He had no patience with these forces arrayed against him.
At last the doctor whispered to Sewell: "It's no use; he must have the
brandy, or he can't live an hour."
Sewell weakened; the tears fell down his rough, hard cheeks. "It'll ruin
him-it's ruin or death."
"Trust a little more in God, and in the man's strength. Let us give him
the chance. Force it down his throat--he's not responsible," said the
physician, to whom saving life was more than all else.
Suddenly there appeared at the bedside Arrowhead, gaunt and weak, his
face swollen, the skin of it broken by the whips of storm.
"He is my brother," he said, and, stooping, laid both hands, which he had
held before the fire for a long time, on Jim's heart. "Take his feet,
his hands, his, legs, and his head in your hands," he said to them all.
"Life is in us; we will give him life."
He knelt down and kept both hands on Jim's heart, while the others, even
the doctor, awed by his act, did as they were bidden. "Shut your eyes.
Let your life go into him. Think of him, and him alone.
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