Captain Jim Part 45

"I don't think you should stay," she said to Norah. "The maid and I can do everything for him--and his mother will be home to-morrow. A good hot bath, with some disinfectant in it, here; then leave all your clothes here that you've worn near the patient, and run home in fresh things. No risk for you then."

"I couldn't leave Geoff," Norah said. "Of course I won't interfere with you; but his mother left him to me while she was away. And he might ask for me."

"Well, it's only for your own sake I was advising you," said the nurse. "What do you think, Mr. Linton?"

"I think she ought to stay," said David Linton shortly--with fear tugging at his heart as he spoke. "Just make her take precautions, if there are any; but the child comes first--he was left in our care."

He went away soon, holding Norah very tightly to him for a moment; and then the nurse sent Norah to bed.

"There's nothing for you to do," she said. "I shall have a sleep near the patient."

"But you'll call me if he wants me?"

"Yes--I promise. Now be off with you."

At the moment Norah did not feel as though she could possibly sleep; but very soon her eyes grew heavy and she dozed off to dream, as she often dreamed, that she and Jim were riding over the Far Plain at Billabong, bringing in a mob of wild young bullocks. The cattle had never learned to drive, and broke back constantly towards the shelter of the timber behind them. There was one big red beast, in particular, that would not go quietly; she had half a dozen gallops after him in her dream with Bosun under her swinging and turning with every movement of the bullocks, and finally heading him, wheeling him, and galloping him back to the mob. Then another broke away, and Jim shouted to her, across the paddock.

"Norah! Norah!"

She woke with a start. A voice was calling her name, hoa.r.s.ely; she groped for her dressing-gown and slippers, and ran to Geoffrey's room.

The nurse, also in her dressing-gown, was bending over the bed.

"You're quick," she said approvingly. "He only called you once. Take this, now, sonnie."

"Norah!"

She bent down to him, taking the hot hand.

"I'm here, Geoff, old man. Take your medicine."

"All right," said Geoffrey. He gulped it down obediently and lay back. "Will Mother come?"

"Very soon now," Norah said. "You know she had to be in London--just for one night. She'll be back to-morrow."

"It's nearly to-morrow, now," the nurse said. "Not far off morning."

"That's nice!" the child said. "Stay with me, Norah."

"Of course I will, old man. Just shut your eyes and go to sleep; I won't go away."

She knelt by his bed, patting him gently, until his deep breaths told that sleep had come to him again. The nurse touched her shoulder and pointed to the door; she got up softly and went out, looking through her open window at the first streaks of dawn in the east. Her dream was still vivid in her mind; even over her anxiety for the child in her care came the thought of it, and the feeling that Jim was very near now.

"Jim!" she whispered, gazing at the brightening sky.

In Germany, at that moment, two hunted men were facing dawn--running wildly, in dread of the coming daylight. But of that Norah knew nothing. The Jim she saw was the big, clean-limbed boy with whom she had ridden so often at Billabong. It seemed to her that his laughing face looked at her from the rose and gold of the eastern sky.

Then Geoffrey turned, and called to her, and she went to him swiftly.

It was four days later.

"Mother." Geoffrey's voice was only a thread of sound now. "Will Father come?"

"I have sent for him, little son. He will come if he can."

"That's nice. Where's Norah?"

"I'm here, sweetheart." Norah took the wasted hand in hers, holding it gently. "Try to go to sleep."

"Don't go away," Geoffrey murmured. "I'm awful sleepy." He half turned, nestling his head into his mother's arm. Across the bed the mother's haggard eyes met Norah's. But hope had almost died from them.

"If he lives through the night there's a chance," the doctor said to David Linton. "But he's very weak, poor little chap. An awful pity; such a jolly kid, too. And all through two abominable families of tinkers! However, there are no fresh cases."

"Can you do nothing more for Geoffrey?"

The doctor shook his head.

"I've done all that can be done. If his strength holds out there is a bare chance."

"Would it be any good to get in another nurse?" Mr. Linton asked.

"I'm afraid of the mother and Norah breaking down."

"If they do, we shall have to get some one else," the doctor answered.

"But they wouldn't leave him; neither of them has had any sleep to speak of since the boy was taken ill. Norah is as bad as Mrs. Hunt; the nurse says that even if they are asleep they hear Geoffrey if he whispers. I'll come again after a while, Mr. Linton."

He hurried away, and David Linton went softly into the little thatched cottage. Dusk was stealing into Geoffrey's room; the blind fluttered gently in the evening breeze. Mrs. Hunt was standing by the window looking down at the boy, who lay sleeping, one hand in that of Norah, who knelt by the bed. She smiled up at her father. Mrs. Hunt came softly across the room and drew him out into the pa.s.sage.

"He may be better if he sleeps," she said. "He has hardly had any real sleep since he was taken ill."

"Poor little man!" David Linton's voice was very gentle. "He's putting up a good fight, Mrs. Hunt."

"Oh, he's so good!" The mother's eyes filled with tears. "He does everything we tell him--you know he fought us a bit at first, and then we told him he was on parade and we were the officers, and he has done everything in soldier-fas.h.i.+on since. I think he even tried to take his medicine smartly--until he grew too weak. But he never sleeps more than a few moments unless he can feel one of us; it doesn't seem to matter whether it's Norah or me."

Geoffrey stirred, and they heard Norah's low voice.

"Go to sleep, old chap; it's 'Lights Out,' you know. You mustn't wake up until Reveille."

"Has 'Last Post' gone?" Geoffrey asked feebly.

"Oh yes. All the camp is going to sleep."

"Is Father?"

"Yes. Now you must go to sleep with him, the whole night long."

"Stay close," Geoffrey whispered. His weak little fingers drew her hand against his face. Then no sound came but fitful breathing.