only evil spirit," continued Keith, "is the one who has increased
the fever by vile medicine and terrible noise."

"What, the Medicine Man?"

"Yes. He soon would have made an end of your brother."

A fierce look came into Shrahegan's face, and he made a move as if to
leave the building. Keith laid a restraining hand upon his shoulder.

"Stay," he said. "Don't do anything rash. I want your help. We must
remove the lad to a quiet lodge, and I shall try to undo the harm which
has been done. It is the only way to save his life."

Shrahegan looked intently into the missionary's face, as if to fathom
the depth and strength of his mind.

"Does my pale-face brother know?" he asked, "the risk he is running?
Does he know that the wrath of the Medicine Man is upon him? that the
Indians are very angry, and, if the boy die, the pale-face will die
too?"

"I know it all," replied Keith. "I am not afraid of the Medicine Man.
There stands with me One greater than he, who will help me. He is my
Master, my Great Chief, Jesus, whom I serve."

"And the pale-face is not afraid?" repeated Shrahegan in surprise.

"Why should I be afraid? What good will it do? It will not cure your
brother, and I know Shrahegan will help me."

"Shrahegan will help; he will do all he can. But remember, the Indians
are much excited, and, if the boy die, Shrahegan can do but little to
help his pale-face brother."

"And if the boy gets better?" queried Keith, "what will your people
think?"

"Pale-face will be safe," came the evasive reply.

"Good. Now we must get busy."

By this time the condition of the sick lad was very serious, and Keith
knew that whatever was done had to be done quickly and wisely.
Therefore as soon as the youth was removed to another lodge, he brought
forth his little medical companion, which Shrahegan had rescued from
the Indians, made a careful selection, and rapidly prepared the
medicine which he thought best to administer.

But before laying a hand upon the patient he fell upon his knees and
poured out his soul to the Giver of Life for help and strength in the
time of trial.

Then the fight began, a fight not only for the life of one person, but
for the souls of all those around him, sunk in the darkness of vice and
superstition.

For hours he stayed by the side of the sufferer, Shrahegan only keeping
watch with him. Seldom they spoke, and then only in a whisper. The
day and the night passed, but still