Into this atmosphere of constraint came ’Poleon Doret, and, had it not been for his own anxieties, he would have derived much amusement from the situation.  As it was, however, he was quite blind to it, showing nothing save his own deep feeling of concern.

“M’sieu’s,” he began, hurriedly, “dat gal she’s gettin’ more seeck.  I’m scare’ she’s goin’ die to-night.  Mebbe you set up wit’ me, eh?”

Tom quickly volunteered:  “Why, sure!  I’m a family man.  I—­”

“Family man!” Jerry snorted, derisively.  “He had one head, mister, and he lost it inside of a month.  I’m a better nurse than him.”

“Bien!  I tak’ you both,” said ’Poleon.

But Jerry emphatically declined the invitation.  “Cut me out if you aim to make it three-handed—­I’d Jim the deck, sure.  No, I’ll set around and watch my grub-pile.”

Tom addressed himself to ’Poleon, but his words were for his late partner.

“That settles me,” said he.  “I’ll have to stick close to home, for there’s people I wouldn’t trust near a loose outfit.”

This was, of course, a gratuitous affront.  It was fathered in malice; it had its intended effect.  Old Jerry hopped as if springs in his rheumatic legs had suddenly let go; he uttered a shrill war-whoop—­a wordless battle-cry in which rage and indignation were blended.

“If a certain old buzzard-bait sets up with you, Frenchy, count your spoons, that’s all.  I know him.  A hundred dollars a dozen for lemons!  He’d rob a child’s bank.  He’d steal milk out of a sick baby’s bottle.”

The pilot frowned.  “Dis ain’t no tam for callin’ names,” said he.  “To-night dat gal goin’ die or—­she’s goin’ begin get well.  Me, I’m mos’ dead now.  Mebbe you fellers forget yourse’f li’l while an’ he’p me out.”

Tom stirred uneasily.  With apparent firmness he undertook to evade the issue, but in his eyes was an expression of uncertainty.  Jerry, too, was less obdurate than he had pretended.  After some further argument he avoided a weak surrender by muttering: 

“All right.  Take him along, so I’ll know my grub’s safe, and I’ll help you out.  I’m a good hand with hosses, and hosses are like humans, only bigger.  They got more sense and more affection, too.  They know when they’re well off.  Now if a hoss gets down you got to get him up and walk him around.  My idea about this girl—­”

Mr. Linton groaned loudly, then to ’Poleon he cried:  “Lead the way.  You watch the girl and I’ll watch this vet’rinary.”

That was an anxious and a trying night for the three men.  They were unskilled in the care of the sick; nevertheless, they realized that the girl’s illness had reached its crisis and that, once the crisis had passed, she would be more than likely to recover.  Hour after hour they sat beside her, administering her medicine regularly, maintaining an even temperature in the tent, and striving, as best they could, to ease her suffering.  This done, they could only watch and wait, putting what trust they had in her youth and her vitality.  Their sense of helplessness oppressed the men heavily; their concern increased as the hours dragged along and the life within the girl flared up to a blaze or flickered down to a mere spark.