t Mr. Ferriss was; nothing undecided
about Captain Ward Bennett; when he's sick, he's sick; rushes right at
it like a blind bull. He's as bad now as Mr. Ferriss was in his third
week."

"Do you think he will recognise me?"

The doctor shook his head. "No; delirious most of the time--of
course--regulation thing. If we don't keep the fever down he'll go out
sure. That's the danger in his case. Look at him yourself; here he is.
The devil! The animal is sitting up again."

As Lloyd entered the room she saw Bennett sitting bolt upright in his
bed, staring straight before him, his small eyes, with their deforming
cast, open to their fullest extent, the fingers of his shrunken, bony
hands dancing nervously on the coverlet. A week's growth of stubble
blackened the lower part of his face. Without a moment's pause he
mumbled and muttered with astonishing rapidity, but for the most part
the words were undistinguishable. It was, indeed, not the same Bennett,
Lloyd had last seen. The great body was collapsed upon itself; the skin
of the face was like dry, brown parchment, and behind it the big,
massive bones stood out in great knobs and ridges. It needed but a
glance to know that here was a man dangerously near to his death. While
Lloyd was removing her hat and preparing herself for her work the doctor
got Bennett upon his back again and replenished the ice-pack about his
head.

"Not much strength left in our friend now," he murmured.

"How long has he been like this?" asked Lloyd as she arranged the
contents of her nurse's bag on a table near the window.

"Pretty close to eight hours now. He was conscious yesterday morning,
however, for a little while, and wanted to know what his chances were."

They were neither good nor many; the strength once so formidable was
ebbing away like a refluent tide, and that with ominous swiftness.
Stimulate the life as the doctor would, strive against the enemy's
advance as Lloyd might, Bennett continued to sink.

"The devil of it is," muttered the doctor, "that he don't seem to care.
He had as soon give up as not. It's hard to save a patient that don't
want to save himself. If he'd fight for his life as he did in the
arctic, we could pull him through yet. Otherwise--" he shrugged his
shoulders almost helplessly.

The next night toward nine o'clock Lloyd took the doctor's place at
their patient's bedside, and Pitts, without taking off his clothes,
stretched himself out upon the sofa in one