I am tired, of course. It isn't a very cheerful home-coming, is it,
Jack? And he was so pleased when he got your cable from London. Poor old
man!"

MacRae got up suddenly. But the clatter of his shoes on the floor
recalled him to himself. He sat down again.

"I've got to do something," he asserted.

"There's nothing you can do," Dolly Ferrara said wistfully. "He can't
be moved. You can't get a doctor or a nurse. The country's full of
people down with the flu. There's only one chance and I've taken that. I
wrote a message to Doctor Laidlaw--you remember he used to come here
every summer to fish--and Uncle Peter went across to Sechelt to wire it.
I think he'll come if he can, or send some one, don't you? They were
such good friends."

"That was a good idea," MacRae nodded. "Laidlaw will certainly come if
it's possible."

"And I can keep cool cloths on his head and feed him broth and give him
the stuff Doctor Harper left. He said it depended mostly on his own
resisting power. If he could throw it off he would. If not--"

She turned her palms out expressively.

"How did you come?" she asked presently.

"Across from Qualicum in a fish carrier to Folly Bay. I borrowed a boat
at the Bay and rowed up."