and
never give up. Why you can't die, Ma--you just can't. You're my only
teacher now. There ain't no schools here. How can I learn books without
you to help me? Say you'll get well. Please say it for me--please, just
say it----"

He paused and couldn't go on for a moment, "Say you'll try then--just
for me--please say it!"

"I'll try, Boy," she said tenderly at last.

He flew to the creek bank and in two hours came home with an armful of
fresh sarsaparilla roots. He cut and pounded them into a soft pulp and
made a poultice. Sarah helped him put it in place. He made his mother
drink the bitters every hour. He got stones ready and had them hot to
wrap in cloths and put to her feet the moment they felt cold. He
wouldn't take her word for it either. He kept slipping his little hands
under the cover to feel.

The mother smiled at his tender, eager touch.

"Now, Boy," she said softly. "I'm feeling comfortable, will you do
something for me?"

"What is it?" he cried eagerly.

She smiled again:

"Read to me. I want to hear your voice."

"All right--what?"

"The Bible, of course."

"What story?"

"Not a story this time--the twenty-third Psalm."

The Boy took the worn Bible from the shelf, sat down on the edge of the
bed, opened, and began in low tones to read:

"The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want----"

His voice choked and he stopped:

"O, Ma, I just can't read that now--why--why did he let this come to you
if He's your Shepherd--why--why--why!"

He buried his face in his hands and her slender fingers touched his
hair:

"He knows best, my son--read on--the words are sweet to my soul from
your lips."

With an effort he opened the Book again:

"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;

"He leadeth me beside the still waters.

"He restoreth my soul:

"He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

"I will fear no evil; for thou art with me----"

Again the voice choked into silence and he closed the Book.

"I can't--I can't read it. I'm afraid you're going to give up!" he
sobbed. "O Ma, you won't, will you? Please say you won't?"

"No, no, I won't give up, my Boy," she said soothingly. "I'm just ready
for anything He sends----"

"But I don't want you to say that!" he broke in passionately. "You must
fight. You mustn't be ready. You mustn't think about dying. I won't let
you die--I tell you!"

She str