one night jim travers talked a great deal in his sleep. his tossing awoke tom gordon several times and caused him some anxiety, which was increased when he touched his friend's cheek and found him suffering with a burning fever. toward morning jim's restlessness partly subsided, and he fell into a fitful slumber. tom dropped off, and did not awake until he heard his friend astir.

"what's the matter?" asked the elder, sitting up in bed and looking in a scared way at jim, who having partly dressed himself, was sitting on the side of the couch.

"i don't know; i feel awful queer; my head is light; i saw father and sister maggie last night: did you see anything of them?"

"no; you were dreaming."

"they were here; father came in the room and looked at me, but did not speak and went away, but maggie took hold of my hand and asked me to go with her. wasn't it strange, tom, that she should come back after all these years? i saw her as plain as i do you."

tom was frightened. swallowing a lump in his throat, and hiding his agitation as best he could, he said gently,--

"jim, you are ill. lie down on the bed again and i'll call mrs. pitcairn."

"i'm afraid there is something the matter with me," muttered the younger lad, lying down, his face flushed and his eyes staring. he said something which showed his mind was wandering and he had become flighty.

tom hastily donned his clothing and hurried downstairs to the farmer's good wife, who lost no time in coming to the room of the boys. by this time jim had lost all knowledge of his surroundings. he was muttering and saying all sorts of strange things, speaking of his father, of his sister maggie, and even of his mother, who died when he was a very small boy.

mrs. pitcairn had no children of her own, but she had had great experience in the sick-room. she saw, almost at a glance, that jim travers was suffering from a violent and dangerous fever. she prepared him a bitter but soothing draught of herbs, and told her husband a physician must be brought without delay.

farmer pitcairn felt a strong affection for the two lads, whose singular coming beneath his roof has been told. he was as much concerned as his wife, and, harnessing his horse, drove off at a swift pace for the family doctor, who appeared on the scene a couple of hours later.

"he is ill, very ill," said the physician; "his fever is of a typhus character, though not strictly that. there has been considerable of it this spring and summer in new york."

"is it contagious?" asked the farmer.

"somewhat; though it seems to be more of the nature of an epidemic; that is, it travels through the air, appearing without special reason at one place, and then at another. we have had three cases in the neighborhood the past fortnight."

"what was the result?" asked mrs. pitcairn.

"one was mrs. wilson, an elderly lady; the other her grandson, and a nephew of mr. chisholm," replied the doctor, not answering the question.

"what was the result?" repeated mr. pitcairn for his wife.

the doctor shook his head, and, with his eyes on the flaming face of jim travers, whispered,--

"all three died within twenty-four hours after being taken."

tom gordon's eyes filled with tears.

"o doctor! is it as bad as that?"

"i am sorry to say it is. we shall hope for the best with this young man. give him the medicine every hour, and i will call again this evening. you have all been exposed to whatever danger there is in the air, so you need not be alarmed."

"it wouldn't make any difference about that," said tom; "i'm going to stay with him, and do all i can. i don't care whether or not i catch the fever."

"that is more creditable to your heart than your head. don't forget," said the doctor, speaking to all, "to watch yourselves closely. at the first appearance of headache, ringing in the ears, and fever, take those powders that i have left on the stand. this is one of the cases where an ounce of prevention is worth a good many pounds of cure. nothing more can be done for the boy than to follow the prescription i have given you. i will be here again in the evening, unless he should become much worse, when you can send for me."

tom gordon will never forget that day and night. he refused to leave the bedside of his friend except for a few minutes. the farmer and his wife were equally faithful, and did all they could for the sufferer, whose condition seemed to show a slight improvement toward the latter part of the afternoon. so much so indeed that all felt hope.

jim slept at intervals, but continually muttered and flung himself about. there were flashes of consciousness, when he would look fixedly at those around his bed, and smile in his winning way. he thanked them for their kindness, and hoped he would get well; but he had never felt so strange. it seemed as if his head was continually lifting his body upward, and he was so light he could fly.

after lying this way for some minutes, his hand, which rested in that of tom's, would suddenly tighten with incredible strength, and he would rise in bed and begin a wild, incoherent rambling, which filled the hearts of the others with anguish.

it was just growing dusk, when jim, who had exchanged a few words of sense with his weeping friend, said, lying motionless on his pillow, and without apparent excitement,--

"tom, i'm dying."

"o jim! don't say that," sobbed the broken-hearted lad. "you must get well. you are young and strong; you must throw off this sickness: keep up a good heart."

the poor boy shook his head.

"it's no use. i wish i had been a better boy; but i've said my prayers night and morning, and tried to do as mother and father used to tell me to do. tom, try to be better; i tell you, you won't be sorry when you come to die."

"no one could have been better than you, jim," said the elder, feeling more calmness than he had yet shown. he realized he was bending in the awful shadow of death, and that but a few more words could pass between him find the one he loved so well.

"i haven't been half as good as i ought to--not half as good as you, tom."

"o jim! you should not say that."

"he is right," whispered mrs. pitcairn, standing at the foot of the bed, beside her husband; "he will be with us but a few minutes longer. how do you feel," she asked gently, "now that you must soon go, jim?"

"i am sorry to leave you and tom, but it's all right. i see mother and maggie and father," he replied, looking toward the ceiling; "they are bending over me, they are waiting to take my hand; i am glad to be with them--tom, kiss me good-by."

with the tears blinding his eyes, and holding the hot hand within his own warm pressure, tom gordon pressed his lips on those of jim travers, and, as he held them there, the spirit of the poor orphan wanderer took its flight.

the door gently opened a minute later and the physician stepped inside. one glance told him the truth.

"i knew it was coming when i looked at him this morning," he remarked, in a soft, sympathetic voice. "nothing could save him. how do you all feel?"

it seemed cruel to ask the question of the three all standing in the presence of death; but it was professional and it was wise, for, by pressing it, he withdrew their thoughts from the overwhelming sorrow that was crushing them.

tom gordon had flung himself on the bed with uncontrollable sorrow. one arm lay over the breast and partly round the neck of the body, which breathed no longer, and whose face was lit up by a beatific smile; for jim travers was with mother and maggie and father, and they should go out no more forever.