The Angel of the Gila Part 55

Clayton."

When Esther entered the sick room at the Murphy home, she found two critical cases of typhoid fever. Their temperature was so high she was filled with alarm. She questioned the mother closely, as to what had thus far been done for the children.

"Did you follow the doctor's directions?" she asked.

"No, Miss, I didn't think it worth while. Back East where I wuz riz, they didn't think it necessary ter wash sick folks with sody an' water every day, an' alkyhol besides. They jest let sick folks be in peace, an' give 'em a good was.h.i.+n' after they was corpses."

"But you see, Mrs. Murphy, we must sponge typhoid patients with water and with alcohol, to lower their temperature. Brigham's fever is very high."

"I done all I could fur him," sniffled the mother.

"Yes, I know," said Esther, kindly. "What has he eaten? Did you give him the beef juice?"

"No, mum. That wuz no eatin' at all. I give him meat an' potatoes an'

cabbage, jest the way he liked 'em cooked," she said, wiping her eyes on her ap.r.o.n. "He ain't eat none sence. He jest cries an' cries fur ye, Miss."

"Brigham is very sick," the teacher said, gently. "He may not recover.

Shall I take care of him?"

"Yes, Miss, I wisht yer would."

Esther called for water and clean linen. She sponged the children, made the necessary changes, ventilated the room, and closed the door into the living room; and for the first time since their illness began, the children had quiet. The angel of Death hovered near, and the Murphy family were filled with an indefinable fear.

Esther watched over the two children throughout the night. Brigham was delirious. Once he seemed terrified, and called out:

"Mamma, don't hurt my teacher! Wathemah, what did my teacher tell yer about Jesus? Has my teacher come?"

At daybreak, when Esther gave him his medicine, he knew her and smiled. As she bent over him, he said:

"I knowed ye'd come. Is Jesus near?"

"Yes, very near, dear," she answered, softly.

"An' He loves little childern?"

"Yes, dear, loves them dearly."

"I am so glad." He closed his eyes and seemed smiling in his sleep.

Rousing again, he said in a weak voice:

"I am so tired. Will yer carry me ter Jesus?"

"Yes, dear."

Then tenderly the teacher's arms went around the little form. She said, aloud:

"Dear Jesus, I have brought you little Brigham, because you love little children. He is too tired to go any farther alone, so I have brought him to you. Please carry him the rest of the way home."

Gently, she drew her arm away. The child smiled as if satisfied, and dozed off again.

It was late in the morning, when Dr. Mish.e.l.l reached Murphy Ranch. He looked grave as he watched Brigham.

"Better remain here if you can, Miss Bright. Good nursing will save the girl, and may save the boy; but it is doubtful. You realize he is in a critical condition."

"Yes. I will remain, Doctor; but Miss Earle will need help with the other patients."

"Oh, Miss Earle is doing finely," he a.s.sured her. "And with one exception, none of the cases are as serious as these two."

"Who is the exception?"

"I believe his name is Clifton. A cowboy by the name of Harding has gone to his shack, to-day, to nurse him."

"Just like him," she thought.

She made no reply. As the day wore on, Kathleen's fever decreased, but Brigham's increased. The boy again grew delirious. He repeatedly called Wathemah and his teacher. As night drew near, he grew worse.

The parents stood near the bed, weeping. Suddenly the child cried out:

"Papa, won't yer bring my teacher? She knows the way ter heaven."

"She's here, lad," he said, taking one of Brigham's hands in his. Then the father repeated the prayers of his church.

At dawn, Brigham lifted his arms, and smiled. He had found the Open Door.

When the Murphy children knew their brother was dead, they were filled with awe, and huddled in one corner of the living room. The mother sobbed aloud, but refused to come near or touch the still little figure.

The teacher, with tears rolling down her cheeks, prepared her little friend's body for burial. Then she spoke again to the father, reminding him of further preparations. He rose, and, going into the room, where the family were gathered, said:

"We must have a wake. Poor Brigham."

"No, yer won't have no Cath'lic doin's with Brigham," responded his wife.

"Suppose," interposed the teacher, "we have a funeral service for Brigham in the schoolhouse, among the children he loved."

"Shure!" responded the father, wiping his eyes, "that'd be jist the thing."

"Do you approve, Mrs. Murphy?" asked the teacher.

"Yes, Miss. That'd please Brigham, I know." And again she sobbed.

So Brigham was carried to the schoolhouse. The teacher placed a crucifix at the head of the coffin, and lighted several candles. It was the first time religious services for the dead had ever been held in Gila. Heretofore, the dead had simply been buried.

The schoolroom was filled to its uttermost. The girl preacher rose and told them of Brigham's lovely life ever since she had known him, of his interest in Jesus, and of his desire to know the way to heaven.

She told of his last words, and how he asked her to carry him to Jesus. As she spoke, tears rolled quietly down the bronzed cheeks of many a man and woman whose life had been one long record of sin.

Near the coffin, stood Wathemah, his eyes riveted upon the face of his little comrade. The teacher saw the child take off his string of beads and lay it in the coffin.

They buried Brigham on the foothills, and left him alone;--no, not alone, for Wathemah remained standing like a sentinel beside the grave of his little friend.

Wathemah did not return to Mrs. Keith's as usual for supper. Neither was he in his little bunk that night. No Wathemah appeared for breakfast. Inquiries began to be circulated. Where was Wathemah?