nd in the grip of a
loathsome disease it was doubly repulsive. The man's figure was thin and
bony. He lay sick in his shirt and trousers, for he had no night
clothes, to say nothing of underwear, which in all probability he had
never known. His shoes were off, and his feet, knotty, and grimy with
the ground-in dirt of many months, stuck from under the narrow coverlet
which lay over him. His soiled shirt was open at the throat--a throat
presenting alternate ridge and hollow, and covered scantily with
colorless hair. His face was gaunt; his teeth broken and
tobacco-stained; his nose twisted oddly. His hair was a sandy mop. His
eyes were cunning and treacherous. His face was already marked with dull
red spots, and he was burning with fever.

Glenning's face was solemn.

"How long have you been sick?" he asked.

"Two weeks off 'n' on, I reck'n," answered the man.

"How long have you been in bed?"

"Tuk bed yistiddy."

"You should have been in bed ten days, at least. You're pretty sick, my
man."

A shadow of alarm flashed over the bestial countenance.

"I won't _die_, doc, will I? Yo' don't mean I'm gunta _die_!"

In his eagerness he grasped the sleeve of the figure kneeling beside
him.

"You've _got_ to cyore 'im, doc!" wailed the woman. "I can't live
'ithout my man!"

She walked about wringing her hands.

"You've waited too long before seeking help," continued John, getting to
his feet. "There's a chance for you--a slim one, but I'll do what I
can."

He found a rickety chair, and sat down gingerly.

The older children began to snuffle, and the younger ones burst out
crying and ran to their mother, hiding their dirty faces in her dirtier
clothes.

"Small chance in this reeking hole for a man with small-pox," mused
Glenning, then he looked at Mrs. Scribbens, and said:

"That man should have a bath, first of all, from head to foot; a
_scrubbing_. Can you give it to him?"

"I 'low I kin," responded the woman, briskly, "but weuns ain't much on
the wash. Will lye soap do, doc?"

John cast a look at the sick man, and guessed at the texture of his
skin.

"Yes, lye soap will do, but have your water hot, and rinse him off well
when you're through. I'm going to leave some medicine which I want you
to give him through the night."

Mrs. Scribbens disappeared out a door in the rear which led to the back
premises, and busied herself making a fire under a large iron kettle
which hung from a blackened limb, its