"All right, 'Mexico,'" replied the doctor cheerfully. "I had to come, you know. We can't go back on our friends."
"Mexico" kept his eyes fastened on the doctor's face. His lips began to tremble. He put out his hand and clutched the doctor's hard. "I know now," he said hoarsely, "why He let 'em kill Him."
"Why?"
"Couldn't go back on His friends, eh?"
"You've got it, 'Mexico,' old man. Pretty good, eh?"
"You bet! Now, Doc, get through quick and get to bed."
The bullet was found in the lung and safely extracted. It was a nasty wound and dangerous, but in half an hour "Mexico" was resting quietly. Then the doctor lay down on a couch near by and tossed till morning, conscious of a return of the pain and fever. The symptoms he well knew indicated a very serious condition. When "Mexico" woke the doctor examined him carefully.
"You're fine, 'Mexico.' You'll be all right in a week or two.
Keep quiet and obey orders."
"Mexico's" hand grasped him. "Doc," he said anxiously, "you look awful bad. Can't you get to bed quick? You're going to be terrible sick."
"I'm afraid I'm going to be pretty bad, 'Mexico,' but I'm glad I came. I couldn't have stayed away, could I? Remember that, 'Mexico.' I'm glad I came."
"Mexico's" fierce black eyes softened. "Doc, I'm sorry and I'm glad. I had a lot of things to ask, but I don't need to. I know now. And I want to tell you, I've quit all that business, cut it right out." He waved his hand toward the bar.
"'Mexico,'" said Barney earnestly, "that's great! That's the best news I've had all summer. Now I must get back quick." He took the gambler's hand in his. "Good-bye, 'Mexico.'" His voice was earnest, almost solemn. "You've done me a lot of good. Good-bye, old boy. Play the game. He'll never go back on a friend."
"Mexico" reached out and held him with both hands. "Git out," he said to the attendant. "Doc," his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper as he drew the doctor down to him, "there ain't nobody here, is there?" he asked, with a glance round the room.
"No, 'Mexico,' no one."
"Doc," he began again, his strong frame shaking, "I can't say it.
It's all in here till it hurts. You're--you're like Him, I think.
You make me think o' Him."
Barney dropped quickly on his knees beside the bed, threw his arms about his friend, and held him for a few moments in a tight embrace. "God bless you, 'Mexico,' for that word," he said.
"Goodbye, my friend."
They held each other fast for a moment or two, looking into each other's eyes as if taking a last farewell. Then Barney took his journey through the storm, which was still raging, his fever mounting higher with every moment, back to the hospital, where Margaret received him with a brave welcoming smile.
"Dr. Cotton has returned," she announced. "And Dr. Neeley of Nelson is here, Barney."
He gave her a look of understanding. He knew well what she meant.
"That was right, Margaret. And ****?"
"**** will be here this afternoon."
"You think of everything, Margaret dear, and everybody except yourself," said Barney, as he made his way painfully up the stairs.
"Let me help you, Barney," she said, putting her arms about him.
"You're the one who will not think of yourself."
"We've all been learning from you, Margaret. And it is the best lesson, after all."
The consultation left no manner of doubt as to the nature of the trouble and the treatment necessary. It was appendicitis, and it demanded immediate operation.
"We can wait till my brother comes, can't we, Doctor?" Barney asked, a little anxiously. "An hour can't make much difference now, you know."
"Why, certainly we shall wait," cried the doctor.
Twenty miles through the storm came ****, in answer to Margaret's urgent message, to find his brother dangerously ill and preparing for a serious operation. The meeting of the brothers was without demonstration of emotion. Each for the sake of the other held himself firmly in hand. The issues were so grave that there was no room for any expenditure of strength and indulging in the luxury of grief. Quietly, Barney gave his brother the few directions necessary to the disposal of his personal effects.
"Of course, ****, I expect to get through all right," he said, with cheerful courage.
"Of course," answered ****, quickly.
"But it's just as well to say things now when one can think quietly."
"Quite right, Barney," said **** again, his voice steady and even.
The remaining minutes they spent in almost complete silence, except for a message of remembrance for the mother and the father far away; then the doctor came to the door.
"Are you ready, Doctor?" said ****, in a firm, almost cheerful voice.
"Yes, we're all ready."
"A minute, Doctor, please," said Barney.
The doctor backed out of the room, leaving the brothers alone.
"Just a little, word, ****."
"Oh, Barney," cried his brother, his breast heaving in a great sob, "I don't think I can."
"Never mind then, old chap," replied Barney, putting out his hand to him.
"Wait a minute, Barney. I will," said ****, instantly regaining hold of himself. As he spoke he knelt by the bed, took his brother's hand in both of his and, holding it to his face, spoke quietly and simply his prayer, closing with the words, "And O, my Father, keep my brother safe." "And mine," added Barney. "Amen."
"Now, ****, old boy, we're all ready." And with a smile he met the doctor at the door.
In an hour all was over, and the grave faces of the doctor and the nurse told **** all he dared not ask.
"How long before he will be quite conscious again?" he inquired.
"It will be an hour at least," replied the surgeon, kindly, "before he can talk much."
Without a word to anyone, **** went away to his room, locked the door upon his lonely fight and came forth when the hour was gone, ready to help his brother if he should chance to need help for "the last weariness, the final strife."
"We must help him," he said to Margaret as they stood together waiting till he should waken. "We must forget our side just now."
