The Peace of Roaring River Part 14

Long minutes, forty or fifty of them, went by as she waited and listened. But presently Maigan, that had laid his head in her lap and was looking at her pitifully, as if he had been begging her to help the man he loved, rose suddenly and dashed to the door, barking. It proved to be Papineau and his wife, who was very breathless.

The man came in, looked at Hugo and rushed out again. He took the time to exchange his toboggan for Hugo's, which was lighter and to which he hitched his three powerful dogs. Madge went to him.

"You'll hurry, won't you?" she cried. "I--I'm afraid, I'm horribly afraid. Don't--don't come back without a doctor will you?"

"You bet de life, mees, I make dem dog 'urry plenty moch. Yes, ma'am, you bet!" he repeated, calmly, but looking at her with the strong steely eyes that seemed peculiar to these men of the great North.

He ran with his team up the path. When he reached the tote-road the girl saw that he had jumped on the sled, which was tearing away to the southward.

Within the shack Mrs. Papineau busied herself in many ways, placing things in order and fussing about the stove, upon which she had placed a pot containing more herbs she had brought with her. Every few minutes she interrupted her work in order to take another look at Hugo. Once or twice Madge saw a big tear roll down her fat cheeks, which she swiftly wiped off with her sleeve. A little later she managed to make the man swallow some of her concoction. He appeared to obey unconsciously, but when she spoke to him he just babbled something which neither of the women understood. Finally the Frenchwoman sat down at the side of Madge, snuffling a little, and began to whisper.

"Big strong man one day," she commented, "an' dis day seek an' weak lak one leetle child. Eet is de way so strange of de Providence. It look lak de good Lord make one fine man, fines' Heem can make--a man as should get de love of vomans an' leetle children--an' den Heem mak up his min' for to tak heem avay. An' Heem good Lord know why, but I tink I better pray. Maybe de good Lord Heem 'ear an' tink let heem lif a whiles yet, eh?"

And so the woman knelt down and repeated prayers, for the longest time, speaking hurriedly the invocations she had all her life, known by heart, and ending each one with the devout crossing of her breast.

Then Madge, for the first time in a very long while, remembered words she had so often heard in the little village church at home, which promised that whenever two or three were gathered together in the name of the Lord, He would be among them. Yes, she had heard that a.s.surance often in the place of wors.h.i.+p she could now see so vividly, in which the open windows, on summer days, let in the droning of the bees and the scent of honeysuckle outside. So she knelt beside the other woman and began to pray also, haltingly, in words that came well-nigh unbidden because they were the call of a heart in sore travail which had long forgotten how to pray for itself. And it seemed as if the great Power above must surely be listening.

Finally Mrs. Papineau rose. She was compelled to go back home and see that the children were fed. She promised she would return in a short time. The doctor would certainly not come before night, perhaps not even until early morning, for he would be compelled to make a journey on the train. Papineau would wait for him, of course. As soon as he had sent the message he would give the dogs a good feed and they would be ready for the return. Then when the doctor turned up, Papineau would rush him to Roaring River, and--and if the Lord was willing he might be able to do something, providing....

But she had to interrupt herself to wipe away another big tear. She placed a hand upon the girl's shoulder, seeking to encourage her a little, and started off, her heavy footsteps crackling over the snow.

Then silence came again, but for the hurried breathing of the sick man and the occasional sighs of Maigan, who refused food offered to him.

Madge forced herself to eat a little, dimly realizing that for a time there might be need of all her strength. After this she sat down again, feeling crushed with the sense of her helplessness and with the thought of the terribly long hours that must elapse before the doctor could arrive.

Once Hugo seemed to awaken, as if from a sleep. The hand that had lain so still seemed to grope, searchingly, and she placed her own upon it.

"Take you over--all right--to-morrow," he said. "It--it's a pity, because--because you're so--so good and kind, now," he muttered.

"She--she thinks I--I'm the dirt under her feet. Ain't--ain't you there, Stefan?"

His eyes searched the room for a moment. Then, with a look of disappointment, his head sagged down on the pillow again and he lay quiet for a long time, till he began to mutter words that were disconnected and meaningless to her.

The noon hour came and went, with a glowing sun that shone brightly over the snow and tinted the mist from the great falls with the colors of the rainbow. But Madge did not see it, for within the little shack the panes were dimmed by the frost. The stove crackled and spat, with the sudden little explosions of wood fires. Close to it one felt very warm but the heat did not extend far, since the cold seemed to be seeking ever to penetrate the room, making its way beneath the door and through some of the c.h.i.n.ked s.p.a.ces between the logs. It affected Madge now as a sort of enemy, this cold that seemed to be on the watch for victims. It was one of the things that were always rising up in order to crush struggling men and women.

Another hour elapsed, that had been cruelly long, when Maigan suddenly leaped up and stood before the door, with hair bristling all over him and standing like a ridge along his back. He scratched furiously and looked back, as if demanding to be let out, and kept up a long, ominous growl that was very different from his usual bark.

Madge went to the door, feeling very uneasy. She opened it, after slipping her hand under Maigan's collar. Upon the tote-road she saw a large sled that had been drawn by a pair of strong, s.h.a.ggy horses, which a man was blanketing. From where she stood she heard confused voices of men and women, all of whom were strangers to her. They seemed to be consulting together. Finally they came down the path towards the shack, nine or ten of them, walking slowly and looking grim and unfriendly. Maigan was now barking fiercely and Madge had to struggle with him to prevent his das.h.i.+ng out towards them.

CHAPTER X

Stefan Runs

Philippe Papineau rode nearly all the way on the toboggan, sparing the dogs only in the hardest places on rising ground. The animals had been well-fed on the previous night and the trip around the trapping line had not been a hard one. It represented but a mere fifty miles or so, over which they had only hauled one man's food in three days, with his blankets and a small shelter-tent he used when forced to stop away from one of the small huts he had built on the line. In fact, there had been little need of three dogs, but Papineau had taken them because it kept up their training. In the pink of condition, therefore, the team bade fair to equal Stefan's best performances.

The Frenchman was within sight of the smokestack rising from Carcajou's sawmill when he opened his eyes, widely. A pair of horses was coming along the old road, drawing a big sled. As the old lumber trail was used only by dog-teams, as a rule, this surprised him. A moment later he clucked at his dogs, which drew to one side, and the horses, from whose s.h.a.ggy bodies a cloud of steam was rising, came abreast of him. The sled stopped.

"h.e.l.lo there, Papineau!" called one of the men. "Going in for provisions? Thought you hauled in a barrel of flour last week."

"Uh huh," a.s.sented Philippe, non-committally.

"Is that fellow Ennis over to his shack?" asked McIntosh, the squaw-man.

"Uh huh," repeated the settler.

"D'ye happen to know whether there's a--a young 'ooman there too?"

"Vat you vant wid dat gal?" asked Papineau this time.

"We're just goin' visitin', like," Pat Kilrea informed him. "It's sure a fine day for a ride in the country. And so that there young 'ooman's been up there a matter o' three-four days, ain't she?"

"I tink so," a.s.sented Philippe.

"D'ye know who she is?" asked Mrs. Kilrea, a severe looking and angular woman.

"Sure, heem gal is friend o' Hugo," answered the Frenchman, simply.

"Mebbe you better no go to-day. Hugo heem seek. I got to 'urry, so good-by."

He lashed his dogs on again, while Pat cracked his whip and the party went on. Mrs. Kilrea was looking rather horrified, thought Sophy McGurn. Her turn was coming at last. There would be a scene that would repay her for her trouble, she gleefully decided.

As they went on at a steady pace, over a road which none but horses inured to lumbering could have followed without breaking a leg or getting hopelessly stalled in deep snow, Philippe hurried over to the station and got Joe Follansbee to send a telegram. The young man would have given a good deal to have made one of the party but his official duties detained him.

"Who wants a doctor?" he asked, curiously.

"Hugo," answered Papineau, impatiently. "You don't h'ask so moch question, you fellar. Jus' telegraph quick now an' h'ask for answer ven dat _docteur_ he come, you 'ear me?"

Joe looked at the Frenchman, intending to resent his sharp orders, but thought better of it. The small, square-built, wide-shouldered man was not one to be trifled with. He was known as a calm, cool sort of a chap with little sense of humor, and the youth reflected that, in this neck of the woods, it was best not to trifle with men who were apt to end a quarrel by fighting over an acre of ground and mauling one another until one or both parties were utterly unrecognizable, even to their best friends.

"Come back in about an hour and I expect I'll have an answer," he told the Frenchman, quite meekly.

The latter went into McGurn's store and purchased some tobacco and a few needed groceries. Suddenly he bethought himself of Stefan.

"_Mon Dieu!_" he exclaimed. "Heem ought know right avay, sure."

He drove his team around to Stefan's smithy but failed to find him. At the house Mrs. Olsen told him that her husband had gone out a half an hour ago. He would probably be at Olaf Jonson's, at the other end of the village. Thither drove Philippe and found his man.

"'Ello, Stefan, want for see you right avay," said the trapper. "Come 'long!"

The Swede hastened to him.

"Vat it iss, Philippe?" he asked, eyeing the dogs expertly. "Py de looks off tem togs I tink you ban in some hurry, no?"

"Uh huh! I come to telegraph for de _docteur_. Hugo heem 'urted h'awful bad. Look lak' heem die, mebbe."

Stefan bellowed out an oath and began running towards his house at a tremendous gait. Papineau jumped on his toboggan and followed, only catching up after they had gone a couple of hundred yards. When they reached Olsen's, the latter went in, shouted out the news and came out again. With the help of Papineau he hitched up his own great team of five.

"Tank you for lettin' me know, Papineau," he said. "I get ofer dere so tam qvick you don't belief, I tank. So long!"