Brave Tom; Or, The Battle That Won Read online

  One night Jim Travers talked a great deal in his sleep. His tossing awokeTom Gordon several times and caused him some anxiety, which was increasedwhen he touched his friend's cheek and found him suffering with a burningfever. Toward morning Jim's restlessness partly subsided, and he fell intoa fitful slumber. Tom dropped off, and did not awake until he heard hisfriend astir.

  "What's the matter?" asked the elder, sitting up in bed and looking in ascared way at Jim, who having partly dressed himself, was sitting on theside of the couch.

  "I don't know; I feel awful queer; my head is light; I saw father andsister Maggie last night: did you see anything of them?"

  "No; you were dreaming."

  "They were here; father came in the room and looked at me, but did notspeak and went away, but Maggie took hold of my hand and asked me to gowith her. Wasn't it strange, Tom, that she should come back after allthese years? I saw her as plain as I do you."

  Tom was frightened. Swallowing a lump in his throat, and hiding hisagitation as best he could, he said gently,--

  "Jim, you are ill. Lie down on the bed again and I'll call Mrs. Pitcairn."

  "I'm afraid there is something the matter with me," muttered the youngerlad, lying down, his face flushed and his eyes staring. He said somethingwhich showed his mind was wandering and he had become flighty.

  Tom hastily donned his clothing and hurried downstairs to the farmer'sgood wife, who lost no time in coming to the room of the boys. By thistime Jim had lost all knowledge of his surroundings. He was muttering andsaying all sorts of strange things, speaking of his father, of his sisterMaggie, and even of his mother, who died when he was a very small boy.

  Mrs. Pitcairn had no children of her own, but she had had great experiencein the sick-room. She saw, almost at a glance, that Jim Travers wassuffering from a violent and dangerous fever. She prepared him a bitterbut soothing draught of herbs, and told her husband a physician must bebrought without delay.

  Farmer Pitcairn felt a strong affection for the two lads, whose singularcoming beneath his roof has been told. He was as much concerned as hiswife, and, harnessing his horse, drove off at a swift pace for the familydoctor, who appeared on the scene a couple of hours later.

  "He is ill, very ill," said the physician; "his fever is of a typhuscharacter, though not strictly that. There has been considerable of itthis spring and summer in New York."

  "Is it contagious?" asked the farmer.

  "Somewhat; though it seems to be more of the nature of an epidemic; thatis, it travels through the air, appearing without special reason at oneplace, and then at another. We have had three cases in the neighborhoodthe past fortnight."

  "What was the result?" asked Mrs. Pitcairn.

  "One was Mrs. Wilson, an elderly lady; the other her grandson, and anephew of Mr. Chisholm," replied the doctor, not answering the question.

  "What was the result?" repeated Mr. Pitcairn for his wife.

  The doctor shook his head, and, with his eyes on the flaming face of JimTravers, whispered,--

  "All three died within twenty-four hours after being taken."

  Tom Gordon's eyes filled with tears.

  "O Doctor! is it as bad as that?"

  "I am sorry to say it is. We shall hope for the best with this young man.Give him the medicine every hour, and I will call again this evening. Youhave all been exposed to whatever danger there is in the air, so you neednot be alarmed."

  "It wouldn't make any difference about that," said Tom; "I'm going tostay with him, and do all I can. I don't care whether or not I catch thefever."

  "That is more creditable to your heart than your head. Don't forget," saidthe doctor, speaking to all, "to watch yourselves closely. At the firstappearance of headache, ringing in the ears, and fever, take those powdersthat I have left on the stand. This is one of the cases where an ounce ofprevention is worth a good many pounds of cure. Nothing more can be donefor the boy than to follow the prescription I have given you. I will behere again in the evening, unless he should become much worse, when youcan send for me."

  Tom Gordon will never forget that day and night. He refused to leave thebedside of his friend except for a few minutes. The farmer and his wifewere equally faithful, and did all they could for the sufferer, whosecondition seemed to show a slight improvement toward the latter part ofthe afternoon. So much so indeed that all felt hope.

  Jim slept at intervals, but continually muttered and flung himself about.There were flashes of consciousness, when he would look fixedly at thosearound his bed, and smile in his winning way. He thanked them for theirkindness, and hoped he would get well; but he had never felt so strange.It seemed as if his head was continually lifting his body upward, and hewas so light he could fly.

  After lying this way for some minutes, his hand, which rested in that ofTom's, would suddenly tighten with incredible strength, and he would risein bed and begin a wild, incoherent rambling, which filled the hearts ofthe others with anguish.

  It was just growing dusk, when Jim, who had exchanged a few words of sensewith his weeping friend, said, lying motionless on his pillow, and withoutapparent excitement,--

  "Tom, I'm dying."

  "O Jim! don't say that," sobbed the broken-hearted lad. "You must getwell. You are young and strong; you must throw off this sickness: keep upa good heart."

  The poor boy shook his head.

  "It's no use. I wish I had been a better boy; but I've said my prayersnight and morning, and tried to do as mother and father used to tell me todo. Tom, try to be better; I tell you, you won't be sorry when you come todie."

  "No one could have been better than you, Jim," said the elder, feelingmore calmness than he had yet shown. He realized he was bending in theawful shadow of death, and that but a few more words could pass betweenhim find the one he loved so well.

  "I haven't been half as good as I ought to--not half as good as you, Tom."

  "O Jim! you should not say that."

  "He is right," whispered Mrs. Pitcairn, standing at the foot of the bed,beside her husband; "he will be with us but a few minutes longer. How doyou feel," she asked gently, "now that you must soon go, Jim?"

  "I am sorry to leave you and Tom, but it's all right. I see mother andMaggie and father," he replied, looking toward the ceiling; "they arebending over me, they are waiting to take my hand; I am glad to be withthem--Tom, kiss me good-by."

  With the tears blinding his eyes, and holding the hot hand within his ownwarm pressure, Tom Gordon pressed his lips on those of Jim Travers, and,as he held them there, the spirit of the poor orphan wanderer took itsflight.

  The door gently opened a minute later and the physician stepped inside.One glance told him the truth.

  "I knew it was coming when I looked at him this morning," he remarked, ina soft, sympathetic voice. "Nothing could save him. How do you all feel?"

  It seemed cruel to ask the question of the three all standing in thepresence of death; but it was professional and it was wise, for, bypressing it, he withdrew their thoughts from the overwhelming sorrow thatwas crushing them.

  Tom Gordon had flung himself on the bed with uncontrollable sorrow. Onearm lay over the breast and partly round the neck of the body, whichbreathed no longer, and whose face was lit up by a beatific smile; for JimTravers was with mother and Maggie and father, and they should go out nomore forever.

  Chapter XIX.