University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

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THE REDWOOD 15 How like her mother she looked ! How ethereal she seemed! How delicately chiselled every feature, and how he worshipped her! A strange satisfaction and peace thrilled his bosom to-night. But some- thing was worrying him, too. Oh, yes, that antitoxin. But his worry was sheer folly, he told himself. He would banish all fears from his mind. As he stood looking at his little girl, she opened her eyes. He folded her in his arms and kissed her gently. So frail, and delicate, and beautiful, he thought. Just a strayed cherub gracing the world for a time by her presence. Come on, Ray, he called, at length. Time to quit work. They were sitting by the fireside now, the three, and Ray was telling of the day ' s adventures. Gee, but that tall fellow with the dirty turban got my angora, he said. Do you know what he did? Why, he climbed up on the highest part of the bridge when all the people were pray- ing, and he jumped into the water. He was pretty near drowned all right, an ' when they pulled him out, he said it was Allah ' s will, an ' that he offered his life to Allah, but Allah thought he wasn ' t good enough, and — And then he ran over to his wife and he was going to throw their little baby in the river, chirped in Dolly, and the others wouldn ' t let him and the lady was so glad when she got her dear little baby back again. Huh, it looked more like a little black pig to me, said Ray. Marsh enjoyed their chatter, but to- night he somehow felt that all was not well with his children. Their eyes seemed unnaturally bright, as they talked, and little Dolly on his knee was more restless than usual. He felt for her pulse. Much faster than normal. Do you feel sick, Dolly? No, just kind of tired. I feel kind of funny, myself, said Ray. I don ' t know — like something holding me down. Let ' s feel your pulse, Ray. Beat- ing unusually fast! Marsh stood up. He felt as if a crushing weight were oppressing him. You children must go to bed, he said, striving and yet fearing to ac- count for their strange malady. I guess we ' d better, pa, answered Ray. When Marsh came from his inner of- fice with a palliative and a thermome- ter, his hand was trembling slightly. It cost him an effort to enter the bed- room. A cloud was darkening his brow and as he proceeded in his exam- ination of the symptoms, it assumed yet blacker proportions. Deep in his heart, almost deeper than he could fathom, he knew. But no, it was im- possible. Just some slight illness had come. And all the time the cloud was growing, growing. An ' down by the house of Abdul, the tent-maker, the little kids were hol- lerin ' an ' singin ' , too. We played around a little with them. Ray ' s words came back to him now, and linked with them were the

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14 THE REDWOOD morning. They will require at least one day to prepare it. Then it will take almost a day to reach here. Hope no bad case develops in the mean- time. He heard a clanking of bottles in the next room. Hello, Ray, is that you? Yea, pa. You may come in here, if you want to. Here I am. Hey, pa, you oughta seen those fellows down by the Nile to-night. Gee! they were actin ' like regular monkeys, dancin ' an ' singin ' an ' cuttin ' didoes an ' praisin ' Jehovah or whatever you call Him. An ' down by the house of Abdul, the Tent-maker, the little kids were hollerin ' an ' sing- in ' , too. We played around a little with them. And when the Muezzin called them, they all turned their faces to the East an ' prayed and thanked God that Hakim Marsh came along to drive off the plague — and everything. At first the doctor was rather alarmed at the feverish gleam in the boy ' s eye, but he attributed it to ex- citement, and stood listening to his story, smiling amusedly. How he loved his boy! Ray was a regular southern Marsh all right. A thoroughbred with lots of Southern fire, and lots of spirit. Time was when Marsh had feared that the old family name was doomed to extinction. And then Ray had come bringing hopes for the future. He would uphold the ancient traditions of his race. Yes, the boy meant a lot to Marsh, for the one and all consuming desire of the doctor ' s life was to give the world a worthy successor to the family name. Well, Ray, he said at length, ' ' that ' s very interesting. Do you think you ' ll be a doctor some day, like pa? Yea, of course, whatcha got in that bottle? That ' s some antitoxin. Just one bottle-full left, and all these empty. You haven ' t got much, have you? Just enough to save one life. Grim words those. The black curtains parted, and Ma- hommed Selim appeared. Salaam, effendi. What news, Mahommed? My news, Saadat, is of the best. Your hand is strong. The Black Death has all but fled. In the great register to-day there is recorded but one death. Abdul, the tent-maker, alone has gone to the gardens of Allah. ' ' So be it, Mahommed. Soon all will be well. You may go and join your brothers in the mosque. Salaam, effendi. And the dark figure bowed from the room. Marsh turned again to his sturdy boy and watched him mixing some liquids in a bottle. Then he grew sud- denly apprehensive. Where ' s little sister, Ray? She ' s in there, sleeping, he said. Marsh tiptoed through the curtains. There lay his little angel, dreaming.

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16 THE REDWOOD words of Mahommed Selim, The Black Death has all but fled. In the great register to-day there is recorded but one death. Abdul, the tent-maker, alone has gone to the gardens of Al- lah. Marsh had now stumbled from the room. His senses were swimming, and he was choking with emotion. It ' s true — true, he cried, wildly. A devilish ungodly spectre had en- tered his house. The Black Death had stricken his two children. He dragged himself to his office and sank limply into a chair. Then, with a superhuman effort he straightened himself. The antitoxin must be injected with- in an hour, or both his children — yes, his own children, sweet little Dolly and sturdy Ray— were doomed to a certain and speedy death. Another thought came now, and plunged him from black despair into the deepest hell. Pate was strangling him. He had but one jar of antitoxin, and he could save but one life. The other must be sacrificed! He gazed far out over the broaden- ing desert. Everything seemed to be at peace. Ah! peace, he said, slow- ly, bitterly. Everything is at peace. How he felt the mocking irony of those words ! The happy songs of the tired fellaheen carried by the freshening breeze and mingling with the musical wash of the Nile, floated through the casement, modulated, softened, sweet- ened. Far off on the parched desert he could see the dimly outlined Sphinx with its eternal question. How vividly it pictured his own plight ! He pressed his cold palm to his burning forehead, and whispered softly, God help me to answer my question. Vaguely he felt there was no answer. He was groping in a dungeon. He looked up at the heavens and saw black clouds brooding low like the shadow of impending doom. Suddenly he seemed to behold two great clouds break asun- der and drift slowly apart. And what was that behind? Great God! A hearse black as death ! A mountainous hearse moving slowly, mournfully along the sky lanes. A dim, sombre hearse, its plumes waving weirdly in the whispering breeze ! In that hearse, the figment of his disordered imagination, yet how real, how persistent, one of his own chil- dren would surely lie. There was no escape. The Black Death was no re- specter of persons. He had but one jar of antitoxin — enough to save one life. Yes, he must choose either the boy or the girl. And now his dying wife ' s words came back to him with sudden, vivid force : And you will care for little Dolly always, and love her more than your own life? Yes, he had answered, huskily. Could he break his promise now? Then he must save Dolly and let Ray die? Ray, his boy, the heir to the family name, the sturdy lad who would