The silence in the room was deathly, the heat intense, heavy,
pall-like. Outside, the rain fell monotonously, and, mingling with its
beating, she heard the croaking of innumerable frogs. Neither Ralston
nor Monck stirred a finger. They were watching closely with bated
breath.

Tommy's breathing was wholly imperceptible, but in that long, long pause
she fancied she saw a slight tremor at his throat. Then the liquid that
had been in the spoon began to trickle out at the corner of his mouth.

She stood up, turning instinctively to the man beside her. "Oh, it's no
use," she said hopelessly.

He bent swiftly forward. "Let me try! Quick, Ralston! Have it ready!
That's it. Now then, Tommy! Now, lad!"

He had taken her place almost before she knew it. She saw him stoop with
absolute assurance and slip his arm under the boy's shoulders. Tommy's
inert head fell back against him, but she saw his strong right hand come
out and take the spoon that Ralston held out. His dark face was bent to
his task, and it held no dismay, only unswerving determination.

"Tommy!" he said again, and in his voice was a certain grim tenderness
that moved her oddly, sending the tears to her eyes before she could
check them. "Tommy, wake up, man! If you think you're going out now,
you're damn well mistaken. Wake up, do you hear? Wake up and swallow
this stuff! There! You've got it. Now swallow--do you hear?--swallow!"

He held the spoon between Tommy's lips till it was emptied of every