Jimtown's Bride [pp. 374-386]

JIMTOWN'S BRIDE.
There's a lot of people down there who
have n't a sign of a shelter. I ran up to
see what we could do for them Do you
think you could stow them away some where for the rest of the night? There
are some women and children among
them, and this seems to be the only hab itable place left."
" Certainly, we'11 take in all we can.
Tell them to come up and we'11 make
room for them somehow. But, Jack, you
look ill. You are not hurt? 0, your
hands! Are they burned, Jack?"
"Never mind. I must hurry back."
And he ran down the steps, down the
hill, and out of sight in the smoking,
cloudy blackness of the night.
In fifteen minutes he was back, and
with him a curious company of lumbermen, saloon keepers, subdued women in
loud apparel, and an occasional child
with apparently no connection with the
rest of the crowd. Fortunately for themselves, the Dwight House had been
closed for two weeks, and sometime before the fire originated, all tourists took
their departure.
Jimtown alone had suffered.
Throwing wide open the doors, Maud
urged the homeless citizens to find what
rest they could, and without waiting to
see them settled, turned to bind up and
soothe her husband's painful wounds.
She tore the rude bandages from his
hands and with gentle, careful fingers
applied the simple remedies her house
afforded. Then, when she had watched
him fall into the sound sleep of exhaustion, she wandered through the house,
finding many another scorched hand tormenting its owner into wakefulness, and
tenderly she bound them up and allayed
their suffering.
As she left the room where Bill Morrison lay stretched on the floor, a big
bandage wound around his forehead, and
one arm in a sling, he turned over and
remarked to his nearest neighbor, " I tell
yer what't is, Jake, Jimtown knowed
what she wuz about when she imported
that woman."
Several weeks passed by, weeks of
dire confusion in the house on the hill,
weeks of destruction and creation in the
valley below; and a new Jimtown arose
out of the ashes of the Dwight boom.
When the last grateful guest had de parted, the mayor's household quietly
resumed its former uneventful routine,
with one exception. During the forced
confinement in the mayor's house, Teddy
and Bill Morrison became inseparable,
and after Morrison's departure for his
new quarters, Teddy was frequently
missing, and after frightened search,
usually discovered in Bill's little shanty
at the other end of the town. How he
learned its location or succeeded in
finding his way there, remained a mystery.
One afternoon; as the Claycomb
household was about to start en masse
in search of Teddy, who, a half hour
before, was supposed to be contentedly
playing in the back yard, Bill Morrison
climbed the long hill, bearing a precious
burden in his arms. Maud, catching
sight of his white face and the child she
knew must be her own, flung open the
door and ran down the steps to meet
him. He tenderly laid the boy in her
arms.
"Not dead?" she gasped.
"No, he ain't dead, Ma'am. He ain't
dead. Jes' fainted. He'11 come round
all right in a nour er so. Jes' give him
time." But the nonchalant air Bill attempted to assume was in strange keeping with his white face.and trembling
hands.
Hurrying into the house, Maud laid
her boy on a couch, unloosed his waist,
and felt for the little heart she feared
had stopped beating forever. After a
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