He was lying upon the bed, his little curly head resting upon
the pillow as white as his own white face. Would he ever come out of that
stupor? they asked each other time and time again as they sat and watched
him. Often he talked, calling aloud for help, and pleading for someone to
hurry. Now it was of Tony and again Nellie and Parson John. Occasionally
he mentioned his father, and asked why he was so long in coming. The
doctor stood by the bedside with an anxious face.
"Do you think he will recover?" Nellie asked.
"I can't say," was the reply. "He has been badly injured. But we should
know soon one way or the other. This condition can't go on much longer."
It was hard for Nellie to persuade her father to take any rest. He would
insist upon sitting by the bed, and holding Dan's hand.
"Poor, dear boy," he murmured. "Why did you do it? Why did you run such a
risk for my sake?"
Once coming quietly into the room Nellie saw her father kneeling by the
bedside. His lips were moving in silent prayer. In his heart a deep love
had been formed for this little wounded lad. For months past the two had
been much together, and the bond of affection had been strongly formed.
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