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To The West, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 37. In The Spring |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. IN THE SPRING Ask anybody what is the most delicious thing in life, and see what he or she will say. I do not believe any one will tell you what I do now. It is to have been dangerously ill, to be brought down very weak, to be getting better, and then to be carried or led out to sit in the sunshine of some bright genial morning. Ah! that long breath of sweet life-inspiring air--those trees--those flowers--the blue sky--the bark of that dog--those kindly words of inquiry--that all-round feeling of joy and delight at being out there once more; the sensation which will bring the weak tears in your eyes for the simple reason that you are so happy. Yes, it is a pleasant thing to have been very ill, if only for the sake of the thankful sensation that comes the first time you go out once more in the bright sunshine. How delightful it was, and what a long weary dream of misery I had passed through! I hardly knew even then how bad I had been. When I spoke to Esau he used to screw his face up full of wrinkles, and shake his head, while Mr Raydon was as reticent. "Never mind that," he would say; "you are better now." I learned later though, that for several months he had been in great doubt of my recovery. My wound would not heal, consequent upon a ragged fragment of the rifle-bullet remaining beneath a bone, and when at last it did come away, I was weak in the extreme, and, as Esau said, "You couldn't get a doctor when you liked out there." So there I lay all through the long dark days of the winter, listening sometimes to the howling of the winds from the mountains, then to the beat and rush of the rain, and then at my worst time wondering why everything was so quiet, and learning from Esau that we were snowed up deeply. I remember that he used to talk rapturously about the beauty of the scene around, with the great pine-trees loaded down with snow, and the sun in the clear blue sky, making the crystals of ice glitter till his eyes ached. "And you won't get up and come and have a look," he said. "You are a fellow." "Yes, I am a fellow," I replied. "Don't bother me, Esau. I want to go to sleep." "But you're always going to sleep," he cried; "and so much sleep can't be good for you." All the same I passed through that long winter, and it seemed as if I never should be strong again. But, as the old country folk say, "Never's a long day"; and as the earth began to waken from its lone sleep, so did I, and at last I was dressed to sit by the bonny log fire Esau kept up as if he meant to roast me. There came a day when I sat with my window open, listening to the roar of the river, thinking and ready to ask myself whether it had all been a dream. Then another day, when the sun was shining, and the scent of the pines came to where I sat; and at last in the spring-time I was to go out for the first time. I had to lean on patient, constant Esau, and use a stick to get to where a chair had been set for me at the foot of a great Douglas pine, where the moss was golden green, and the barberry leaves bright with a purply bronze. The river ran foaming and splashing before me at the bottom of a slope, looking milky and dirty, but down the rocks close by tumbled and sparkled one of the many tiny streams, and this was clear as crystal, and the brook flashed like diamonds in the bright sunshine. There was a great scarlet blanket thrown over the chair, ready to be drawn round me as soon as I had taken my seat; and as soon as Esau had safely piloted me there, looking serious as a judge all the time, he suddenly seemed to go mad, for he cut a curious caper, threw his cap high up in the air, and shouted "Hurrah." "There," he cried, as I lay back smiling and content, "you just say you ain't getting well, and I'll pitch into you." "I'm not going to say it," I said. "Oh, Esau, I do feel so weak, but so happy and well. I say though, don't shoot me again." Esau's countenance changed. All the pleasure faded out, and he turned his back, and began walking slowly away. "Esau," I said, "don't go." "I must," he said, stopping short, but without trying to face me. "Got to fetch your stoo. He said it was the best physic you could take." "But, Esau, I don't want it now; I'm sorry I said that." "So am I; sooner ha' shot myself hundreds o' times. Wish I had shot myself dead instead, and then you wouldn't be able to jump on me." "It was very unkind," I said; "please forgive me." "All right, I'm going to fetch your stoo." He did not turn round, but walked away toward the gate of the palisade just as there was a fierce deep-toned barking, and Rough came bounding down toward my chair. "He'll knock me over," I thought, as I saw his gleaming teeth, and the thick pile of hair about his neck, a natural armour which had protected him in many an encounter with wolf or bear. And for the moment it seemed as if the great animal would send me clean over as he charged wildly; but just as he was close to me he turned off, dashed away, came back, up and down, barking furiously, and ended by making a sudden stop, to stand there with his great muzzle laid in my lap, and his eyes looking earnestly up in mine. I placed my hand upon his head, and as I did so I could not help thinking how thin and white it was; and this made me lie back recalling how bad I must have been, and how clever Mr Raydon had been to save my life, tending me as he had just like a doctor. That made me think too of every one else--the men's wives, who had waited on me and brought me flowers; Grey, who shot game; and above all of Quong and Esau, who had seemed to spend all their time in attending upon one who had been irritable, and as helpless as a baby. As I thought, my fingers played about the great head in my lap, pulling the long ears, stroking the muzzle, and all the time the eyes blinked up at me, and once there was a long-drawn sigh as of satisfaction, which made me ready to fancy that even the dog was glad to see me out again after my long, weary illness. All at once Rough raised his head and uttered a low, muttering growl, followed by a couple of short barks; and on looking round there were Esau and Quong coming, the latter bearing a basin and a plate of bread. "Velly good soup," said Quong, eagerly. "Velly stlong. Quite leady." He placed the basin on my knees, Rough drawing back a little, and looking as if it was hard work not to make a snatch at that cake and bear it off. But he had been well trained, and sat watching me patiently, content to catch the pieces thrown to him with a loud snap, while I partook of what Esau called my "stoo." It was very good, and "so stlong," as Quong called it, that I felt as if I ought to feel the strength coming back into my weak arms and legs. "Dlink um allee up," said Quong; and I persevered and finished the contents of the basin, which he then took, nodded at me, and then turned to the dog, who stood now on all fours and barked at him fiercely. "Hey?" cried Quong. "You say wantee allee bone left?" There was a peal of furious barks here. "Allee light. You come 'long. Velly good dog." Rough uttered another hoarse bay, and went off after the little Chinaman, looking so big by his side that I could not help thinking of what the consequences might have been if they had proved enemies instead of friends. "Well, Esau," I said, "I'm a long time growing well." "Oh, I don't know. You're getting on now fast. I say, do you ever think about that gold now?" "Oh, yes," I replied, with a shudder; "often." "Well," he said, in an ill-used tone, "you needn't think of the accident too. For it was an accident, you know." "Yes, we've talked about that times enough, all those weary months." "Yes, it was tiring, and it put a stop to all the hunting and shooting we might have had. But it's been good as well as bad. You missed lots of bad weather, and cold, and snow." "What's the day of the month?" I said. "Day of the month? I dunno. End of March, they say, and it's going to be fine weather now." "Has Mr Raydon ever said anything to you about the gold?" "No, never a word. But I say, it do seem a pity not to get more of it, don't it?" "I don't know," I replied. "I want strength, not gold. How long will it be before Mr and Mrs John get here?" "Ah, that's what I want to know," cried Esau. "I was thinking about that this morning; leastwise I wasn't thinking about them, but about mother. Wonder what she'll say to me when she knows?" "Knows what?" "'Bout me shooting you. She will be wild, for she was a deal fonder of you than she was of me." "Nonsense, Esau!" I cried. "Why, she used to talk to me about you for hours." "Dessay she did. But, I say, do make haste and get well before the Indians come again. Grey says they'll be here soon with loads of skins that they've shot and trapped in the winter." Our conversation was interrupted by the coming of Mr Raydon. "Ah, Mayne," he said; "that's better. You must keep that up every day when it's fine. Fresh air and the scent of our pines form the finest strengthening medicine a sick man can have." He stopped chatting to me for some time, and at last I ventured upon the topic which interested both Esau and myself. "How long do I think it will be before the travellers get across to us? Hah! that's a poser, my lad. So much depends upon my sister's health, and her ability to travel. Of course they have been resting during the worst time. However, I hope they will not be here till you are thoroughly on your legs again." _ |
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