He sat there for a long
time before he was able to shut off the light and creep into bed, with
his tear-wet cheek pillowed upon one telegram, and a wrinkled hand
closely clasping the other, as though holding fast to the message meant
the keeping of the hope it brought.
Utterly exhausted, he slept until noon. When he woke, it was with the
feeling that something vitally important had happened. He could not
remember what it was until he heard the rustling of paper and saw the
two telegrams. He read them once more, in the clear light of day,
fearing to find the message but a fantasy of the night. To his unbounded
relief, it was still there--no dream of water to the man dying of
thirst, but a living reality that sunlight did not change.
"Thank God," he cried aloud, sobbing for very joy, "Thank God!"
Meanwhile, the Resourceful One had shown the nurse how to cut a sleeve
out of one of Allison's old coats, and open the under-arm seam. Having
done this, she was requested to treat a negligee shirt in the same way.
Then the village barber was sent for, and instructed to do his utmost.
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