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“Is your patient very ill, doctor?” inquired the cashier, privately and with a certain dread.

“I want Baker,” said the doctor, somewhat shortly.

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Send me Baker instantly.”

The physician had a secret of life and death. To treat it wisely he required confidants of courage, sagacity, patience, tact, and prompt action. There were only two to whom he should impart it,–one was the proprietor and the other the man from Georgia.

When Baker had come the physician led him up-stairs to the floor which held the patient’s room, brought him to the window at the end of the corridor and turned him so that the light fell full upon his face.

“Baker, can you keep a secret?”

“Me?”

“Yes; can you keep a secret?”

“Well, let me tell you about it; I don’t know; mebbe I can.”

“Have you ever seen people die?”

“Oh, yes, sir!”

“A great many in the same house?”

“Yes, sir; yes, sir.”

“Baker,” said the physician, placing his hand gently on the broad shoulder before him, and looking the man earnestly in the eyes, and speaking very impressively–“Baker, are you afraid to die?”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Die?”

“Yes.”

There was no expression whatever upon his patient, gentle face. He gazed past the physician through the window and made no reply.

“Are you afraid of death, Baker?”

“Who? Me?”

“Yes.”

There was no sign that he would answer the question or even that he comprehended it. He shifted his gaze to his upturned boot-toes and communed with them, but still kept silence.

“There is a man here, Baker, who is very ill, and I think that he will die. I want some one to help me take care of him. If you go into his room, perhaps you, too, will die. Are you afraid to go?”

“Was you a-talkin’ ’bout wantin’ me to wait on him?”

“Yes.”

A brighter look came into Baker’s face and he said:

“Oh, now, I’ll tell you; I’ll go.”

They entered the stranger’s room and found him suffering terribly. The physician already had put him under vigorous treatment, but he was rapidly growing worse. Baker regarded him attentively a moment, and then felt his pulse and put his hand on the sufferer’s forehead. A look of intelligence came into his sad, earnest face, but there was not a trace of pallor or fear. He beckoned the physician to follow him out to the passage, and the two went aside, closing the door.

“He’s a-goin’ to die,” said Baker, simply and quietly.

“Yes; but how do you know?”

“Well, I’ll tell you about that; I know.”

“Have you seen it before?”

“Hunderds.”

“Are you afraid of it?”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, well, they all ought to know it,” he said, with a sweep of his hand towards the corridors.

“Hurry and find Mr. Clayton first and bring him to me.”

Baker met Mr. Clayton at the main entrance below and beckoned him to follow. He led the way into a dark room stored with boxes and then into the farther corner of it. There he stood Mr. Clayton with his back against the wall and looked straight into his face. His manner was so mysterious, and there was so strange an expression in his face,–a kind of empty exaltation it seemed,–and his familiarity in touching Mr. Clayton’s person was so extraordinary, that that gentleman was alarmed for Baker’s sanity. Then Baker leaned forward and whispered one terrible word,–

” Cholery! “

Cholera! Great God! No wonder that Mr. Clayton turned deathly pale and leaned heavily against the wall.

At midnight the stranger died, and none in the house had heard of the frightful danger which had come to assail them. The physician and Baker had been with him constantly, but their efforts had availed nothing; and after preparing him for the grave they went out and locked the door. Mr. Clayton was waiting for them. The anxious look in the faces of the two gentlemen was intensified; Baker’s evinced nothing but calm consciousness of responsibility. The guests were slumbering.

“We must alarm the house,” whispered Mr. Clayton.

The doctor shook his head sadly. “If we do,” he said, “there will be a panic; and, besides, the night air of these mountains is very cool, and if they go from their warm beds into it, likely without taking time to dress, the danger will be great.”