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Stretton, Hesba, 1832-1911

"Brought Home"

God
will help me to conquer, and you will help me. Do not leave us. O God,
do not let him die!"
But he did not hear her. A faintness and numbness that seemed like
death, which had been creeping languidly through his veins for some
time, darkened his eyes and sealed his lips. He could not see her, and
her voice sounded far away. She called again and again upon him, but
there was no answer. The deep roar of the storm on the other side of the
frail wooden walls thundered continuously, and the groan of the
straining planks grated upon her ear as she listened intently for one or
more word from him. Was she then alone with him, dying? Was there no
help, nothing that could be at least attempted for his help? Through the
uproar and tumult she caught the sound of some one stirring in the
saloon. She sprang to the door, and met Captain Scott on the point of
opening it.
"Come," said she frantic with terror; "he is dead already."
The captain bent over the dying man, and with the promptitude of one to
whom time was of the utmost value passed his hand rapidly over his
benumbed and paralyzed body.


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