t you speak to me, old chap? Can't you
tell me what to do? I want to help you, but I am so stupid and
ignorant. What can I do?"

The muttering went on, and the big erst strong man slowly rolled his
head from side to side, staring away into the past, and sending a chill
of horror through the boy.

For a few moments Dyke bowed his head right into his hands, and uttered
a low groan of agony, completely overcome by the horror of his
position--alone there in that wild place, five or six days' journey from
any one, and hundreds of miles from a doctor, even if he had known where
to go.

He broke down, and crouched there by the bedside completely prostrate
for a few minutes--not for more. Then the terrible emergency stirred
him to action, and he sprang up ready to fight the great danger for his
brother's sake, and determined to face all.

What to do?

He needed no telling what was wrong; his brother was down with one of
the terrible African fevers that swept away so many of the whites who
braved the dangers of the land, and Dyke knew that he must act at once
if the poor fellow's life was to be saved.

But how? What was he to do?

To get a doctor meant a long, long journey with a wagon. He felt that
it would be impossible to make that journey with a horse alone, on
account of the necessity for food for himself and steed. But he could
not go. If he did, he felt that it would be weeks before he could get
back with medical assistance, even if he reached a doctor, and could
prevail upon him to come. And in that time Joe, left to the care of
this half-savage woman, who had quite made up her mind that her master
would die, would be dead indeed.

No: the only chance of saving him was never to leave his side.

Fever! Yes, they had medicine in the house for fever. Quinine--
Warburgh drops--and chlorodyne. Which would it be best to give? Dyke
hurried to the chest which contained their valuables and odds and ends,
and soon routed out the medicines, deciding at once upon quinine, and
mixing a strong dose of that at once, according to the instructions
given upon the bottle.

That given, the boy seated himself upon a box by the bed's head, asking
himself what he ought to do next.

He took Emson's hand again, and felt his pulse, but it only told him
what he knew--that there was a terrible fever raging, and the pulsations
were quick and heavy through the burning skin.

A sudden thought struck him now. The place was