r camels and
her guides, was traveling to the Siberian railroad. The next day
they heard the whole caravan had returned. Four days out Jack had
been taken ill. The only available shelter was an old monastery
about a mile from the village. To this he had been moved. My
hosts opened a window and pointed to a far-away, high-up light. It
was like the flicker of a match in a vast cave of darkness. They
told me wonderful things of the rooms in the monastery, which were
cut in the solid rock of the mountain-side, and the strange dwarf
priest who kept it.

They lied beautifully and cheerfully as to Jack's condition, and
all the time in their hearts they knew that he had the barest
chance to live through the night.

The woman doctor had nursed him straight through, permitting no one
else near. The dwarf priest brought her supplies.

Her last message for the day had been, "The crisis will soon be
passed."

Even now something grips my throat when I remember how those dear
boys worked to divert me, until my strength revived. They rigged
up a battered steamer-chair with furs and bath robes, put me in it,
promising that as soon as I was rested they would see what could be
done to get me up to the monastery. But I was not to worry. All
of them set about seeing I had no time to think. Each took his
turn in telling me marvelous tales of the life in that wild
country. One boy brought in the new litter of puppies, begging me
to carefully choose a name for each. The two ponies were trotted
out and put through their pranks before the door in the half light
of a dim lantern.

They showed me the treasures of their bachelor life, the family
photographs and the various little nothings which link isolated
lives to home and love. They even assured me they had had _the_
table-cloth and napkins washed for my coming. Household interests
exhausted, they began to talk of boyhood days. Their quiet voices
soothed me. Prom exhaustion I slept. When I woke, my watch said
one o'clock. The house was heavy with sleeping-stillness.

Through my window, far away the dim light wavered. It seemed to be
signaling me. My decision was quick. I would go, and alone. If I
called, my hosts would try to dissuade me, and I would not listen.
For life or for death, I was going to Jack. The very thought lent
me strength and gave my feet cunning stealthiness. A high wall was
around the house but, thank Heaven, they had forgotten to lock the