... Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the
arrow that flieth by day, nor for the pestilence that walketh in
darkness."

"Now, sir," said the orderly, "we'll just move you onto this truck."
But Roderick rose up strongly. "Why can't I walk down?" he asked. The
nurse stared and again felt the patient's pulse for some explanation of
this transformation. The quiet steady beat in the wrist was the
strangest part of it all.

"Well," she cried admiringly, "I never saw anything like you. You're
perfectly able to walk; but you'd better save your strength. Just lie
down on this. You'll be all over your operation in no time!" Roderick
obeyed, and the orderly wheeled him away to the elevator; and along the
bare hospital corridor moved with him that strong Presence. And he
went with a perfect faith and as little fear as if he had been going
along the Pine Road to his home. What did it matter as to the result,
or what did it matter that his father back in Algonquin did not know?
He and his father were safe, upheld by the everlasting arms. It was
well, no matter what the outcome. When he reached the operating room
the Presence was there, just as real as the muffled doctors standing
ready to do their work, and when he was stretched upon the table taking
the anaesthetic, he felt as peaceful as on that night when he sank
asleep in his father's arms and was borne safely homeward.

It seemed that the next moment he awoke in the room he had so recently
left. Dr. Nicholls was at his side. "A normal pulse," he said,
smiling into Rod's enquiring face. "You're a wonder. What do you
think of that, nurse?"

"I expected that," she said, smiling.

"You've behaved so well," continued the doctor, "that I believe you're
able to receive two pieces of good news."

"My father," whispered Roderick. The doctor nodded happily. "A
telegram came half-an-hour ago. It reads, 'Out of danger, no need to
come, will write. E. Brians.'" Roderick felt the tears slipping over
his cheek. The nurse wiped them away. He was remembering it all now.
The Presence had been with his father too.

"You haven't asked about my other news," said the doctor.

Roderick looked at him enquiringly. He was thinking of Helen, and had
forgotten all about the operation.

"Berger saved your arm. And it will be as fit as ever in a few months.
It was the most delicate kind of operation, and one of the finest he
ever did. I shall tell y