time. Down the dim, silent corridor floated the pungent smell. Earle was
at his side, had caught him by the mane, had opened the door, was
holding him back.

"Steady, old man!" he said. "Steady!"

They hurried together down the shining hall. They turned into a strange
room. Over there, lips parted, his mistress had sprung to her feet.
There were others in here--a man, a woman in white--but he hardly saw
them. For on white sheets, face upturned and crimson, eyes half closed,
lay little Tommy Earle.

The mother was on her knees now, leaning far over the boy. Her face was
flushed like his face. She was smiling down eagerly into the strange,
up-turning eyes. "Look!" she was pleading. "Look at Mother, darling. Be
quiet--listen! Here's Frank--come to see you!"

She caught the dog convulsively to her, so close he could feel the
pounding of her heart. "Help me, Steve!" she panted.

She picked the boy's hand up and placed it on the shaggy head. She
pressed the little fingers together. She slipped her arm under the
pillow and turned the burning face toward the dog. "Now!" she smiled.
"You see him, don't you, dear! Mother told you he would come, didn't
she? Mother told you---- Ah!" she gasped.

Long after the boy had gazed in recognition into the deep, longing eyes
of the dog, then with a wistful little smile up into the mother's face;
long after his eyes had closed in that profound sleep which marks the
breaking up of delirium and fever, Frank sat on his haunches beside the
bed, his patient head on the covers.

He licked the hand of the boy, then glanced up inquiringly into the face
of the mother who sat beside him. She shook her head and he licked it no
more.

Later she whispered to him that he could lie down now, and nodded at the
floor at her feet. He understood, but he did not move.

The muscles of his haunches were cruelly cramped when the nurse snapped
off the light. In the pale light growing luminous and pink and gradually
suffusing the room Tommy Earle opened his eyes. First they looked up
into the happy face of the mother, then at Steve Earle standing at the
foot of the bed, then straight and clear into the faithful eyes of his
friend.

The cramped muscles quivered and jerked, the long tail beat the floor.
He wanted to leap on the bed, to rush round the room. The mother caught
him by the mane. He must be still, she said.

The voice of Tommy Earle when he spoke was as gentle and clear as the
chirp of half-a