300 CONFESSIONS OF A BEACHCOMBER 



when she would bask on the soft grey sand and smoke, 

 gazing across the placid bay and waiting for meal-times. 

 So no one took her sickness seriously. Subsequent in- 

 quiries, however, elicited the fact that " Little Jinny " had 

 eaten little or no tucker the day prior to Tom's application 

 for medicine on her behalf, and that she was really entitled 

 to sympathy of the most practical kind. But no one had 

 the least suspicion of the fact. Dinner-time came and she 

 did not appear, though she was strolling about the flat 

 below the house, apparently only a " little bit sick," as Tom 

 reported when he came up to his work. 



"That one all right to-morrow," was the reply to an 

 inquiry. 



But at five o'clock Tom visited his hut, and hurried 

 back for medicine. " Little Jinny " was very bad. We 

 went down with remedies that seemed fit from his diagnosis 

 of the case and description of the symptoms, and there lay 

 " Little Jinny," obviously dying. She had never complained 

 nor whimpered when Tom's heavy hand had corrected her, 

 though the dried trickle of blood had been seen on her 

 forehead, and now that she lay a-dying, with her figure 

 strangely swollen, she moaned only when Tom, with his 

 heavy hand, sought to squeeze out the dead man, " all the 

 same like debil-debil," who was, according to him, the 

 cause of the trouble. 



But it was all too implacable and crafty a " debil-debil " 

 for Tom to cast out. We did our best with brandy and 

 steaming flannels ; but it was all so useless, for none under- 

 stood the sickness, or how to prescribe a remedy that 

 might be effective. Our helplessness was grievous. We 

 could only repeat the sips of brandy and water, and 

 endeavour to warm the chilly little body with steamy flannels. 



All did something. Even Nelly, the second best 

 wife, who had had to play a very subordinate part in the 

 camp, and whom "Little Jinny" had slapped and had 

 abused with all the volubility of spite and temper, crouched 

 beside her dying rival, chafing her cold hands and warming 

 her cheeks. 



