"
CHAPTER XXI
THE PAYMENT
Doctor Jamieson did not at once return to his other duties. He
knew that in this case care and skill would for a time continue in
demand. Little sleep was accorded him during his first night.
Ammonia--whisky--what he had, he used to keep his patient alive;
but morning came, and Dunwody still was living. Morphine now
seemed proper to the backwoods physician; after this had done its
work, so that his patient slept, he left the room and wandered
discontentedly about in the great house, too tired to wake, too
strained to sleep.
"Old--old--it's an old, tumble-down ruin, that's what it is," he
grumbled. "Everything in sixes and sevens--a man like that--and an
ending like this to it all."
He had called several times before he could get any attendance from
the shiftless blacks. These, quick to catch any slackening in the
reins of the governing power which controlled their lives, dropped
back into unreadiness and pretense more and more each hour.
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