Seizing his flint and steel he kindled a light and found Blanche in a raging fever.
"Blanche, Blanche, you are ill!" said John.
"I am so hot, I burn with thirst," she answered.
"You shall have water." There was a spring of clear, cold water flowing down from the mountain, and John took an earthen jar, and ran to fill it.
"It is so good of you," the sick woman sighed, as he moistened her fevered lips.
John Stevens was now very anxious about her, for she was growing rapidly worse.

He knew a little about medicine and had brought some remedies from the ship; but the disease which had fastened itself on Blanche defied his skill.

She was at times seized with a fit of coughing which almost took away her breath.

When he had exhausted all his efforts, she said sweetly: "You can do no more." "Blanche, Blanche," he almost sobbed, "Heaven knows I would give my life to spare you one pang." "I know it," she answered.
"What will you have me do ?" "Sit by my side." He brought a stool and sat by her bedside.
"Hold my hand, I have such frightful dreams, and I want you near." He took the little fevered hand in his own and for hours sat by her side.
Morning came and went, came and went again, and she grew worse.
John never left her save to bring cold water to slake her burning thirst, or prepare some remedy to check the ravages of the fever.
"Oh, God! to be left alone--to be left all alone! Can I endure it ?" he sighed.

When he was at her side, he said: "It was the journey to Snow-Top.