n.

"Good God, what a colossal nerve a man is sometimes called upon to have
in this world. Of course she'll die in twenty-four hours if I _don't_
operate; but only a fool--or a genius--would tackle _this_ operation
under such impossible conditions. Practically none of the things here
that science says are necessary. 'A fool, or a genius.'"--He suddenly
smote his hands together, and said, "I hope that I'm a fool for
to-night. God takes care of them ... and drunkards. I wish I had a
strong slug of Judd's white whiskey, it might steady my nerves.

"Where _is_ Judd?" he snapped out, aloud, turning to Rose.

CHAPTER XXI

A MODERN MIRACLE

"I don't know. He was here when you came, but I saw him going up the
mountain into the woods. But I'll answer for him; I'll take that chance,
doctor. She is nearly as dear to me as she is to him, and I know that
she is going to die, unless ... unless ..."

"I knew you'd say it. Well, we'll operate, Miss Merriman."

Donald's voice was calm, impersonal again, and his tone had a steely
quality, as though his lancet or scalpel had become endowed with a
voice, and spoken.

Silently, and with practised hands, the nurse began to unpack his bag
and lay out upon a sheet, which she obtained from Rose and spread over
the rough table, the many strange instruments, bottles, rolls of
bandages and sponges in their sterile packages.

"Have you any baking soda--saleratus, Rose?"

She nodded.

"Good. Put about a teaspoonful in the smaller kettle, and boil these
instruments for ten minutes, while we are making the final preparations.
I want some hot water, too."

He turned away, and for a moment stood looking up at the calm heavens in
which the stars made openings for the white eternity beyond to shine
through. Something in the scene bore his thoughts back to that summer
evening when the mountain man of God had tried so earnestly to minister
to his own disease. Snatches of sentences re-echoed in his memory. Then
he stepped back to Smiles' side and his voice was soft, as he said, "I
suppose that, whenever a surgeon begins an operation like this one, he
has an unformed prayer deep in his heart, though he may not realize to
whom he prays. There was never more occasion for one than to-night,
Rose. I know that the Great Healer is nearer to you than to me. Ask Him
that my hand may not falter."

She nodded again, sweetly serious.

Once more his accustomed bluntness of manner returned, and h