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.