"De good Lord Heem bring an' de good Lord Heem take away," was what she said, and it sounded like a knell in the ears of the others.

Since the light was beginning to fail Madge lit the little lamp. Mrs.

Papineau took some of the soup out of the pot and stirred it with a spoon to cool it, and then she lifted the sick man's head. Her voice became soft and caressing, as if she had spoken to a child.

"My leetle Hugo," she said, "dere's a good fellar. Try an' drink, jus'

one bit. H'open mouth, dat way. Now you swallow, dere's good boy. An'

now you try heem again, jus' one more spoon. H'it is awful good, from de big moose what Philippe he get. Jus' one more spoon an' I not bodder you no more."

Whether Hugo understood or not no one could have told. At any rate, with infinite patience, she was able to feed him a little, until he finally pushed her hand away from him.

Stefan, whose back had been resting on the door and whose arms had been hanging dejectedly at his side, took a step towards the girl.

"Ay go down de road a bit an' meet Papineau if he come back," he proposed. "If de togs is tired I take de doctor on my toboggan. Get back qvicker dat vay. So long! I comes back soon anyvays, sure."

He started away at a swift pace, his strong dogs, amply rested, barking and throwing themselves hard upon the breastpieces of their harness. After he was out of hearing the two women sat very close together, for mutual comfort and consolation, and the older one began to speak in a low whisper.

"You very lucky, mademoiselle. It ees lucky it ain't you h'own man as lie dere an' you haf to see heem like dat. It is turriple ting to see.

One time Papineau heem get h'awful seek, an' I watch him five--no, six day and de nights. An' it vos back in de Grand Nord, no doctor nor noding at all. An' me wid my little Justine jus' two month ole in my h'arms. An' den come de day ven de good Lord Heem 'ear 'ow I pray all de time an' Papineau heem begin to get vell again. But de time vos like having big knife planted in my 'eart, jus' like dat."

She made a gesture as if she had stabbed herself, and went on:

"You not know 'ow 'appy you must be you no love a man as goin' for die soon. You--you go crazy times like dat!"

But Madge made no answer and could only continue to stare at the form that seemed to grow dimmer as the small oil lamp cast flickering shadows in the room. In her ears the continued, eternal sound of the great falls had taken on an ominous character. It was like some solemn dirge that rose and fell, unaccountably, like the breathing of a vast force that could reck nothing of the piteous tragedy being enacted. It appeared to be growing ever so much colder again. A few feet away from the stove it was freezing. She sought to look out of the little window but great ma.s.sing clouds had hidden the crimson of sunset. A strong wind was arising and caused the great firs and spruces to groan dismally. The minutes were again becoming cruel things that tortured one with their maddening slowness. The girl became conscious of the beats of her heart, unaccountably slow, as she thought.

And then, for a moment, that heart stopped utterly. A shout had come from the little lumber road and Maigan was barking at the door excitedly, in spite of the older woman's scolding. The toboggan slithered over the snow and there was a patter of dogs' feet.

Madge threw the door open and let in a man in a great c.o.o.nskin coat, who was carrying a bag. In spite of the heaviest fur mitts his hands were chilled and for a moment he held them to the glow of the stove, before turning calmly to his patient, after a curt nod to each of the women.

CHAPTER XIII

A Widening Horizon

"I'm Dr. Starr," the man introduced himself. "It's turning mighty cold again. We only hit the high places after I got on Stefan's toboggan, I can tell you. How the man kept up with his team I can't tell you, but he ran all the way."

He threw off his heavy coat and turned to the bunk.

"Now let's see what we've got here," he said.

The two women were scanning his face, holding their breaths, but Mrs.

Papineau had the lamp and held it so as to cast some light on Hugo.

The doctor's expression, however, was quite inscrutable.

"Your husband?" he asked the girl, who shook her head. "Well, perhaps it's a good thing he's not. Put a lot of water to boil on the stove, please. Can't you find another lamp here--this one doesn't give much light?"

There was no lamp but they found a package of candles which were soon flickering on the table, stuck in the necks of bottles. The doctor was pulling a lot of things out of his bag, coolly. To Madge it seemed queer that he could be so unaffected by what he saw. Presently he went to work, after baring the injured shoulder.

After it was all over it seemed to the girl like some dreadful nightmare. After just one keen glance the doctor had probably decided that her young hands would afford him the better help. And so she had been obliged to remain at his side and look upon the sinewy shoulder and the arm that had been laid bare, and at the angry and inflamed wound which had been flooded with iodine. And then had come the picking up of shining instruments just taken out of one of the boiling vessels. Her teeth left imprints on her lips and she felt that she was surely going to stagger and fall as the man made long slashing incisions. From them he took out a piece of cloth and a bullet that had been flattened against the bone. After this there was a lot more disinfecting and the placing of red tubes of rubber deep down in the wound, which was finally covered with a large dressing. But it was only after this was all finished that Madge dropped on a stool, feeling sick and shaken.

"Oh, you're not such a very bad soldier, after all," commented the doctor, quietly, as he gathered up his instruments to clean and boil them again. "I can't say that I'm optimistic about this case--but perhaps you don't quite understand such big words. I mean that I haven't any great hopes for this lad, but at least he has some little chance now. There was none whatever before. Of course it depends a lot on the nursing he gets. If I thought for a moment that he could stand the trip I'd take him away with me, but that's out of the question."

Then he turned to Stefan.

"I'll have to catch the first freight back in the morning, my man.

Will you take me to Carcajou in good time? I can't afford to miss it.

Too many needing me just now east of here!"

"Ay, I take you--if Hugo he no worse. But if tings is goin' wrong, I'll let Papineau do it. I--I can't leaf no more. Vhen I starts from here I tank I can't stand it a moment--but vhen I get off on de road, I gets grazy to come back. I--I don't know vhat I vants!"

The doctor looked at him curiously, appreciating the depth of the man's emotion and gauging the strength of the superb creature he was.

"I won't let you take me if it isn't safe," he told him, and turned to his patient again.

"Do you expect to stay up all night?" he suddenly asked the girl.

"I--I am anxious to, if I can be of the slightest help."

"One can never tell," he replied. "I might be glad to have you with me. You don't lose your head--and you're efficient."

Presently Papineau arrived with his dogs and took his wife home. The good lady had looked upon the doctor's cutting with profound disfavor.

A suggestion of hers about herbs had been treated with scant respect.

Before leaving she spoke to Madge.

"I stay h'all night too--but it ain't no good, because if he lif to-morrow night den you go sleep an' I stay 'ere. Before I go to bed I prays moch. I--I 'opes he lif through de night--heem no more bad as heem was, anyvays, an' dat someting."

So they went away sorrowfully, to the little new-born calf and the babies and the children who needed them, and Stefan sat on the floor with his back to the wall, while Maigan snuggled up against him.

Dr. Starr remained all night, sometimes dozing a little on his chair, with the ability of the man often called at night to take little s.n.a.t.c.hes of sleep here and there, but Madge was at all times wide awake. Some time after midnight Hugo appeared to be sleeping quietly.

The valuable candles had been extinguished, of course, but the little lamp was burning, shaded on one side by a piece of birch bark. Stefan had gradually curled up on the floor, under the table, where he was out of the way, and was snoring l.u.s.tily. In the morning, doubtless, he would most honestly insist that he had not slept an instant. Out of doors the Swede's dogs had dug holes in the snow and, with sensitive noses covered by their bushy tails, were awaiting in slumber the next call from their master. The great falls kept up their moan and the trees swayed and cracked. A wind-borne branch, falling on the roof, made a sudden racket that was startling.

At frequent intervals Madge rose and gave Hugo some water, for which he always seemed grateful, or adjusted the pillow beneath his head.

Once, when she sat down again, she saw the doctor's eyes fixed upon her, gravely.

"You have the necessary instinct," he told her, "and the patience and perseverance. I don't know what your plans may be for the future, but you would make a good nurse."

Madge shrugged her shoulders, the tiniest bit. She didn't know. It didn't matter what she was fit for. The world so far had been a failure. The only important thing before her now was to do her best to help pull the sick man out of the jaws of death, if it could possibly be done. She sat down again, and after a time that seemed like an age the utter blackness without began to turn to gray and, in spite of the constantly replenished stove, the chill of the early morning struck deep into her. As the doctor looked at his watch she rose and began to make tea, which comforted them.

"Do you expect to keep on looking after this man?" the doctor asked her, abruptly, between two mouthfuls.

"Yes, of course, if I may," she answered.

"I should say that you will simply have to, if his life is to be saved, or at least if he's to have a fair chance. I shall be compelled to go pretty soon. As it is I won't get back home before noon and there are several bad cases I must see to-day. I'll return the day after to-morrow; it's the best I can do, for it is absolutely impossible for me to remain here. Now just listen to me very carefully while I give you the necessary directions. I think I'd better write some of them out so that you will be sure not to forget them. See if you can find me a bit of paper somewhere."

On one of the shelves there was a small homemade desk in which she rummaged. She found a number of loose bits of paper, some of them scribbled over in pencil and others with ink. They were apparently accounts, notes concerning various supplies and a few letters from various places. Finding a clean sheet she brought it to the doctor who rapidly wrote at length upon it. At this moment Stefan awoke, with a portentous yawn, but a second later he had leaped to his feet and was scanning their faces anxiously.