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DISCLAIMER:
Catherine Marshall's beautiful story of Christy is owned by the LeSourd 
family.  I am in no way seeking profit or credit for her story.  I am 
continuing the story of Christy for my own amusement only.  Any 
additions in story line and characters were invented by the writer.
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Title:  It Only Takes A Spark, Part 1
Summary:  13 year-old Neil wants to join the city doctors' hunting trip
Author: Annie 
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The boy stood with his hands deep in his pockets, kicking at the loose 
bark of a fallen tree.  He didn't want the older man to think he was 
crying, so he kept his eyes focused on the rotting chunks that his bare 
toes dislodged until he could speak without a tremor in his voice.  The 
man, sitting on the steps of his cabin, didn't look up from cleaning the 
rifle he held on his lap.

"Uncle Jaspar, I kin holp you with them city fellers."  He tried to 
sound confident.  "I'm strong enough to tote their guns, an I kin run 
errands and sech for 'em."  He raised his eyes briefly to his uncle's 
face, and was immediately disappointed by what he saw.

"I said no, boy," was the blunt answer.  He calmly finished oiling and 
checking the rifle.  "These doctors come here all the way from New York 
City and Philadelphy.  They're payin' me t' guide 'em to prime huntin' 
land, and they don't want no young'uns traipsin' around, gittin' in the 
way."  He softened his tone a little when he saw the boy wiping his eyes 
on his sleeves.  "Looky here, Neil.  Yer a fine hunter, and wiry and 
strong fer yer size.  Mebby when ya fleshen up some, I kin let ya come.  
But yer jes' too scrawny now.  How old'r ya?"

"Nigh on fourteen," he exaggerated.  He stood up straight, making 
himself as tall as possible.

"I recollect I were near 'bout that age when I begun to sprout up.  The 
same with yer daddy and yer Uncle Cade what was kilt in the War Between 
the States."  Jaspar MacNeill stood up now, and began to climb the steps 
to the porch.  "Don't git all vexed," he said over his shoulder.  "Them 
doctors was here huntin' once't a'reddy - hit were four-five year ago.  
They'll come back agin."  He paused at the doorway.  "You best be 
gittin' home to yer chores now.  Yer momma'll be lookin' fer ya."

"Yessir."  The boy sighed, but before he turned to go he asked, "Uncle 
Jaspar?  When'r they comin' to the cove?"

The older man looked at him sharply and turned back toward the yard, 
propping his rifle against a chair.  "Com'eer, boy."  He sternly crossed 
his arms on his chest as Neil climbed the stairs.  "What is it yer 
wantin'?"

"I was jes' wonderin' when they was comin', is all."  He spoke 
haltingly, not sure how to explain himself.  "City doctors prob'ly went 
to them doctor-schools ya tol' me 'bout.  I wisht I knowed what hit's 
like t' have all that book larnin'."  He ran his hand through his 
uncombed, curly hair, squeezing the ends in his fist.  "I reckon if I 
could earn me some cash money, I might git me a book -"

"Neil," his uncle interrupted, "listen up good now.  I cain't have you 
botherin' these fellers about yer precious books.  They're comin' t' 
Cutter Gap fer huntin' an' fishin' - not fer teachin'."  He mussed the 
boy's hair affectionately and thumped his chest with the back of his 
hand.  "Ya hear?"

"Yessir."  No further words were necessary.  Neil jumped back down to 
the yard, and gave the dead tree a final kick as he passed.

 * * *

"Neil, is that you?"  Ruthie MacNeill glanced around as she heard 
someone entering the cabin.  "Fetch me some wood fer the stove, will 
ya?"

"Okay, momma."  He went back outside to the woodpile and brought in an 
armload of firewood.  As he stacked the logs next to the stove, she 
nodded toward the bucket.

"An' water."  He grunted, emptied what was left into a basin, and headed 
for the river.  When he'd replaced the full bucket, he sat down at the 
table and watched his mother as she prepared supper.

She noticed his long face, and asked, "Ya awright?"  When he only nodded 
in answer, and then looked away, she decided not to press him further.  
His features brightened when she dipped a piece of bread into her 
venison stew and offered it to him.

Light footsteps running up to the porch and into the cabin announced the 
arrival of Neil's sister Becky.  "Pa's jes' comin' down the hill!"  
She'd been watching for his return from the field as she did every 
evening, and now she turned and ran back outside to greet him.  Neil 
rose and followed her.

When Becky reached her father, he swung her up lightly over his head, 
and brought her down gently on the back of the mule he'd been leading.  
The little girl laughed and kicked her heels against the mule's sides, 
but it was used to this ritual, and continued its plodding pace behind 
Owen MacNeill toward the cabin.

Neil met them in the yard, and began to remove the harness from the mule 
as his father carried Becky up onto the porch.  Ruthie came out of the 
cabin and gazed at the river for a minute before turning toward her 
husband, who was now relaxing in the rocking chair.  She reached out to 
brush back the strands of wavy hair from her husband's eyes.  "High time 
I cut yer hair.  And you too, Neil," she said, looking down into the 
yard at her son.  Neil rolled his eyes as he led the mule to the 
lean-to, but said nothing.

Later, as they sat down to supper, Ruthie noticed that serious, 
thoughtful look on Neil's face again, and knew what he was thinking.  
Neil waited until grace was said and the food served before he spoke up.

"Pa, I'd like to git me t' that school in El Pano t'morrer, if that's 
awright with you."  He had a list of arguments ready, and looked at his 
father now to try and gauge how many he'd have to use.  His father's 
initial reaction wasn't favorable, so Neil added, "Hit's been near a 
month since I was there last.  I kin git all my chores done afore I go."

Owen's eyebrow rose, but he continued to eat for a minute before 
answering.  "Thought ya was mighty quick t' holp with the mule," he 
grumbled.  "Son, why'r ya so all-fired set on schoolin'?  Mind ya, I 
ain't agin it, but cain't ya a'ready read an' write?  Yer momma teached 
ya and yer sister from the Good Book - what more are ya needin'?"  He 
looked across at his wife, but she was intent on smoothing Becky's hair.

The boy leaned forward eagerly.  "Pa," he answered, "there's a heap more 
to larn than jes' the Bible.  There's 'rithmatic an' science an' 
hist'ry.  Uncle Jaspar says folks go t' these city schools, and they 
don't do nothin' but study and larn.  They got whole buildin's that's 
filled with books!  There's books wrote in nothin' but Latin.  An' 
there's schools jes' fer doctorin' -"

"Easy, boy!"  Owen had to smile at his son's enthusiasm.  "Awright, 
then!  You kin go t' school t'morrer, though I doubt ya'll be a doctor 
when ya git back."  He chuckled and winked at his wife.  "But don't come 
askin' every day now - I'm gonna need yer holp in another couple weeks 
t' git the corn in.  Yer Uncle Jaspar depends on ya, too, now that his 
boy Hank's gone off after yer brother, workin' fer the railroad."

Neil grinned with relief.  "Yessir.  Thanks, Pa."  Ruthie stood and 
refilled the plates of her husband and son.  Before resuming her seat, 
she brushed her fingers through the hair of each.  Becky turned up her 
face for a kiss as her mother came by.

"And you, Missy, you been rubbin' yer eyes agin, I kin tell," Ruthie 
said to the little girl.  "I keep warnin' ya it'll only worsen with the 
rubbin'."

"But Momma," she protested, "I cain't holp it!  My eyes itch sompthin' 
fierce when the spell comes on."  The rims of her eyes were red and 
irritated.

Neil answered her, "I know it pains ya, Becky, but ya got t' try.  When 
we're done here, I'll git ya a bowl so's ya kin wash some warm water on 
'em.  That'll ease the itchin' some - won't it, Momma?"

His mother nodded and reached out to stroke the little girl's sandy hair 
once again.

 * * *

The next morning, Neil was up before the sun, chopping wood and carrying 
water to his mother's garden and her washing kettle in the yard.  He 
threw hay down for the mule and scattered grain for the chickens.  By 
the time he came back into the cabin with a bucket of water for the 
kitchen, breakfast was ready.  While he ate, his mother wrapped 
cornbread, hard cheese and an apple into a cloth for him to carry.  His 
shoes, though he hardly ever wore them, were battered and perilously 
thin-soled.  He put them on now, slipped the lunch into his coat pocket, 
took his only book, an old plane geometry text, and began the seven-mile 
walk to the school in El Pano.

Class had already begun by the time he arrived.  He slipped into the 
back and took a seat on the boy's side.  The teacher there had come to 
expect him occasionally.  Knowing Neil's desire to learn, she tried to 
pack as much into the day as possible for his sake.  During the lunch 
recess she sat with him, going through a few chapters in a geography 
book from the school's tiny, one-shelf library.  She finally stopped to 
give him a few minutes to eat his lunch, but asked him to stay after 
school.

As the other children ran out, he approached her desk.  "Neil, I want 
you to take this book with you today," she said, holding out the 
geography book to him.

The boy's eyes lit up for a moment, but he answered firmly, "Thank you 
ma'am, but I cain't.  I got no money t' pay ya fer it, an' I cain't take 
no char'ty."  He took one step away, although his eyes were fastened on 
the book.

"Oh no!" she responded quickly.  "I didn't mean that at all!  I was 
hoping you'd trade me your geometry book for this one.  You see, Neil, 
we have so few books here, and none on geometry.  I know you've done all 
the exercises in the book, so if you could lend us the use of it for a 
while, it would be a great help to the other children."  She smiled 
sweetly at him.  "And you could always trade this one back whenever you 
want."

It was easy to persuade him.  Neil ran home clutching the book as though 
it were a treasure.  To him, it was.

 * * *

Neil and his friend Jeb Spencer lay on the porch of the Spencer's cabin, 
watching Jeb's father at the bee hives across the yard.  A sieve covered 
his face as a mask, while a cloth held on by his hat protected the rest 
of his head.  He wore gloves, and his sleeves and pant legs were tied, 
keeping out the bees which hovered and swarmed around as he gathered 
their honey.

Neil kept his eyes on Mr. Spencer as he spoke in a low voice to Jeb.  
"Where did ya see 'em?" he asked.  His chin rested on his crossed arms, 
and his bare feet dangled in the air.

"They was a-headin' over Pebble Mountain way," Jeb responded, also 
following his father's movements.  "That were yestiddy mornin'.  I 
reckon they been here five days now."

"How many of 'em was there?  What kind o' men was they?"  Neil was 
finally able to satisfy some of his curiosity about the doctors.

Jeb now rolled on his side to face Neil, bending his elbow to rest his 
head on his hand.  "Waal, I seen five of 'em, not countin' yer Uncle.  
They was wearin' boughten clothes an' shoes, and carryin' fancified 
knapsacks an' the like.  I couldn't git a good look at their guns, but 
I'll wager they was sompthin' rare, too."

Neil thought for a minute before asking, "Did they look like they lit a 
rag, or was they takin' their time?  I wonder how far they woulda got by 
now."

"Hmm. . .  I disremember," Jeb answered.  A light came into his eyes, 
and he sat up.  "Hey, Neil!  Let's git us a good look at them city 
fellers!  Hit prob'ly wouldn't be no trouble to track 'em.  Dacy!" he 
called into the cabin.  "Tell Momma I'm goin' off with Neil fer a 
spell."

They started out immediately, and within two hours had located the 
hunting expedition, making camp for the night.  Neil warned Jeb that his 
uncle didn't want them interfering, so the two boys lay behind some 
bushes as they spied on the doctors.

They were fascinated by the equipment they saw scattered about the camp 
as well as the clothes the men wore.  There was still enough daylight to 
see everything clearly, but were too far to hear the discussion at the 
campfire.

Neil couldn't take his eyes off the group of men.  "Looky, Jeb!" he 
whispered excitedly.  "D'ya see that little bitty shovel the big 
feller's got?  Hit were straight like a reg'ler spade, but he twisted 
sompthin', and now the head's tilted."  Neil pointed.  "See thar?  He's 
swingin' it like a pickax t' dig 'round the fire pit.  Say, how many 
doctors did ya say there was?  I see Uncle Jaspar and four of 'em."

"That little one's cuttin' open sompthin'," Jeb pointed out, too 
absorbed in his own observations to answer Neil.  "I think hit's a tin 
can.  Mr. Allen says city people put vittles in them things, like our 
Mommas do with preserves in jars.  What'd they do with the guns?  I 
cain't see a one from here."

"I wisht I could hear 'em," Neil said, straining his head forward.  
"D'ya think they be talkin' about doctorin' an' science and sech?"

A deep voice directly above them answered him.  "Well lads, why don't 
you come closer and find out?"  Neil and Jeb jumped with shock and fear.  
Jeb reacted faster than his friend, and rolled out of the man's reach.  
He jumped up and fled, calling back for Neil to do the same.  Neil 
didn't moved quickly enough, and was caught and pulled to his feet by 
the fifth doctor.

"Calm down, boy!  No one's going to hurt ye!"  The big, red-headed man 
spoke with a strange accent - it wasn't what Neil expected from a 
Northerner.  "Come along now - ye'll get your wish."  Neil struggled, 
but the man held him firmly and towed him along toward the others at the 
campfire.  Four of them looked with amusement at the man and boy, while 
Uncle Jasper was furious.

"It seems we're quite a curiosity, gentlemen!" Neil's captor joked.  
When they reached the others, the man turned to look at him.  "The 
bigger lad ran like the devil was chasing him!  This lucky fellow wants 
to talk medicine with us."  He loosened his grasp on the boy's arm as he 
asked, "Will ye stay?"  Neil immediately backed away a few steps, but 
was held by the man's eyes and by his strange accent.  "What's your 
name, lad?"

Neil glanced at his uncle before replying.  Jaspar had cooled a bit, 
seeing that the doctors weren't angry at the intrusion.  He frowned at 
the boy, but nodded slightly.  Neil turned back to meet the doctor's 
gaze.  "Neil MacNeill  -  sir," he answered.  He stayed alert, but felt 
he could trust this man.

Another doctor - the one Neil had seen with the swivel-head shovel - 
turned to grin at Jaspar.  "MacNeill, eh?  What a coincidence!  Is this 
your son?"  His accent was different from the red doctor's - he sounded 
like the Northerners Neil had occasionally seen passing through El Pano.

"My brother's," Jaspar answered briefly, squinting at Neil.  "I told 'im 
t' keep clear, but he's that long-headed.  A good switchin'll larn him 
to sneak in where he ain't wanted."

The smallest man in the camp now spoke up.  "Oh, I don't think he 
deserves a beating for being curious, Mr. MacNeill."  This was the 
doctor Jeb had seen opening the canned food - he still held the tin.  He 
beckoned to Neil.  "Well, Neil MacNeill, would you like to stay and get 
a good look at us?  You see we're just preparing our dinner - why don't 
you join us?"

The Yankee speech was so strange to his ears that it took a few moments 
before Neil comprehended the invitation.  Once again he looked to his 
uncle, and receiving a grudging nod, he accepted.  "Thank you, sir."  He 
reached into his coat pocket, drew out a chunk of hard cheese, and 
hesitantly offered it to the doctor.  The man took it, sniffed it, then 
smiled and dropped it into the stew that was simmering over the fire.

Neil didn't speak much at first as they cooked and ate.  He quickly 
accustomed himself to their accents, and determined that all but one 
were Northerners.  The big red-haired doctor, whose name was Healy, 
sounded very different and very interesting.  Neil repeated some of Dr. 
Healy's phrases softly to himself, rolling the r's and trying to imitate 
the inflection.  The smallest man, who was also the oldest, seemed to be 
the leader.  His name was Gatlin.  The others were called Kinnigan, 
MacDougall, and Paget.

Although Neil was still somewhat intimidated by the group of men, the 
doctors soon began to draw the boy out, questioning him about his life 
in Cutter Gap.  Dr. Healy was astounded at how little schooling he'd 
had.  "Ye've not been to school above two days in a month?" he 
thundered.  "Why is it your parents keep ye out?"

Neil glanced at his uncle, who was smoking his pipe and ignoring the 
whole conversation.  "The school's in El Pano, sir.  That's nigh on 
seven mile.  My pa wants me to git schoolin'," he added, feeling 
defensive.  "Hit's jes' that we got a heap o' work that's needin' to be 
done, and I cain't git over to El Pano more'n that.  But I got me a book 
on geography, an' I mean t' earn me enought t' buy another 'un."  He 
looked up at the doctor proudly.

The big man fell silent, and Dr. Gatlin turned toward him.  "How old is 
your boy, Healy?" he asked quietly.  "About like Neil here?"

"Just fourteen, and not any bigger than this lad," he answered, looking 
closely at Neil's patched, faded clothes and bare feet.  He stared at 
the fire for some time while the others continued talking to the boy.

Neil was comfortable enough now to begin asking the doctors about their 
work.  They took turns answering his questions as they lounged around 
the campfire, describing hospitals, surgery, medical school and many 
other things.  Neil was listening with round-eyed fascination when one 
of the doctors cried out in pain.  He'd been idly sharpening a stick 
when the knife slipped, slicing into the top of his thigh.

"Curse me for a clumsy fool!" he moaned.  Neil jumped to his feet, but 
then froze, staring as blood began to stain the man's trousers.

Dr. Gatlin was at the injured man's side immediately, examining the 
wound.  He looked up at the others.  "Well, who wants to do the honors?  
It's not deep except near the knee.  My guess is he'll need six or seven 
stitches.  Gordon," he added to Dr. MacDougall, "if you'll put some more 
water on to boil, I think we can get Dr. Nimble Fingers patched up."

Neil stared as the doctors quickly assembled a collection of bandages, 
bottles and clean cloths, as well as the hot water.  His panicky feeling 
eased as he observed their calm, orderly actions.  They even joked about 
the accident!

"So Robert," said Dr. Healy with a wink at Neil, "I wonder if the people 
who let ye operate on their eyes would be interested in hearing about 
this slip of the knife!"  The wounded man, Dr. Kinnigan, groaned in 
reply.  Dr. Healy clapped his arm around the boy's shoulders, and drew 
him forward.  "Sit down, lad.  Ye don't faint at the sight of blood, do 
ye?"

The tall red-haired man knelt beside Neil and explained what was going 
on before them.  Dr. Gatlin washed his hands carefully, then cleaned the 
wound and poured a brownish fluid onto it that made the injured man hiss 
with pain.  Another doctor opened a small leather case, and prepared a 
needle and thread.  Dr. Gatlin took the needle and made seven small silk 
loops along the wound, tying each off in a knot.  The dangerous-looking 
gash on the man's leg had quickly been reduced to a rather neat line.  
It was covered with clean cloths and then bound with bandages.

Dr. Gatlin finally washed his hands again.  He rose and stretched.  "I 
think you'll need something for the pain tonight, Robert.  And you'll 
have to miss the hunt tomorrow."  The injured doctor grumbled, but 
nodded his agreement.  They all looked up as Dr. MacDougall, the 
youngest of the group, entered the camp, holding out a pair of dripping 
trousers, which he'd just rinsed in the river.

"The blood's out," he grinned, "but they have quite a tear.  Can anybody 
here sew?"

As the doctors settled themselves around the fire once again, Neil 
marveled at their matter-of-fact behavior.  He turned to Dr. Healy, who 
was still beside him.  "Is he gonna be okay?  Ya don't need t' git him 
home or nothin'?"

"We'll keep the wound clean and covered to prevent infection," he 
answered.  "He'll have to rest his leg for a while, but there's no 
permanent damage."  Dr. Healy studied the boy's face for a moment, and 
then abruptly left him and rummaged among the packs.

The other doctors were explaining to Neil how the sutures would be 
removed, when a big hand patted his shoulder.  He looked up at Dr. 
Healy.  "Take a look here, Neil," he said, summoning the boy to the edge 
of the circle.  He turned so that Neil was facing away from the fire, 
and brought a book out from behind his back.  "Read me the title."

He held the book carefully, almost reverently, tilting it to catch the 
firelight.  "The Ant -eye -sep -tick Prince -pull, by Doctor Joseph 
Lister."  He sounded out the words, and then looked up questioningly at 
Dr. Healy.

"Antiseptic Principle."  He corrected the boy's pronuciation, and Neil 
repeated it back to him, copying his accent.  "Antiseptic means killing 
germs - the tiny things in the air or the water that cause diseases.  A 
principle is a law of science, a true teaching."  He paused to see 
whether Neil was following him.  "Dr. Lister is a surgeon.  He proved 
that antiseptics - carbolic acid - will keep wounds from becoming 
infected.  D'ye understand?"  He smiled at the earnest nod, although he 
knew that Neil could have no more than a vague idea.  "Good lad."

"I don't know why I brought this book along," Dr. Healy said softly, 
running his hand through his long unruly hair.  "I certainly never 
expected to open it."  He pursed his lips for a moment, and then 
continued.  "Neil, we've been here hunting once before, and I expect 
we'll return again someday.  I'm going to lend ye this book until I come 
back."

Neil held his breath and gazed at the book in his hands.  Finally he 
exhaled, and looked up at the big man.  "Thank ya kindly, sir.  I'm 
beholden to ya - but I cain't nohow take yer book.  Hit wouldn't be 
fitten'."  He reluctantly held it out toward Dr. Healy.

"Not fitting!"  The doctor's voice instantly rose to a roar that froze 
the boy.  "Not fitting!  Why ye young rascal!  Haven't we invited ye to 
our fire, and shared our dinner with ye?  Are ye so ungrateful?"  The 
other doctors were momentarily startled, but then smiled at their 
colleague's antics and his thickening brogue.  Jaspar had wrapped 
himself in his blanket once the excitement of the accident was over.  He 
was fast asleep.

The boy was intimidated. "Oh, no sir!  I'm real grateful!  It's jes' 
that -"

"Well then," Dr. Healy continued in a voice only slightly lower, "ye'll 
not defy me again.  I'll hear no more arguments.  Open the front of the 
book, Neil."  He pushed the cover back with his finger to reveal the 
flyleaf.  "What name do ye see written there?"

"James Stewart Healy," Neil read aloud.

"That's correct, and we'll not erase it from that place.  Will ye take 
good care of my book, Neil?"  His voice had grown mild again.

Everything had been settled before he realized it.  Neil was dazed with 
elation, and Dr. Gatlin took advantage of his condition to press on him 
another book which he'd brought along - a book of British history.  
Before they let him go home with his precious cargo, Dr. MacDougall 
pulled out a blank book for Neil to record his questions and notes.  "I 
meant to keep a journal of our trip, but I haven't touched a pencil to a 
single page," he explained sheepishly, handing the boy the pencil as 
well.

Neil tried to express his thanks as he took his leave of the doctors, 
but his voice choked, and he couldn't speak.  Dr. Healy extended his 
hand to the boy, who shook it eagerly.  The doctor reached out to rumple 
the boy's hair, and then rested his hand on Neil's shoulder.  "Study 
hard and learn as much as ye can, Neil MacNeill."


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Title:  It Only Takes A Spark, Part 2
Summary:  14 year-old Neil strives to improve himself and his home, but 
typhoid decimates the cove.  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Momma!  Neil's throwin' dirt at me!"

Neil straightened up from the hole he was digging and looked at his 
sister with exasperation.  "Waal, why don't ya git outer the way!  How 
kin I work here if'n yer sittin' right atop o' me?"  By now Ruthie 
MacNeill had come to the corner of the porch; brother and sister both 
looked up expectantly at her.

Ruthie crossed her arms and took in the scene.  Neil, stripped to the 
waist, was trying to shovel out a few more inches of dirt before supper.  
He'd announced in the early spring that they needed a well for drinking 
water, and had been planning, and then digging at his pet project for 
five months now.  Her son had grown taller lately, and the hard work was 
building up the muscles of his shoulders and arms.  She smiled with 
pride.

Becky was sitting on a large stone just a few feet from the edge of the 
hole, peering down inside as he dug.  "Becky hon', you come inside and 
holp Momma fer a while.  I'm jes' fixin' to make the cornbread."  She 
knew this was one of her daughter's favorite tasks.  "Yer eyes botherin' 
ya?"

The little girl fussed a bit, but she rose and slowly came around to the 
porch.  "Aww, Momma!  I jes' wanna watch Neil!"  Her mother repeated the 
question, and she replied, "They ain't terr'ble bad.  Hit's not too 
bright t'day."  On sunny days it was difficult for Becky to open her 
eyes outside, so the heavily overcast skies were a relief.

Neil worked steadily for nearly half an hour, attacking the heavy 
clayish soil with a pickax and then shoveling it out.  The hole was 
barely four feet deep, but it was considerable progress, all things 
considered.  Owen had allowed him to start the well, but insisted that 
he keep up his regular chores, which included those at home, for Uncle 
Jaspar and his wife, and for Aunt Hattie McHabe.  Neil started with 
great enthusiasm, but the back-breaking labor and the slow progress were 
discouraging to the young man, not quite fifteen years old.  Besides 
this, he continued to attend the school in El Pano two or three days 
each month, was reading all the books he could get his hands on, and 
found time to visit at the Spencer's most days.  Still, he managed to 
get in an hour of digging here and there.

He was just heaving a large rock up over the edge when he saw Becky 
approaching again, dragging a bucket and drinking gourd.  His mother 
stood at the window, so he knew she'd been sent out to him.  He drank 
deeply, and then poured a few gourdfuls over his head.  He thanked his 
sister; then with a mischievous grin he shook his head, spraying drops 
onto her.

"Neil!" she squealed, but she smiled and settled down on the same stone 
she'd used as a seat before.  "Neil, why'r ya diggin' this well when we 
got the river right over thar?"  She hugged her knees and propped her 
chin on them.

He leaned against the side of the wide hole, resting his arms on the 
ground.  He wouldn't have admitted it, but he was glad for a chance to 
stop.  "Ain't I told ya over an' over?  The water in the well comes from 
springs under the ground.  Hit's real pure.  River water looks purty an' 
all, but ya never know if sompthin' bad could be in thar."  He pointed 
toward the river below them.  "You an' Opal found that dead possum in 
the river, all tore up an' rottin', right?"  Becky's head bobbed up and 
down.  "Waal, jes' think if'n you was to drink the water right thar."

His little sister had heard this same lecture many times, but she was 
still disgusted by the idea.  "Lordy!  I never would!" she shuddered.

"Then how kin you be shore there ain't other things in the water, mebby 
worse?"  His voice took on a tone of authority.  "That book I got from 
the doctor last year, hit says that there's things so tiny ya cain't see 
'em, but they're in the air an' the water, and if they git inside ya, 
they kin make ya sick."

Becky responded, "But Pa says our water's better'n anywhere on the whole 
river.  Hit's so cold it kin make yer teeth ache.  Jes' look how it 
sparkles up roun' the rocks.  Ain't that wondrous?"  They both turned 
and looked down at the river for a while, and were enthralled by the 
sight and sound of the tumbling water.

"Neil!  Becky!"  Their mother called to them.  "Yer Pa'll be home soon.  
Git outer that mud hole and clean yerself up!"  Neil felt the soreness 
of his back as he climbed up, gathered his digging tools and the bucket, 
and headed toward the porch.  The shovel and pickax were tossed 
underneath, and the bucket was swung up.  In exchange, his mother handed 
down some clean clothes.

Neil started down the bank, but looked back at his sister.  "You git 
inside now, Becky.  Momma, I don't want her a-spyin' on me!"  Ruthie 
chuckled as she shepherded the little girl into the cabin.

At the river, Neil stripped and stepped into the swirling, foaming 
current.  He rinsed the worst of the mud off his pants and himself, 
ducking under the cold water.  After he dressed again, his dripping 
pants were hung over the porch rail to dry.  He sank into the rocker, 
and was on the point of dozing when his father arrived, leading the 
mule.

At supper Becky continued her questioning about the well.  "Neil, tell 
me agin, how did ya pick that spot fer the well?  Cain't it be closer to 
the cabin?"

"No, Becky," he explained, "because hit's got t' be sanitary - that 
means clear away from the outhouse, and on a high spot so's no mud 'r 
nothin'll run down inter it.  Mr. Jones, what runs the gen'ral store in 
El Pano, tol' me how t' dig it.  He's got hisself a well with a pump.  
And Grandam Spencer give me an' Jeb a divinin' rod, and we found the 
spot where the water'll be closest.  I reckon I'll reach water in 
another couple feet."

Now Owen interrupted the children.  "Neil, yer gonna hafta let that 
alone fer a while.  Yer Aunt Hattie tol' me t'day she got a leak in her 
roof.  That bad wind storm t'other night must've took off some shingles.  
You'n me an' Jaspar, we kin set it t' right in a day."  Neil nodded 
silently, and Owen turned to his wife now.  "Ruthie," he said, "Hattie 
says she'll be pleased fer you t' come an' do quiltin', if'n you feel 
awright."

"I'll be fine," she answered.  "I don't know how Hattie gits by since 
she lost Tim an' her young'uns, all by her lonesome in that cabin."  
With a wink she added, "Lucky she's got sech fine menfolk as you-all.  
Becky," she said, turning to her daughter, "let's make some apple 
cobbler t' take t' Aunt Hattie's t'morrer."

 * * *

The skies were overcast while the roof was repaired, but the dry weather 
held.  There was a steady rain the following day, so Neil pulled out the 
British history book from Dr. Gatlin and spent the morning re-reading a 
few chapters.

Over the course of the winter and spring, Neil had thoroughly studied 
the two texts the doctors lent him, and had traded for more books from 
the El Pano school.  He'd read Shakespeare, algebra and American 
history.  The medical book from Dr. Healy had been the most difficult, 
but Neil understood that invisible germs were the cause of infection and 
disease.  The descriptions of surgery fascinated him.  The blank book 
that Dr. MacDougall gave him was filling up with notes and questions on 
all topics.

By the afternoon the rain slowed and the sky began to brighten, so Neil 
put his book away and headed for the Spencer's cabin.  When he arrived, 
Jeb's younger sister, Dacy, and Grandam Spencer were sitting on the 
porch, with mending spread on their laps.

"Howdy Neil!" called Dacy, rolling up her work and laying it aside.  
"Granny, it's Neil MacNeill."  The old woman squinted in his direction, 
but couldn't identify him until he got up on the porch.  She reached out 
her gnarled hand to him and pulled him down on the bench between her and 
her granddaughter.

"Come'n sit here by me fer a spell, Neil," said Grandam Spencer.  "How's 
yer ma?  She looked a mite poorly when I see'd her at the singin' a 
fortnight ago."  Dacy quietly grasped his hand and entwined her fingers 
in Neil's as her grandmother continued.  "Did she git over to Granny 
Allen's yet?  She oughten to wait too long t' find out how she's comin' 
along."

Neil stared at her, not comprehending.  "Umm, Momma's fine, Granny.  
Don't rightly know what ya mean 'bout Granny Allen.  I never heerd she 
was ailin'."

Dacy laughed merrily.  "Ain't nobody ailin', Neil!  Don't ya know she's 
midwife fer Cutter Gap?"  She laughed even more at Neil's confused 
expression.

"Hush yerself, Dacy!" scolded Grandam.  "Most boys don't pay no mind t' 
these things. Leastways, not 'til they git married theirselves."  Neil 
felt a squeeze from Dacy, and withdrew his hand.  He stood and faced the 
old lady.  "Neil," she said with a grin, "Yer goin' t' have another baby 
in yer house come winter's end, God willin'."

Now both grandmother and granddaughter laughed at his open mouth and 
wide eyes.  Grandam Spencer rose with difficulty and patted Neil on the 
arm.  Before she hobbled into the house she looked at Dacy and added, 
"His ma lost one wee babe that come after Neil, and one after his 
sister.  Pray God this 'un'll be strong."  Dacy led him down the stairs.  
They sat on the bottom step while Neil tried to recover from his shock.

"I guess ya wasn't expectin' nothin' like that, was ya?" she giggled, 
tracing with her finger on his palm.  "Did ya come here lookin' fer 
Jeb?"  He nodded numbly.  "Waal, ya oughter know where t' look fer him 
nowadays!  Soon as the rain let up he run over t' the Allen's, courtin' 
agin.  He's all set on marryin' Fairlight Allen as soon as her folks'll 
let 'em.  Mebby next spring, he says."

Dacy's arm snaked around Neil's waist, and he turned to look at her.  
She leaned toward him and quickly pressed her lips to his.  His head 
pulled back in surprise, and she smiled coyly at him.  "Don't ya want 
to, Neil?" she asked, wrapping both arms about him.

He hesitated for a moment, studying her face, and then raised his hands 
to her shoulders and returned the kiss.  As Dacy began to cling to him, 
he pushed away and stood up, slightly breathless.  He unconsciously 
licked his lips and raised his fingers to feel his mouth.  "I, uh - I 
gotta go now, Dacy," he stammered, running his hand through his 
disheveled hair.  He turned and ran.

 * * *

Neil's well was nearly seven feet deep by the time he reached water, and 
he dug down beyond nine feet in the wet soil to ensure the water supply.  
His father had cut a young tree, trimming the branches to stumps a few 
inches long.  Neil leaned it against the sloping walls of the hole and 
used it as a ladder to climb in and out.  Owen helped him lash together 
split logs to make a cover for the deep pit, and they drove stakes into 
the ground to secure it.  Autumn colors were just beginning to show in 
the cove as Neil started gathering stones from the river to line the 
well.

The sun had just set as Neil returned from a day at school in El Pano.  
He was going to leave the next morning on a hunting trip with his father 
and uncle, and smiled to see bed rolls, packs and guns piled on the 
porch.  When he entered the house, though, his parents greeted him with 
serious faces.  His father stood by the fireplace, one foot on the 
raised stone of the hearth, while his mother sat at the table.

"Jaspar ain't comin' t'morrer," Owen told Neil directly.  "He's took 
sick.  Yer Aunt Lizzie's worried."  He looked worried, too.  Neil felt 
his stomach tightening as his father spoke.  "I seen Cal Spencer at the 
Allen's mill - his younges' gal's bad off, too."

Neil swallowed hard.  "Dacy's sick!  An' Uncle Jaspar?" he asked, 
looking back and forth between his parents.  His mother nodded.  "What's 
wrong with 'em?"

"Lizzie says Jaspar was feelin' poorly fer a while," Ruthie explained, 
"but he didn't pay it no mind.  Now he's runnin' a fever."  Something in 
her voice and eyes communicated a dread to Neil that he'd never felt 
before.  He'd seen sickness and even death, but he knew this was 
different.

Owen added, "Cal says Dacy's been abed with fever fer two days a'ready, 
and he heard that Verta Morrison's least'un is ailin'."  He sighed 
heavily.  "Neil, I know ya had yer heart set on huntin', but we're gonna 
hafta put it off fer now - leastways until Jaspar picks up some."  The 
hunting trip had become unimportant to Neil in the space of a minute.

Neil approached the table.  "Momma, is it sompthin' real bad?"  As he 
stood close to her, she reached up by habit and absently pushed back the 
wayward strands of hair from his forehead.

"Son," she said quietly, "Aunt Lizzie reckons it's summer scourge - 
typhoid.  Yer too young t' recolleck the las' time it come through the 
cove."  That news was bad enough, but Neil sensed that there was more 
coming.  He held his breath and clenched his jaw.  After a moment she 
added, "I put Becky t' bed early t'night.  She said she was awful tired, 
and she felt a mite warm."

 * * *

Neil felt as though he never unclenched his jaw, never relaxed his body 
for the next several weeks.  Poor Becky grew worse quickly.  On the 
following morning she complained of headache and stiffness.  The next 
day she had a high fever and couldn't rise from bed.  Neil felt helpless 
as he watched his mother washing Becky, trying to cool her body.  He 
joined Ruthie in the evening as she prayed for Becky, kneeling beside 
her at the bed.

By the afternoon of the fourth day Ruthie was exhausted.  She napped 
while Neil tried to coax the little girl to swallow spoonfuls of broth 
or water.  Becky complained in a weak voice, "It's too hard t' drink, 
Neil.  I'm thirsty, but my throat's all swolled up.  An' my tongue don't 
feel right, neither."

He pleaded, "Jes' try a tiny drop, Becky.  Don't ya like chicken soup?  
Momma made it special fer you.  C'mon now."  As her lips opened 
obediently, Neil was momentarily repulsed by spots of brownish fuzz on 
her tongue and mouth, but compassion for Becky's suffering immediately 
overcame the reaction.  He tipped the broth into her mouth.

Becky accepted one spoonful, but not a second.  "Hit don't taste right."  
She tried to push back the blanket that covered her.  "Neil, I'm real 
hot.  Kin ya take off these covers?  They's settin' so heavy on me, I 
cain't stand 'em.  Please, Neil."

"No, honey.  Jes' lie still fer a bit.  This'll cool ya off some."  
Neil's own throat felt dry with fear as he dipped a cloth into the basin 
of water, wrung it and stroked it over her face, chest and arms.  Why, 
God? was the question echoing in his mind.  What had Becky done to 
deserve this?  It was only a few days since she'd followed him about 
while he carried stones from the river to pile up next to his well.

"Neil?" called the thin voice.  "I was dreamin' about the white buck ya 
seen that one time.  I wisht I coulda see'd it, too.  Will ya stay by 
me, an' tell me 'bout how ya tracked him?"

"Course I'll stay!  But I bet you know that story as good as me, Becky," 
he said, trying to smile convincingly.

As Neil told his tale, he got Becky to swallow some more water, and it 
didn't seem long before he felt his mother's gentle hand on his head.  
"Yer Pa's not back yet?" she said wearily, more as a comment than a 
question.  Owen had ridden into El Pano to leave word for the doctor 
that occasionally passed through.  Other men from the cove had travelled 
to Lyleton, Cataleechie, and other places where he might visit.  No one 
really expected him to appear, but as more and more were stricken with 
typhoid, the mountain folk had to seek whatever help they could.

Ruthie wasn't rested, but she resumed her place by the bed.  Neil 
watched for a while, and then wandered onto the porch.  As he walked 
through the door, he was struck by the freshness of the air outside.  
The house had a strange smell.  He continued into the yard, and stood 
looking at the logs covering the well and the stones piled next to it.  
What if it had been completed?  He'd told Becky many times that there 
were germs in the river water that could make her sick.  Would the well 
have made a difference to her?  He thought of the medical book and what 
it said about disease from germs.

"I'm sorry, Becky," he whispered, sinking down on the ground and leaning 
against the rock pile.  "I wisht I knew what t' do fer ya.  Mebby if I'd 
finished this blamed well, 'stead o' runnin' off t' school or t' see 
Dacy..."  He sighed again, thinking of her.  The last time he'd seen 
Dacy was nearly two weeks ago, when they picked apples with Jeb and 
Fairlight.

Neil sat and stared at the river for some time.  When he went back 
inside, Becky was asleep.  "Momma?" he whispered, kneeling down next to 
her chair.  "If'n ya don't need me right now, kin I go over t' the 
Spencer's place?  I won't be gone long."

Ruthie nodded wearily.  "Awright, but ya ain't been t' Jaspar's yet, 
Neil.  Aunt Lizzie needs ya more'n ever now."  She felt his forehead and 
cheek before she released him.

Neil found Fairlight sitting on the steps when he arrived at the 
Spencer's, and he joined her there, hesitant to ask how their friend was 
faring.  She understood and answered, though he hadn't spoken.

"Dacy's in a bad way.  Jeb and his daddy's gone over t' Lyleton t' look 
fer the doctor," Fairlight sighed.  "She's burnin' up with fever, and 
she's been talkin' t' people what ain't there.  Is Becky pickin' up 
any?"  Neil shook his head.  She stood and reached for Neil's hand.  
"C'mon, you kin see her."

As they entered the cabin, Neil immediately noticed the same peculiar 
odor that he'd smelled at home.  He stood by Dacy's bed for a while, and 
was frightened by her incoherent, random muttering.  He didn't know what 
to do or say.  Mrs. Spencer, who looked as tired as his own mother, soon 
sent him and Fairlight to sit with Granny Spencer.

"We kin only pray, children," sighed the old lady.  "There's eleven 
that's been struck with the scourge a'reddy.  Only the Good Lord kin 
holp us now."  She asked about Neil's sister and uncle, and recited the 
list of all in Cutter Gap who were sick.

Soon Neil excused himself.  "I got chores t' do fer my uncle, an' I 
promised Momma I'd come home an' holp her with Becky."  His stop at 
Jaspar's was also brief.  Uncle Jaspar was definitely not incoherent - 
although weak, he was irritable at being confined to bed.  He sobered 
quickly at the news Neil repeated of the spread of typhoid, but soon 
began to scold his weary wife again.  Aunt Lizzie sent Neil outside to 
chop wood, feed their animals, and carry water from the spring.

On the walk home, Neil tried to control the feeling of fear and 
helplessness that attacked him.  His thoughts turned once more to the 
medical book.  It described so much about preventing disease from germs 
in wounds - but what about this disease?  He was sure that Dr. Healy 
would have been able to do something for his sister and the others.  
Neil decided he would pray for God to send the doctor soon.

 * * *

The doctor didn't come, and Becky grew weaker.  Neil lost track of the 
days as he took turns with his parents to nurse the little girl, hoping 
for a sign that her fever had turned.  They sent him out daily to do 
chores for Aunt Hattie or Uncle Jaspar, but he was afraid to be away for 
long.

Becky often asked for Neil; he told every story she requested, no matter 
how often.  When his mother sent him outside for a break, he took to 
laying on the covering of the well, either staring up into the trees and 
sky, or gazing down at the river.  He still joined his mother as she 
prayed by Becky's bed each night, but Neil was convinced that the Lord 
wasn't paying attention to this family.

Neil was too stunned to cry the day Becky died.  The tears came later, 
after the burial.  As soon as his parents allowed him to leave, he ran 
away, spending the afternoon and evening roaming far up the river bank.  
He cried with frustration at his loss, choking out his sister's name.  
When he finally crept into the house late that night, it was a long time 
before he could fall asleep.

Through the following days, Neil's anger grew with his sense of 
helplessness.  He often turned it against the piles of firewood, hiding 
his tears as he chopped with all his might.  Some days raced by in a 
blur, although most seemed to be endless.  When he came home one day and 
found his father slumped over the table, panic gripped him.  He couldn't 
stop his own trembling as he assisted Owen to the same cot where Becky 
had lain.  He choked out a tense prayer: "Oh, God, please don't let Pa 
die!"

Now Ruthie and Neil put all their energy into caring for Owen, but he 
grew worse every day.  Neither could react to the news that Dacy Spencer 
and many others had died, or that Aunt Lizzie had fallen sick just as 
Jaspar was recovering.  They could only focus on Owen, who was drifting 
in and out of consciousness.

When his father died, Neil felt as though he died, too.  He couldn't 
eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't cry, couldn't feel anything.  His mother 
seemed numb as well.  Neil didn't remember much of the burial, or of the 
days and weeks that followed, except that Aunt Hattie was spending more 
time at their house.

The typhoid epidemic finally ended when colder weather brought hard 
frost to Cutter Gap, but Neil couldn't feel relieved.  His family had 
been reduced to his mother, Uncle Jaspar and Aunt Hattie.  As he slowly 
recovered from the shock of his loss, Neil often returned to the medical 
book, concentrating on the sections that dealt with the prevention of 
disease.  He decided to learn as much as he could about science and 
medicine.  If he could somehow educate himself, he swore he'd change the 
helplessness of his people in the face of illness.

In the weeks that followed, his mother and Aunt Hattie noticed the 
difference in the young man.  His determination to study and learn was 
admirable, but they saw the bitterness that was spurring it.  He 
wouldn't join in the family prayers any more, but often sat outside at 
his unfinished well as his mother and Hattie prayed together.  They 
could only pray for Neil's heart to mend and for his spirit to soften.

Neil dreaded the family's gathering at Christmas, but went along to Aunt 
Hattie' for his mother's sake.  She'd become very thin during the 
epidemic, but had finally begun to put on weight again as the baby grew 
in her.  Jaspar, Ruthie and Hattie tried to keep some of the traditions 
for Neil's sake, but he could hardly eat, and couldn't join in the 
singing at all.  He retreated to the porch and yard a number of times 
when memories of his father and Becky rushed into his mind.

There was one bright spot for Neil that day.  His jaw dropped open when 
his mother brought out a present that had come in the mail for him.  It 
was a heavy package, postmarked in New York City.

Neil's fingers trembled as he tore open the layers of brown paper to 
reveal two text books - `Introduction to Chemistry' and `Grey's Anatomy' 
- as well a blank book.  He opened each book and saw his own name 
written in the flyleaf.  He thought he recognized the handwriting on a 
sheet of paper tucked between the books.  It had just a few words penned 
on it: "Neil MacNeill; I trust you're taking good care of my book and 
Dr. Gatlin's.  Study these, and have your questions ready when we return 
next summer.  James Healy."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Title:  It Only Takes A Spark, Part 3
Summary:  Neil is almost 16; the doctors return for another camping trip
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Neil paused a moment to adjust the knapsack he was carrying.  Although 
it was heavy, the weight didn't bother him as much as the canvas straps, 
which were digging into his shoulders.  A few of the men ahead of him 
seemed to be tiring, so he guessed he wouldn't have to wait much longer 
for a rest.  He slipped his hands under the straps and pulled forward, 
relieving the irksome rubbing.

He looked around at the group of men - the same doctors who'd been here 
two years earlier.  Now that he was nearly as tall as some of them - 
taller than Dr. Gatlin, in fact - they didn't seem as physically 
intimidating as on their last visit to the cove.  Neil had quickly 
readjusted to their Yankee speech.  Only Dr. Healy was still imposing, 
with his direct and powerful manner of speaking, his clear brown eyes 
that held Neil's whenever they met, and his intriguing accent.  Neil 
still couldn't identify that accent; he'd asked Uncle Jaspar, but he'd 
been no help.

When the train had arrived in El Pano, the doctors had quickly begun to 
unload their equipment and food, handing down each item from man to man 
in a chain.  There were guns, ammunition and bedrolls of course, but 
Neil was amazed at the cooking utensils, shovels, axes, canteens, extra 
clothing, canned and dried food, some bundles he couldn't identify, and 
even a fishing pole.  As Neil stood gaping at the growing mountain of 
gear, Jaspar stepped in among the men, cheerfully greeting them and 
helping to separate the pile into manageable loads for each one.  Before 
Neil could follow, he was slapped on the back by the large hand of Dr. 
Healy.

"Neil MacNeill, it must be you, though ye've changed so much!"  Neil 
turned toward the speaker, who was grinning broadly.  "Gentlemen!" the 
big red-headed doctor called to his companions, propelling Neil forward.  
"D'ye recognize this young man?"  One by one the other doctors greeted 
him, shaking his hand or clapping him on the shoulder.

Now, as they trekked toward Deer Mountain, which was to be their first 
night's camp, he went over in his mind the things he wanted to say about 
the books he'd studied.  Uncle Jaspar had sternly warned Neil not to be 
bothersome to the doctors, so he remained rather quiet.  He followed his 
uncle's lead, discussing the countryside and the game.

Dr. Gatlin finally called for a rest, and as they all dropped their 
loads and stretched their backs, he approached Neil.  "Well, young man," 
he began, "I'll wager you managed to read through those books we left 
you."  Neil glanced at his uncle, and saw him conferring with Drs. 
MacDougall and Paget about their direction, while Drs. Healy and 
Kinnigan sat down and took great gulps from their canteens.

"Yessir, I shorely did," he answered eagerly.  "I read 'em lots o' 
times, and wrote me down a heap o' questions an' sech."  He pointed to 
his pack.  "I got yer book here."  In addition to the two books the 
doctors had lent him, Neil also carried the blank books, now teeming 
with his written questions.

"Don't worry about that just now," said Dr. Gatlin, raising his hand.  
"I'm interested in your observations on the theories of Dr. Lister."

Neil hesitiated, glancing about as he tried to decipher the older man's 
words.  "D'ya mean what did I larn from that book?  Antiseptic 
Principle?"  He raised his eyes questioningly.

Dr. Gatlin smiled to hear the title pronounced just as Dr. Healy had 
taught him two years ago.  "Yes, Neil.  I want to know what you 
learned."

Neil took a deep breath.  "Waal sir, Dr. Lister, he figgered out that 
if'n he put this carbolic acid on any kind o' injuries or cut-wounds, 
and kep' 'em kivverd and clean, then there won't be no infection nor 
disease.  Like what ya did fer Dr. Kinnigan when you was here."  He felt 
the presence of someone behind him, and turned his head to see Dr. 
Healy.  The tall man quietly nodded his head, encouraging Neil to 
continue.

"Lemme see."  The young man felt his heart racing nervously; he wanted 
to say it all correctly.  "Dr. Lister says it's germs that git inside a 
body, and start the infection, so's a person could git gangrene.  I 
wonder if'n germs cause ev'ry kind o' sickness?"  He glanced up at Dr. 
Healy, who now stood beside him.

"We don't know for certain," Dr. Healy replied.  "Scientists are making 
discoveries about many illnesses, but there's still much to be learned."  
Then, seeing that the others were taking up their gear again, he raised 
his voice.  "Let's be off again!  Lead on, Mr. MacNeill," he called to 
Jaspar.  Aside to Neil he said, "We'll have plenty of time for this 
later."  As the men moved away, Neil took a moment to pull his coat out 
of his pack.  He laid it over his shoulders before slipping on the 
knapsack, creating a padding between himself and the canvas straps.

That evening at the campfire, Dr. Healy did indeed make time for Neil.  
He sat with the young man and explained the surgical procedures 
described in Lister's book.  He chuckled when the young man opened his 
notebook and began to read questions.  "Well, ye've not been idle with 
these books, I see!" he said with smile of approval.

Throughout the hunting trip, all the doctors took great delight in 
quizzing Neil on the things he had studied, and answering his multitude 
of questions.  While the others were cooking, cleaning their game, 
resting or strolling, one of them would sit or walk with their eager 
young hunting guide, paging through his books of notes and questions.  
In this way, Neil, who never tired of the sessions, was careful not to 
occupy too much time of any one doctor.  They discussed chemistry, 
mathematics, biology, and even literature and history - but the men 
couldn't help but notice that Neil nearly always managed to ask a 
question about medicine.

Neil was sitting with Dr. Gatlin one evening when they came to some 
pages where he'd made notes on the British history book.  "I see you're 
very interested in Scottish history, Neil.  You've made a lot of 
comments about `Bonnie Prince Charlie' and his Jacobite rebellion.  It 
looks like you knew a bit about this already."

"Oh yessir!" Neil answered excitedly.  He'd been leaning back against a 
fallen tree, but now he sat up and leaned toward the doctor.  "The 
families in the cove all come over here from Scotland when the English 
arrested or run off the men what helped the Bonnie Prince.  My own 
great- great- great-"  He paused, not sure how many generations to 
count.  "... great-grandsir was called Neil MacNeill, an' he would've 
been the Clan Chief, only he used his fortune t' bring nigh on two 
thousand folk right here to these mountains."

In his enthusiasm, Neil didn't notice that the others had begun to pay 
attention to his narration.  "His pa was took by the English, 'long with 
thousands of highlanders.  They never heerd what become of him."  He was 
about to continue, when Uncle Jaspar surprised them all by picking up 
the story.

"That's right," he said, sitting on the log beside his nephew.  "And 
Neil MacNeill's grandsir, Roderick, he was the thirty-ninth Clan Chief.  
Him an' other chiefs had t' hide away in caves 'cause the English was 
huntin' 'em; they had a bounty on their heads."  He paused to draw on 
his pipe.  "None o' their kinfolk would touch a penny o' the reward 
money - not fer them nor fer the Bonnie Prince!"

The story continued, with nephew and uncle taking turns to fill in all 
the details of Neil MacNeill's generosity and leadership in establishing 
the settlement in Cutter Gap.  The doctors had never seen Jaspar so 
animated.

When the story ended, Dr. MacDougall spoke up.  "This is fascinating!  
You men  have a heritage to be proud of.  Of course," he said with a 
mischievous grin, "you couldn't have picked a topic more interesting to 
me and Kinnigan and our original Scotsman here," holding his hand out 
toward Dr. Healy.

Neil looked up at the doctor, sitting on the other side of the campfire.  
So that was the source of Dr. Healy's accent!  He was very pleased that 
they shared a common background.  "So yer from Scotland yerself, sir?"  
He was startled by the raucous laughter that erupted from the men about 
him, and felt his face grow warm with embarrassment.

As soon as he recovered a bit, Dr. Healy spoke.  "Lord love you, lad!" 
he chuckled, wiping his eyes.  "Did ye think I got to talk this way from 
living in New York?  Boston, perhaps?" he said, setting off another 
round of laughter.  When they had settled down again, he explained, "My 
ancestors were Scots and Irish.  I come from a town called Montrose, on 
the far side of Scotland from your ancestor's Isle of Barra.  I had my 
university training in Edinburgh."  Looking about him at the other 
doctors, he added, "I came to America to try and improve the pitiful 
state of medicine in this country!"  This earned him some good-natured 
jeering.

The conversation began to break up now, and the men prepared to bed down 
for the night.  Neil was pleasantly surprised when Uncle Jaspar smiled 
and winked at him before rolling himself up in his blanket.

 * * *

The hunting expedition enjoyed fine weather for most of the trip.  Very 
early on a cloudy, threatening morning, as Dr. MacDougall and Neil were 
working out some trigonometry excercises, Dr. Healy signalled for both 
of them to join him.  In his hand he held the fishing pole.

"Come lads," he said cheerfully.  "This is a perfect morning for the 
fish to bite!  Gordon, I know ye've resisted learning to cast with a 
fly, but ye cannot deny our young friend the pleasure.  Up with ye!" he 
commanded, and they obeyed.  "Bring the book along.  Neil, have ye 
fished much?" he asked as they started walking toward the river.

"'Course I have!" he answered readily, and then added a little less 
confidently, "but not with no fancy pole like that 'un.  Jes' a stick 
an' string an' hook.  D'ya want me t' dig fer worms?" he asked, and was 
taken aback by Dr. Healy's indignant response.

"Worms!" he burst out, shaking his head.  "I see that an important 
aspect of your education has been sadly neglected.  We must remedy that 
immediately.  It's fly fishing I'm talking of.  You don't want to end up 
like Old MacDougall here, with no idea which end of the pole is which," 
he said, grinning at the young doctor.

The three spent most of the next hour at the river.  Dr. MacDougall 
declined to join them, but Neil waded in up to his knees, first watching 
Dr Healy, and then holding the pole himself.  Dr. Healy stayed beside 
him, showing him how to position his hands, lightly cast the rod, and 
draw the fly across the water.

When the pole bent from a sudden strong tug on the line, the doctor was 
quick to place his hand over Neil's.  "Easy now, son!  Ye don't need to 
prove your strength to the fish!  Hold it steady, and we'll pull him in 
slow and sure."  He began to instruct Neil how to draw in the line 
gradually, until the fish splashed in the shallows at their feet.

Dr. Healy squatted to grasp and unhook the fish.  He stood and held it 
out toward Neil.  The young man grinned as he laid the pole on the bank 
and reached for his wriggling catch.  "He's rather a wee one, Neil," the 
big man observed.  "Turn him loose, and ye can try for him again another 
day."  Seeing Neil's disappointment, he added, "God gave us fishing to 
put dinner on the table, to be sure, but it's to be enjoyed for itself 
as well."

Now the doctor took another turn with the fishing pole, and Neil seated 
himself near Dr. MacDougall on the bank.  The young doctor had been 
paging through Neil's notebook.

"I see that you've written the name of each book at the top of a page of 
questions and notes," he observed.  "Are these the only books that 
you've been able to read?  Aren't there any others?"

Neil thought briefly.  "No sir, lessen ya count the primers at the El 
Pano school, or my Momma's Bible.  She teached me t' read from it."

Dr. MacDougall turned to him with new interest.  "Did she?  I'm glad to 
hear you've read the Bible; you ought to make notes about the passages 
you read.  You're lucky to have a mother who can teach you like that.  I 
hope your family appreciates her."

The two doctors immediately noticed the change in the young man's face.  
"I shorely do, but the family's jes' me an' Momma now.  'Course there's 
Uncle Jaspar, an' I got one other aunt, too."  They waited for him to 
continue.  Neil's voice was low as he said, "My Pa and my sister Becky 
was took with fever last fall, and Momma lost a wee babe born last 
winter.  He come early, an' was all puny, an' couldn't hardly keep 
nothin' down in his stomach."  Neil stared out at the river as he spoke.  
"She ain't been very strong since then."

No one moved for a minute, and then Dr. MacDougall laid his hand briefly 
on Neil's shoulder.  "I'm very sorry, Neil.  I'm sure you've been a 
comfort to your mother."  He looked across at his colleague and spoke 
one word: "Anemia?"  The response was a somber nod.  Turning back to 
Neil, he continued, "If your mother won't mind, Dr. Healy and I would 
like to visit her before we leave.  There are some medicines that may 
help her."

Neil looked at first one doctor and then the other.  "Thank you, Doctor.  
We'd be obleeged to ya.  That shore takes a load off my mind."  The men 
saw that though he was grateful, there was still something troubling the 
young man.  He stood, jamming his hands into his pockets.  He took a few 
steps down the river bank before turning to look at the two doctors.

"What I want t' know is," Neil said, his voice taught with emotion, "is 
there germs right here in this river that could give a person a 
sickness?"  He swallowed before he added, "Like typhoid?"

"Typhoid!" Dr. Healy repeated softly, exchanging a glance with the 
younger doctor. "Was that the fever that took your father and sister?"  
Neil nodded grimly.  The doctor sighed and answered in a low voice, 
"It's possible.  If there's any septic or fecal matter - that's runoff 
from privies - then it's certainly possible.  Have ye noticed that we 
don't drink directly from the river, but boil our water before it goes 
into the canteens?"

Neil was agitated now, although the doctors realized they were not the 
cause.  He moved closer to Dr. Healy to ask his next questions.  "Why 
would the same water make one person sick but not another?  I dug me a 
well last year; now, would that be okay t' drink, or do I hafta boil it, 
too?"

Dr. Healy met the young man's troubled gaze.  He chose his words 
carefully, realizing that Neil was struggling with the reasons for the 
deaths of his family members.  "Ye want to know if the typhoid could 
have been prevented."  Neil nodded.  "Well water is generally safe, but 
sadly, there are other ways for the disease to be transmitted.  We don't 
know much yet about what makes one person immune while another is 
affected."

He saw that his response had created even more questions in Neil's mind.  
"Ye've read what Dr. Lister taught about hygienic practices in the 
operating room.  The same attention to cleanliness for food and drink 
will certainly do a lot in the prevention of diseases."

Dr. MacDougall spoke now.  "Neil, it's important for you to understand 
that you couldn't have prevented the typhoid.  There were others who 
contracted it, weren't there?  Many others?"  He saw the answer in 
Neil's eyes.  "Doctors have medicines to treat typhoid, but you couldn't 
have stopped it in the first place."

The young man turned away, wrapped in his thoughts.  The somber 
discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Paget, calling them to 
join the hunting party.  Neil was taciturn for the remainder of the day.

 * * *

It was after supper that night that Dr. Gatlin spoke to Neil.  "We 
haven't been back to the British kings lately - would you like to run 
through a few chapters tonight?"

"Waal sir," was Neil's answer, "I got me a whole heap to think on t'day.  
I wonder could we do that t'morrer?"

The older man wasn't surprised.  "I noticed that you were a bit low 
today.  Is there anything wrong, son?"

He shook his head.  "I reckon not, sir."  He rubbed his neck for a 
moment and then spoke with bitterness.  "That ain't exackly true.  I 
jes' been seein' t'day how bad we need a doctor here in the cove.  I 
wisht I'd knowed some things that coulda holped people who was sick -"

"Neil," interrupted Dr. Gatlin, "don't try to blame yourself for 
illnesses.  Even experienced doctors can't cure all diseases; we all 
feel that frustration.  Besides, there's nothing you can do that will 
change what's already happened.  Gordon is our group's resident 
Christian."  Dr. MacDougall looked up at the mention of his name.  
"He'll probably tell you that God has a plan in all that's happened."  
He shrugged as he added, "I guess I believe that, too.  But I also 
believe that a man can shape his own future."

Once again, Neil sensed Dr. Healy standing nearby, and stepped back so 
he could face him and Dr. Gatlin.  He hoped that he wouldn't be 
encouraged to trust in God.  He'd seen little reason to do that.

The two doctors exchanged a mysterious look.  Now it was Dr. Healy who 
spoke.  "We have something to say to ye, Neil MacNeill, and I want ye to 
listen to everything before ye answer at all."  He looked about for 
Jasper, but he'd wandered off with his pipe some time ago.  "Your uncle 
will have to be consulted, as well as your mother."  Neil was puzzled, 
and felt a strange sense of excitement.  The men sat down, but he 
remained standing, his heart pounding as he waited for Dr. Healy to go 
on.

"It's been clear to us that ye have a great desire to learn, to study, 
to improve yourself.  Am I right?"  Neil's eyes remained fixed on the 
big man as his head bobbed.  "The progress ye've made with your few 
books is outstanding."  All five doctors were gathered about by now, and 
they murmured their agreement.  "It's also clear that ye'll not get a 
chance to advance far while ye remain in Cutter Gap.

"Ye've been rather particular in your interest in medicine, so this is 
what we propose: if ye'll study and apply yourself for the next year, 
we'll help ye to prepare for entrance examinations to university.  If ye 
can pass them, then we'll make sure ye have the means to go to 
university - and medical school, if ye wish."

Neil stood rooted to the spot, unable to speak or move.  He looked down, 
and repeated over and over in his mind, 'University!  Medical School!'  
Finally he raised his eyes, first to Dr. Healy, then Dr. Gatlin, and 
then the others.  Some smiled at him, some were serious; it seemed 
they'd all agreed to this and were indeed offering him a college 
education!

He had to clear his throat before he could speak, and even then could 
only stammer.  "Med- medical school!  How - how kin I ...?"

Dr. Gatlin answered matter-of-factly, "Don't worry about the 'how', 
Neil.  Is this something you want?"

Once again Neil needed to look at each doctor, to be sure he understood 
their offer.  "Yessir," he answered slowly, running his hand through his 
tousled hair.  "I want it more'n I kin say.  But I cain't take sech a 
thing from ya - I got no way t' repay ya."

Dr. Healy came to stand in front of Neil, and placed a hand on the young 
man's shoulder.  "Look at me, Neil," he said.  "I understand your 
reluctance to accept this offer.  I admire your pride and independence.  
But sometimes a man has to receive help that he can't directly repay.  
How old are you?  Sixteen?"

"Yessir, come next month."

Seeing that Neil was still rather stunned, Dr. Healy continued speaking 
to allow him time to gather his thoughts.  "I have a son just your age," 
he said thoughtfully.  "James is set on entering medical school as well.  
I have in mind for ye to come and live with us in the spring while the 
two of ye study for the examinations.  If all goes well, ye'll both 
attend university in Edinburgh next fall."

Now Dr. MacDougall stood and pulled one of the knapsacks out of the 
pile.  "It's a lot for you to consider, Neil, and we don't expect you to 
answer right away.  You'll have to get your mother's approval, of 
course."  He opened the pack, and was feeling around inside for 
something.  "But if you and she agree, there'll be a lot of work to do 
in the coming year.  Ah, here it is!"  He drew out a book and turned it 
so that Neil saw the cover - it said 'Elementary Physics'.

The young doctor held the volume out to Neil with a grin.  "I had a 
Bible for you, too, but you've already got one."  Neil's fingers gripped 
the curls at the back of his neck as he watched the other doctors open 
various packs and pull out book after book.  When they finally stopped, 
he saw texts on grammar, calculus, latin, organic chemistry, ancient 
history, and one called 'Origin of the Species'.  Seven books!  Neil's 
eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open as he surveyed the collection 
spread before him.

Dr. Healy chuckled, "A bit flabbergasted, Neil?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Title:  It Only Takes A Spark, Part 4
Summary:  Neil has finished medical school, and is six months into his 
hospital training.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

>From the desk in the corner of the interns' room, Neil MacNeill leaned 
back and looked out the window into the street below.  He didn't usually 
find this view of Philadelphia very interesting, but this morning his 
thoughts were far outside the hospital walls.  Within a few hours he 
would be on a train for New York City, to spend Thanksgiving with the 
Healy family.  A small smile relaxed the serious lines on his face as he 
thought of the weekend ahead of him.

With a deep breath, he turned back to the paperwork covering the desk - 
patient reports that had to be completed and turned in to Dr. Robert 
Kinnigan before he could leave for the day.  When he was satisfied with 
his work, Neil straightened his collar and tie, and collected the 
papers.  There was just one more thing to do: he wanted to check back in 
on one of his patients.

As he approached the room in the children's ward, he called out, "Luke!  
Luke Hilliard!  Are you still there?"  A child's high giggle answered 
him.  He entered the room and approached a young boy, whose face was 
swathed in bandages from his nose to his forehead, with small scratches 
showing on his cheeks and neck.  The three other beds in the dormitory 
were unoccupied at the moment.

A wide smile greeted him.  "Hi, Dr. MacNeill!  I heard your feet coming, 
and I knew it was you!"  The small hands reached out, and Neil let them 
find and grasp his own big hand.

"Did you really?"  Neil sat beside the child on the bed.  "You're a very 
smart boy, if you know what my feet sound like."  He was gratified by 
the proud grin his comment sparked.  "Now, then!  Are you ready to test 
your strength?"

"Oh yes!  Make a fist!"  Luke wriggled his legs around so that he was 
kneeling on the bed.  He put both his hands around Neil's fist, and 
began working to pry open the fingers, one by one.  Neil let him 
struggle for a minute, and then gradually allowed the child to pull back 
his thumb, and then each finger.  Luke laughed as he unbent the last 
finger, and then asked to do it again.  "And make it harder.  Really 
tight!"  Once again, the doctor was amused to watch the boy put all his 
energy into opening the big fist.

"All right, wee one, you'd better give me a rest.  How are you feeling 
now?  Do you have any pain?"  Neil felt the boy's neck and cheeks, and 
was satisfied that there was no fever.

Luke settled back against the pillows.  "No, it doesn't hurt, but it's 
so itchy!"

Neil's voice was stern.  "No scratching!  You were very brave when the 
glass door broke, and while Dr. Kinnigan and I were operating on you.  
But if the wounds get infected from scratching, then they'll really 
hurt!  Do you understand?"  The boy nodded soberly.  "Good.  Now, I'm 
going to be away for tomorrow and the next day, but Dr. Westerhof will 
come to see you.  When I come back we'll take off the bandages.  And 
then you'll finally get a look at me."

"Dr. MacNeill?" Luke asked with a slight quaver in his voice.  "Will I 
really be able to see all right?  I wish I could see right now."

Neil straightened the bed sheets as he answered.  "Don't fret.  I 
promise, your eyes will be fine.  I'll tell you the truth, Luke," he 
said in a low voice, "there's not really much to look at in here or 
outside your window."  He let the child catch his hand again.

"When I was a wee boy like you," he reminisced, "there was a beautiful 
river right outside our house.  I could watch it from the porch.  The 
water foamed up and sparkled around the rocks.  It looked like 
diamonds."  Neil closed his eyes on the hospital room, and saw the 
mountain cabin where he'd grown up.  "And every morning the mountains 
had smoky mist on their tops until the sun rose up to burn it off."

Luke was quiet for a moment, imagining the scene.  "Is it very far away?  
Do the people there talk like you?"

Neil chuckled.  "No, they don't.  It seems far away, and I haven't been 
there for many years.  I came to talk this way while I was in Scotland, 
studying to be a doctor."

"Don't you want to go home?" the small boy asked wistfuly.  "You miss 
it, don't you?"

Neil was quiet for a moment, and closed his hand on Luke's.  "Yes, I do 
miss it."

Just then they heard a step in the doorway, and as Neil turned to look, 
the boy exclaimed, "Mommy!"

 * * *

Neil was within sight of the Dr. Kinnigan's office when two other Wills 
Eye interns approached him.  "Good morning, Dr. MacNeill!  What's your 
hurry?"  They exchanged a glance.  "We, ah - we'd like your advice in a 
- a particular matter."  The two young doctors stopped, obliging Neil to 
stop as well.  One of them lounged against the wall, while the other 
stepped closer to Neil.

"Yes Dr. Post, Dr. Klinger?"  Neil was surprised that they would consult 
him on any matter at all.  They usually kept company with a small group 
of young doctors from wealthy Philadelphia families.  "What can I do for 
you?"

The man closest to him now winked and said, "Well, it's not exactly 
critical, but we are looking for another opinion."  They looked at each 
other again.  Neil began to suspect some kind of unpleasant joke.  "We 
can't decide between the Livingston Inn and the Black Bull.  Which do 
you prefer?  Perhaps you'll join us tonight for dinner?"

He had named two expensive restaurants, neither of which Neil could 
possibly afford.  Neil didn't bother to hide his disdain.  "Thank you, 
but I'll be out of town tonight.  Good day, doctors."  And with that he 
stalked away.

When he turned at the doorway of Dr. Kinnigan's office, he was surprised 
to see his mentor standing right there.  "Come in, Neil," he said 
quietly, and closed the door.  He pointed to a chair for Neil and took 
his own seat behind the desk.  "What was that about, if I may ask?"

Neil was fuming.  "Those useless fops!  They're worried about their 
precious restaurant, but they can't be bothered for an extra minute with 
their patients!"  He laid his reports on the desk as he muttered, "Join 
them for dinner!"

Dr. Kinnigan crossed his arms on his chest.  "That will do, Dr. 
MacNeill."  He met Neil's eye with a even, steady look.  "Why do you let 
those two bother you?  You're twice the doctor either of them is after 
just six months, and you'll only increase that difference with time."  
He reached out and pulled Neil's reports toward him as he spoke.

Neil looked away for a moment to calm himself, and then sat back in his 
chair.  "Thank you, Doctor.  It's just that pretty boys like those two 
have always had things handed to them.  They haven't any idea of earning 
their way, or of service or duty."

Dr. Kinnigan had begun to page through the reports.  He looked up with a 
grin and said, "Well, I'd say there's no danger of you being called a 
pretty boy!"  This finally brought a chuckle out of Neil.  The senior 
doctor went on, speaking earnestly.  "Seriously, Neil, I'd be 
disappointed if you really held their wealth against them."

"It's not the wealth, sir," Neil replied.  "I have no problems with Dr. 
Westerhof, and he seems to be as well off as any of them.  He doesn't 
need money to gain respect."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Dr. Kinnigan.  "All the same, Neil, you 
might do well to go out with some of the fellows now and then.  Your 
work has been outstanding, but I'd be glad to see you enjoying yourself 
with other young people."

The young doctor stood and said, "Well, I'm happy to oblige you!  I've 
come to say goodbye, sir.  I'll be leaving this afternoon for New York."

"Ah yes!" the older man exclaimed.  Please give my best regards to Dr. 
Healy and the whole family.  Will young James and his wife be there?"

"Yes," Neil smiled, "they're coming from Baltimore.  James has been 
doing his best to keep from being washed out of Johns Hopkins Bayview!"

Dr. Kinnigan laughed out loud.  "Nonsense!  I happen to know he's at the 
top of their group of interns!"  With a wink at Neil, he added, "Only a 
certain other wild young Scotsman could possibly challenge him."  He 
stood now and offered Neil his hand.  "I'm sure you'll be stopping in to 
see Dr. MacDougall and Dr. Gatlin.  My best to them as well."

 * * *

As the train pulled into the New York station, Neil scanned the 
platform, looking for James and Helen Healy.  Helen had said in her 
letter that their train was due to arrive just twenty minutes before 
Neil's.  James' hair wasn't a distinctive red like his father's, but he 
was tall enough to stand out in a crowd.  As he stepped down onto the 
platform, he heard his name called.  There they were!

James reached him first; the two men shook hands heartily, each pounding 
the other's shoulder.  Helen was a few steps behind, with their two 
year-old son clinging to her hand.

"Helen!"  Neil gladly received and returned her hug, and then looked 
down at the tiny boy beside her.  "Hello, Daniel!" he said gently, 
squatting down to the child's level.  Daniel felt overwhelming shyness 
at the moment, and hid behind Helen's skirts.  "That's all right.  I've 
no doubt you'll remember me soon enough!"  As he rose, he asked, "Will 
both your sisters be home?"

James answered, "Eleanor should have arrived from college on Sunday.  
Virginia and her husband will come the day after Thanksgiving."

Helen looked Neil up and down for a moment, and then said, "You look 
wonderful, Neil.  A little too thin, maybe, but Mother Healy will take 
care of that.  And your hair is so long!  You have to let me trim it, or 
everyone will think you've been working in the wilderness instead of 
Philadelphia."

She looked at both of the men with a comical grin.  "I've missed hearing 
you try to outdo each other in your Scottish accents!  Now with your 
father as well, James, it will be just perfect!"

Neil felt a light touch on his knee, and looked down to see little 
Daniel reaching up.  He grasped the child and swung him high up over his 
head.  The boy laughed as he went up once! twice! three times!  Neil 
brought him down gently so they faced each other.  "So, wee Daniel, you 
remembered me after all!  Do I get a kiss?"  The child's soft lips 
immediately came forward to meet his.

"Come on, then!" said James cheerfully.  "Grandmother's got supper 
waiting, and Grandfather is eager to see his one wee boy and his two 
great boys!"

 * * *

"Has it been six months since ye were here?" asked Dr. Healy.  He smiled 
at the group of young people sitting around him and his wife in the 
parlor.  "It seems like yesterday - except when I see how Danny's 
grown."

Neil answered him.  "The time's gone by quickly for all of us, sir.  It 
hardly seems long ago that I came here for the very first time."

Dr. Healy looked at his son and then at Neil.  "You two were quite a 
pair, studying all hours of the day and night for the college exams!  I 
knew ye needed to get away a bit, so Mother and I managed to leave ye 
chances to escape now and then."

The two young doctors both burst out in surprise.  "You did!"  James 
laughed, "And all these years we congratulated ourselves for being so 
clever to sneak out without your knowledge!"

But I trusted the two of ye," he winked.  "And ye were such fast friends 
from the very beginning."  There was more laughter from the young men.  
"What does that mean?"

Neil answered him.  "You see sir, that first time James and I met, I 
picked a fight with him as soon as you left the room."

"Ye rascals!  And which of ye won?"

James grudgingly admitted, "It was Neil.  But at my earliest 
opportunity, I started another fight, and managed a draw."

James' youngest sister Eleanor laughed, "At least they gave it up before 
they lost any teeth, or broke any bones!"  She and Helen shared a smile.

Mrs. Healy hadn't laughed very much at the confession of fighting.  Now 
she asked, "How did you decide to stop?"

"Well, Mother," James explained, "we'd gone to the park with Virginia 
and Eleanor, and Helen and her sister.  Neil and I were about to start 
another round when we saw the girls across the park.  Three rough boys 
were picking on them."  He met his wife's eye.  "They made Helen cry."

Neil picked up the story.  "We lit out across the field, and flew into 
those boys!  They ran like scared rabbits!  After that we cut down on 
the fighting a bit!"  He chuckled.  "I noticed that James paid more 
attention to Helen after that day!"  The young couple's hands met and 
entwined.

James smiled slyly.  "And I believe the other girls found a new 
appreciation for you, Neil!  Am I right, Eleanor?"  He winked at his 
sister.

"James!"  Eleanor gave him a fiery look.

Now Mrs. Healy stood, brushing her skirts and bringing the men to their 
feet.  "This has been a long day for you travelers, and Thanksgiving's 
going to be quite full - in many ways!  I'm sending you all to bed right 
now."

 * * * 

When Neil ventured downstairs early the next morning, the kitchen was 
already in a flurry of activity, under the direction of Mrs. Healy.  He 
was shooed away, and found Dr. Healy in the dining room among piles of 
pancakes and a variety of fruits.

"Help yourself, Neil," said the older doctor.  "It's not safe for 
menfolk in the kitchen this morning."  When Neil was seated, he said, 
"I've arranged for ye to visit with Dr. MacDougall and Dr. Gatlin at 
Presbyterian Hospital tomorrow - Gordon is on duty, and Starr will come 
into his office in the afternoon.  They're both eager to see ye again.  
We all want to hear how that Kinnigan fellow is treating ye!"

Neil gulped his coffee.  "Thank you, sir.  I'm looking forward to seeing 
them, too.  Dr. Kinnigan's given me the best experience I could have 
hoped for.  I assisted him last week on a young boy who'd run into a 
glass door.  He saved the child's sight -"

At that moment James and Helen came in, carrying their son.  They 
claimed everyone's attention until breakfast was over, when Mrs. Healy, 
Eleanor and the servant girl emerged from the kitchen. 

"The Thanksgiving service starts in forty minutes,"  Mrs. Healy 
announced.  "We just have enough time to dress for church."  The women 
all began to move, but the men remained seated.

James cleared his throat.  "Mother," he said, "Neil and I are going to 
stay home.  We've not had a chance to talk - it's been six months since 
I saw him."  Mrs. Healy sighed her disapproval, and then turned to catch 
her husband's eye before leaving.

The big doctor stood slowly.  "Lads," he said with a grin, "it's never 
wise to vex your wife!  And so I'm off to church!"  Neil and James 
didn't stir as he left the room.  After a while, Helen returned to 
whisper with James for a minute.

He stood to talk quietly to his wife, but Neil could see that she wasn't 
going to persuade him.  "He can stay with us if you like," James said, 
nodding toward his little son.  Helen sighed, and let James kiss her 
cheek before she went out.

The two young doctors strolled outside with the toddler.  They hadn't 
discussed their hospital experiences until now, and quickly became 
absorbed in comparing their duties and patients.  The delicious aroma of 
turkey greeted them on their return, and they were surprised to find 
that the church-goers were already back.

Long after the sumptuous dinner, when the diners were just beginning to 
be able to think of dessert, Neil found himself in the parlor with James 
and Helen.  Eleanor had claimed her little nephew and taken him off to 
play; Dr. Healy was sleeping on the couch across the room; and Mrs. 
Healy was dozing nearby as she attempted to read a book.

Helen pinched her husband's arm gently and spoke quietly.  "Your mother 
is upset that you wouldn't go to the church service with us."

"I'll apologize to her.  Are you upset too, love?" James responded.  "I 
didn't mean to be rude, but we don't attend in Baltimore - why did you 
go?"

"Well, only for Mother's sake, I guess," she admitted, glancing across 
the room to make sure her mother-in-law was still asleep.  "But isn't it 
right to thank God for all He's given us?"

Neil leaned forward as he responded, "Yes, if you really believe that He 
gives you everything.  Do you?"  He spoke softly, but his gaze was 
intent.

Helen hesitated.  "I haven't really thought about it.  I used to go to 
Sunday School, but I don't remember much."

"You see, dear," said James, "if you don't truly believe, then why 
attend ritual services?  It doesn't make sense.  These religions just 
seem to be interested in controlling people's lives."

She didn't know how to respond now.  "Helen," said Neil gently, "I know 
you're no hypocrite.  You do need to think about your beliefs, just as 
James and I did all through university."

James nodded.  "We came to a number of ideas about God.  He created the 
world, and I'll agree that He's given us the basic things we need to 
survive, but people have to make the best use of their intelligence to 
improve the world around us."

"Yes," continued Neil, "and look at what scientists have been able to 
do, with great discoveries in medicine and developments in engineering."

Helen looked sharply at Neil.  "So you believe in yourselves and in 
science?  But Neil, God created all the laws of science."

Neil looked straight back at her.  "It's not as blasphemous as it 
sounds, Helen.  We're the ones who will make a difference in people's 
lives, by preventing needless pain and death.  I don't say it with pride 
as much as duty."

Helen shook her head a little, feeling that she'd come out of this 
discussion much more confused than she'd entered it.  Fortunately for 
her, Eleanor returned at that moment with Daniel, waking up the senior 
Healys.

Mrs. Healy rose and asked Helen if she would play the piano for them.  
"We haven't sung together for some time."  Helen sat at the piano, and 
looked through the collection of music.  She chose 'After the Ball,' and 
the family gathered around to sing.  Neil had never paid much attention 
to popular songs, and found that he didn't know this one well enough to 
join in.

After she'd played for a while, Helen invited Eleanor to take her place 
on the piano bench.  Eleanor opened the hymnbook and started with 
'Fairest Lord Jesus'.  Neil did recognize this hymn, and most of the 
ones that were played after it.  He still didn't sing, though, 
refraining from words he didn't believe.

It wasn't until Eleanor turned to the page with 'Amazing Grace' that 
Neil was tempted to harmonize.  Helen was sitting beside him, and heard 
him first softly hum, and then sing.  That was the last hymn for the 
evening, and Eleanor and her mother soon left to bring out dessert.

"Neil?" Helen asked, looking at the three generations of Healy men 
playing together across the parlor from them.  "Why did you only join in 
on that one song?  You have such a wonderful singing voice."

Neil glanced at the piano, where the hymnbook was still open.  "Back in 
Cutter Gap, we used to have gatherings something like this.  We called 
them 'singings'.  One of my Aunt Hattie's favorites is 'Amazing Grace'."  
As he spoke, Daniel wandered across the room, and now asked for Neil to 
pick him up.  He lifted the child onto his lap.  "It reminded me of 
her."

Helen fondled her son's wavy light brown hair.  "She's all the family 
you have left there, isn't she?"  Dr. Healy and James were quiet now, 
paying attention to Neil and Helen's conversation.

"Yes," Neil answered, "and her eyesight's been failing for years now.  A 
lot of people in the cove have trachoma."  He patted the little boy's 
back lightly.

Dr. Healy said, "I was sorry to hear that your uncle died last summer, 
Neil.  He was a fine man.  How did it happen?"

"It was a hunting accident, sir.  His leg was cut when he slipped while 
chopping with an ax.  I only got a few details from Aunt Hattie's 
letter.  She has trouble writing now."  Neil tried to speak 
matter-of-factly, but they all heard the sadness in his voice.  "Anyway, 
the wound was probably never cleansed properly, and it became badly 
infected.  He developed gangrene, and when they finally found the doctor 
from the nearest town, it was far gone.  The doctor took off his leg, 
but Jaspar died within a day - maybe from the gangrene, maybe from the 
amputation.  The letter came weeks after it was all over."

Helen's voice trembled a bit as she said, "And your mother passed away 
just a year before that, while we were still in Scotland."  Her hand 
moved to rest on Neil's arm.  He glanced at her and gave a small grin of 
appreciation.

"My mother had anemia since ... since the time you and the other doctors 
came to Cutter Gap, Dr. Healy.  She was very thankful for the medicine 
you gave her then," Neil paused to meet the doctor's eye, "and I made 
sure she always had it.  But she was weak, and had no resistance when 
influenza came through the cove."

Little Daniel, who'd been playing with the buttons on Neil's vest, 
looked up when the adults all stopped speaking.  He climbed down from 
Neil's lap, and headed back to his father and grandfather.

Helen was quiet for a minute longer, and then said in a whisper, "You 
still have your aunt."

Neil nodded.  "Yes, I still have Aunt Hattie."

 * * *

"Come in, Neil!  I'm so glad to see you again!"  Dr. MacDougall crossed 
the room in a few strides and shook hands with the young man.  "Doctor 
MacNeill, I should say!  Good morning, James," he greeted Dr. Healy.  
"May I steal Dr. MacNeill away from you for a while?  I'd like to take 
him on rounds with me.  We'll be back in plenty of time to meet with Dr. 
Gatlin."

And with that quick interchange, and a few introductions along the way, 
Neil found himself making the rounds of the surgical ward in 
Presbyterian Hospital.  

As they left one patient, Dr. MacDougall said, "I doubt that he's 
mentioned it to you, but Dr. Kinnigan boasts of you in all his letters.  
He's kept our little group informed of your progress, even Dr. Paget in 
Atlanta.  You're his top intern, Neil."  The senior doctor looked 
sideways at Neil, and saw that the young man was embarrassed by the 
praise.

Dr. MacDougall instructed Neil to examine the patients as they went from 
bed to bed.  He questioned the young doctor on signs of complications, 
as well as medications and treatments.

As they started walking back to Dr. MacDougall's office, he said, "Dr. 
MacNeill, there's something I'd like you to know."  Neil looked at him, 
waiting for him to continue.  "You won't be surprised, I think, to learn 
that Dr. Kinnigan wants to offer you a position at Wills Eye Hospital.  
Of course, the official word won't come until spring, when you've 
completed a full year of training."

Neil had suspected this, but he still felt a rush of elation at the 
news.  "It's very flattering, sir.  I've always intended to return to 
Cutter Gap, but the idea of working with Dr. Kinnigan in opthalmology is 
very attractive."  He couldn't prevent a smile from creeping onto his 
lips.

"Yes it is, Neil.  I'm going to tell you something that you may not have 
known.  Dr. Healy and I are working to get the hospital here to extend 
you an offer as well."

This offer truly surprised Neil, and he stopped short.  He ran his hand 
through his hair as he contemplated this news.  "Dr. MacDougall, this is 
such an honor!  I don't know what to say!"

The doctor chuckled, "Well, you've said all there is to say for now!  We 
won't know for certain until spring, but I think you should know the 
possibilities."  He crossed his arms, and then lifted his hand to his 
chin. 

"Neil I know you don't share my faith in God."  This was an unexpected 
turn in the conversation, and Neil wondered what Dr. MacDougall would 
say next.  "You'll be facing an important decision, between these and 
any other offers you may receive.  I'll be praying for you to make the 
right choice.  Wherever you go, I know you'll be a most valuable man."

There was nothing more than that, and Neil saw that it was sincerely 
meant.  It made him a bit uncomfortable, but he put out his hand and 
said, "Thank you, Doctor."

Dr. MacDougall smiled.  "Let's head back to Dr. Healy and Dr. Gatlin, 
shall we?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Title:  It Only Takes A Spark, Part 5
Summary:  Neil has a decision to make
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Neil felt as though he'd spent a large part of his life at the little 
desk in the corner of the intern's room.  He finally completed his 
patient reports for the day, and once again reached into his coat pocket 
to pull out three letters.  He laid them before him and read each one, 
although he'd done that so often he practically knew them all by heart.

One letter had been delivered by hand - it was an offer of a position 
right here at Wills Eye Hospital, working with Dr. Kinnigan.  The second 
was from New York, and was the offer from Drs. Healy and MacDougall to 
come to Presbyterian Hospital.  His eye lingered over these two letters.

Before turning to the third, Neil sat back in his chair and gazed out 
the window, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe.  It was difficult to tell 
that it was actually springtime, but even in Philadelphia the few trees 
visible were in full leaf, and some hopeful tulips bloomed in a window 
box across the street.

Now he read the letter, which was postmarked from Knoxville.  Somehow, a 
Dr. Jacob Jackson at Knoxville General Hospital had found him, and was 
asking him to return to Cutter Gap to set up practice.  The itinerate 
doctor who occasionally served that area had died, and there was no 
medical service available for the cove at all.

Neil's mind had been revolving around the offers in front of him for 
days now.  He'd always planned to come home - that idea was as old as 
his dream to become a doctor.  The letter from Knoxville, with its 
unimpressive letterhead, only reinforced his obligation.  But the two 
hospital jobs were so tempting - he knew he'd have a chance to do 
research, to develop new procedures and to use the latest instruments 
and medicines and techniques.  Here was his chance to make a real 
contribution to medical science!

Suddenly he knew what he needed to do.  He put the letters back into his 
pocket, straightened his collar and tie, and went to Dr. Kinnigan's 
office to ask for some time off.  Within two days, everything had been 
arranged, and Neil was on the train for New York City.

Neil arrived in the pouring rain, but hardly noticed it as he boarded a 
trolley for Madison Avenue and 70th Street.  Neil bounded up the stairs 
of Presbyterian Hospital, and headed directly for Dr. Starr Gatlin's 
office.

The older doctor was waiting for Neil, and ushered him into his office.  
As soon as the door was closed, Neil began.

"Dr. Gatlin," he said, still out of breath, "thank you for letting me 
come on such short notice.  I've been swimming in my own thoughts for 
days now, and I need some advice."

Dr. Gatlin sat down, then took a moment to fill his pipe and light it.  
Only after he'd puffed on it for a minute did he reply.  "Neil, I'm 
honored that you came to me.  Please don't feel hurried.  I have no 
other appointments for the afternoon, so relax and take your time."

"Yes, sir," Neil grinned, realizing that he had been very abrupt.  He 
took a deep breath, and slowed his speech a bit.  "When I was in 
university and medical school, my only thought was to go back to Cutter 
Gap to work as a doctor there.  And I've received news that the doctor 
who occasionally came through the cove has died.  There's no one for my 
people now."

Neil looked across the desk at the man who'd recognized his dream and 
helped him realize it.  "You know I've been offered a position here in 
your hospital, and also in Wills Eye with Dr. Kinnigan."  As Dr. Gatlin 
patiently listened, Neil tried to describe the possibilities he saw for 
research if he took either of the big hospital positions.  He wanted to 
be a part of great discoveries, and believed that he could truly make a 
difference in medicine.

At one point when Neil paused, Dr. Gatlin asked, "And is it just 
yourself you're considering, Neil?"  As the young man looked up he 
continued, "There's a young woman, isn't there?  If you do go back, it 
takes a very special person to live in your mountains, Neil."

Neil felt his face grow warm.  "Yes, sir," he answered rather 
self-consciously.  "Her name's Margaret Henderson.  I've told her all 
about the cove.  She's very excited about Cutter Gap."  He explained to 
Dr. Gatlin how much she shared his desire to live there.  But even his 
pleasure in talking of her couldn't distract him long from his main 
concern, and he soon turned his thoughts and words back to the decision 
before him.

Neil went on for the whole afternoon, taking first one side of the 
argument and then the other.  Dr. Gatlin occasionally added a yes or no, 
but for the most part simply smoked his pipe and kept his eyes focused 
on his young friend.  Finally, as Neil noticed the street lights turned 
on outside, he stopped himself.

The two men sat silently for a few minutes before Neil spoke again.  
"I'm sorry for haranguing you all afternoon -"

But finally Dr. Gatlin spoke, interrupting Neil.  "No, don't apologize, 
Neil.  I could never have told you what you ought to do.  You had to 
discover it yourself.  And I know you've made the right choice.  You're 
sure now, aren't you?"

"Yes sir," Neil answered slowly.  "I could never be happy anywhere but 
Cutter Gap."

The End.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++