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Three Boys; or, the Chiefs of the Clan Mackhai, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 21. An Anxious Time |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. AN ANXIOUS TIME The Mackhai did not return home till the next morning, and his first inquiry was why had not a doctor been fetched. He nodded with satisfaction at the answer he received. Tavish and Grant had sat up all night with their young master, and Max had been to them at least a dozen times, for a consultation to be held at daybreak, and for Tavish to agree that something must be done. The result had been that he and Long Shon had taken the boat before sunrise, and gone off to Port Staffey, where Grant knew a medical man to be staying for a holiday, and to fish. For poor Kenneth was quite delirious, and about midday, after going out on the terrace to scan the offing eagerly for signs of the boat, The Mackhai went back into the house, and up to his son's room, to hear the injured lad talking at random, and a hoarse sob escaped from the father's lips. "My poor boy!" he groaned; "and am I to lose you? Well, better so, perhaps--better than to live a beggar, ready to curse your weak father for the ruin he has brought--Hah! how came you here?" His voice had changed from a soft, appealing tone to one full of angry annoyance, as he saw Max slowly rise up from the other side of the bed, where he had been seated, hidden by the curtain. "I came to sit with poor Kenneth, sir. I beg your pardon. I'll go now." "If you please," said The Mackhai coldly, and there was a bitterly fierce look of dislike in his eyes, as he crossed toward the door and threw it open for Max to pass out; but the next moment he had closed it hastily, and he held out his hand. Max looked at him wonderingly. "I beg your pardon, Mr Blande," said The Mackhai, in a low voice, full of courteous apology. "I am in trouble, and hardly know what I have been saying." He pointed as he spoke toward the bed, and then his countenance worked, and he wrung the boy's hand warmly, as Max caught his, and whispered in broken tones,-- "Oh, sir, you don't think he is so very bad?" "I hope not, my lad, I hope not. Thank you, thank you. No, no, don't go. You are Kenneth's visitor and friend." "But do pray tell me what you think of him," whispered Max excitedly. "I cannot say. We shall have the doctor here soon." "I should like to stay and hear what he says, sir; and then--perhaps--I ought not to--I shall be--intruding--I ought to go away." "No, no," said The Mackhai hastily; "certainly not. My boy would not wish you to leave him--that is, if you wish to stay." "May I?" cried Max, with such intense earnestness that his host looked at him wonderingly. "I beg you will stay, Mr Blande," he said; "and let's hope that he will be better soon. By the way, I hope you will forget what you heard me say." Just then Kenneth turned uneasily upon his pillow, muttering quickly the while. Now he seemed to be talking to his dogs, now his words were a confused babbling, and then the occupants of the darkened room started as he burst into a fit of laughter, and said merrily,-- "No, no, Scoody; it's too bad! Poor old Max!" Max felt the blood rise to his cheeks and gradually pale away; and then, for quite two hours, father and visitor sat watching, the monotony of the vigil being broken by an occasional walk to a window, which commanded the sea, and at last Max was able to announce that the boat was in sight. "Thank heaven!" muttered The Mackhai. They had to wait for a full half-hour, though, before they could be satisfied that there was a third person in the boat--all doubt being set at rest by The Mackhai fetching his binocular, whose general use was for deerstalking, but by whose help he was able to see that the third party in the boat was a stern-looking, dark, middle-aged man, who might very well be the doctor. The doctor it was, and, after a careful examination, he confirmed Tavish's declaration. "Oh no, my dear sir, I don't think it is as bad as that. The boy has concussion of the brain, and he is a great deal hurt beside; but he is young and vigorous, and I think I may venture to say that we'll pull him through. It would have killed you or me, but he is a boy accustomed evidently to a rough life." The Mackhai wrung his hand: he could not speak for a few minutes, and the doctor left him to go back to the bedside to replace the coverlid Kenneth had tossed off, but The Mackhai noted that the doctor was too late, for Max was performing this little office, and the father observed that the lad gently laid his hand upon his son's brow. "Of course you will stay and dine, Mr--?" "Curzon," said the doctor, smiling. "Mr Curzon; and then see my boy again before you go?" "My dear sir, I shall be very glad to do so; but I think, under the circumstances, I ought to stay the night." "Will you?" cried The Mackhai eagerly. "With pleasure. I am down here fishing, and one place is the same to me as another. If I can serve you, I shall only be too glad." "My good sir," cried The Mackhai, "you are taking a load off my mind! Pray, pray stay, and if you care to fish, my river and loch are at your service,--tackle, boats, keepers, everything,--while they are mine," he added to himself. "Then," said the doctor, smiling, "I am your private medical attendant for the next week; and to-morrow, if you will send your boat for my traps from the hotel at Staffey--" "Yes, to-night," said The Mackhai hastily; and he left the room, thankful for the ray of light which had come into his darkening life, but hurrying back, to find Kenneth holding tightly by Max's hand as he kept on talking, while the doctor was letting a few drops fall from a little bottle he had brought, into a glass of water. "There," he said, "we'll get him to take that, and I think we shall get some sleep afterwards. To-morrow we must hope for better things." But the morrow came, and the hope was not fulfilled. Kenneth Mackhai, in spite of his youth and strength, was dangerously ill, and the doctor's face wore an anxious look. "I have ordered my men to have everything ready for you, Mr Curzon," said The Mackhai, with enforced calmness; and Max darted an angry glance on the man who could think of sport at a time like that. "What, to fish, Mr Mackhai?" said the doctor quickly. "No, thank you; I'll wait till I can go more at ease." "Thank you," said The Mackhai, in a husky voice; and Max darted now a grateful look. "But pray speak plainly to me: you think my poor boy very bad?" "Yes, sir, very bad indeed; but, please God, we'll pull him through." The Mackhai drew a long and painful breath, and, as Max looked towards him, he thought he had never seen so sad a countenance before. He stole out on tip-toe, for it seemed to him that he was not wanted there; but, as he reached the landing, The Mackhai touched him on the shoulder: "Come back soon," he whispered. "Kenneth seems more restful while you are here." Max nodded silently, and hurried down to talk for a few moments with Tavish and Scoodrach of the patient's state. Then he hurried back, thinking, as he went up to Kenneth's room, that it must be months since he came, and he wondered how it was that he could feel so much at home. _ |
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