“You reckon he’s plumb dade?” David could feel the child’s heart beating in a heavy labored way against his arm as he held him, and, pushing his papers one side, he lifted him to his knee.

“Do I reckon who’s dead?” he asked absently, with his ear pressed to the child’s back.

“The devil what you done brought home in yuer box.”

“Dead? Oh, yes. He’s dead — good and dead. Sit still a moment — so — now take a long breath. A long one — deep — that’s right. Now another — so.”

“What fer?”

“I want to hear your heart beat.”