you are tired, poor fellow!"

"Ay," quietly, "I'm tired; an' th' worst is over, yo' see, an' she's
here," with a patient smile. "Yo' wunnot need me, and theer's them as
does."

From that hour his work at this one place seemed done. For several days
he made his appearance regularly to see if he was needed, and then his
visits gradually ended. He had found a fresh field of labor among the
sufferers in the settlement itself. He was as faithful to them as he had
been to his first charge. The same unflagging patience showed itself,
the same silent constancy and self-sacrifice. Scarcely a man or woman
had not some cause to remember him with gratitude, and there was not one
of those who had jested at and neglected him but thought of their jests
and neglect with secret shame.

There came a day, however, when they missed him from among them. If
he was not at one house he was surely at another, it appeared for some
time; but when, after making his round of visits, the doctor did not
find him, he became anxious. He might be at Janner's; but he was not
there, nor among the miners, who had gradually resumed their work as the
epidemic weakened its strength and their spirits lightened. Making these
discoveries at nightfall, the doctor touched up his horse in some secret
dread. He had learned earlier than the rest to feel warmly toward this
simple co-laborer. "Perhaps he's gone out to pay Langley a visit," he
said: "I'll call and see. He may have stopped to have a rest."

But before he had passed the last group of cabins he met Langley
himself, who by this time was well enough to resume his place in the
small world, and, hearing his story, Langley's anxiety was greater than
his own. "I saw him last night on my way home," he said. "About this
time, too, for I remember he was sitting in the moonlight at the door
of his shanty. We exchanged a few words, as we always do, and he said he
was there because he was not needed, and thought a quiet night would do
him good. Is it possible no one has seen him since?" in sudden alarm.

"Come with me," said his companion.

Overwhelmed by a mutual dread, neither spoke until they reached the
shanty itself. There was no sign of human life about it: the door
stood open, and the only sound to be heard was the rustle of the wind
whispering among the pines upon the mountain side. Both men flung
themselves from their horses with loudly-beating hearts.

"God grant he is not here!" uttered Langley. "God