here through this storm? How long had he been ill?
Have you a doctor up there? Are there any more sick? Why don't you speak
up? What's your name?" In an angry flood the questions poured forth upon
the hapless Tommy, who stood speechless. "Why don't you speak?" said the
doctor again.

Recovering himself, Tommy began with the question which seemed to
require least thought to answer. "Thomas Tate, sir, av ye pl