Only careful nursing counted for anything. Without money,
without price, without a murmur the father gave his life to this work.
No neighbor within five miles was stricken that he did not find a place
by that bedside in fearless, loving, unselfish service.
And when Death came, this simple friend went for his tools, cut down a
tree, ripped the boards from its trunk, made the coffin, and with tender
reverence dug a grave and lowered the loved one. He was doctor, nurse,
casket-maker, grave-digger, comforter and priest. His reverent lips had
long known the language of prayer.
With tireless zeal the mother joined in this ministry of love, and the
Boy saw her slender dark figure walk so often beside trembling feet as
they entered the valley of the great shadow, that he grew to believe
that she led a charmed life. Nor did he fear when Dennis came one
morning and in choking tones said that both his uncle and aunt were
stricken in the little half-faced camp but a few hundred yards away. He
was sorry for Dennis. He had never known father or mother--only this
uncle and aunt.
"Don't you worry, Dennis," the Boy said tenderly. "You'll live with us
if they die."
They both died within a few days. The night after the last burial,
Dennis crawled into the loft with the Boy to be his companion for many a
year.
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