s they stealthily crept in. "And"--as they
all gathered round the bed--"he is better already. His breathing is
easier."

The nurse bent over the long figure on the bed. "He is not breathing at
all," said she.

CHAPTER XX.

Jim Urquhart had been fighting bush fires for several days when the
wind changed and carried them back over the burnt ground that
extinguished them. When he rode home, dead beat, from helping a
neighbour who had helped him, it was to meet the news that Mr
Thornycroft was dead, and Mrs Urquhart gone to Redford to support
Deborah Pennycuick.

Mr Thornycroft had been ailing with his asthma so long, and making so
little fuss about it, that his friends had come to regard him as
practically ailing nothing. The death that had slowly stalked him for
years came upon them with the shock of the unexpected; so the
newspapers said. Jim's heart smote him for that he had been so taken up
with the fire epidemic as to have neglected for over a week to inquire
after the old man; it smote him more when he heard that Deb had been at
Redford through the ordeal, without "anyone" near her. He had known too
well--had made it his business to know--that she had had a struggling
life, heart-breaking to think of, for a long time, but under various
pretexts she had kept "everybody" at arm's-length and further, refusing
aid or pity; now there had come a chance to do something for her, and
he had been out of the way. And duty still detained him, to arrange
about destroyed fences and foodless stock--duty that had to be
considered first, even before her. When at last he was free to put
himself at her disposal, a dozen men had jumped his claim.

The manager of Redford met him when a few miles from the place. "You
are behind the fair, Mr Urquhart," cried he, as they drew rein
alongside; and his tone and his face were strangely cheerful,
considering that his good employer of twenty years had been buried only
yesterday--as usual, within a few hours of his death. "But I suppose
you have heard the news. What--you haven't? Then I am the first to
congratulate you," extending a cordial hand. "The will was read this
morning, and you've got the biggest legacy--a cool five thousand, sir."

Five thousand! Jim, never on particularly intimate terms with the
testator, had not thought of the will, and the idea that he might have
an interest in it never crossed his mind. Five thousand! It is said of
drowning people that they see the wh