Doctor Luke of the Labrador Part 28

"You'll _not_ go!" I screamed. "Leave the dog t' die!"

Very gently, the doctor put his arm around me, and gave me to my sister, who drew me to her heart, whispering soft words in my ear: for I had no power to resist, having broken into sobs. Then they went out: and upon this I broke roughly from my sister, and ran to my own room; and I threw myself on my bed, and there lay in the dark, crying bitterly--not because the doctor had gone his errand against my will, but because my mother was dead, and I should never hear her voice again, nor touch her hand, nor feel her lips against my cheek. And there I lay alone, in deepest woe, until the doctor came again; and when I heard him on the stair--and while he drew a chair to my bed and felt about for my hand--I still sobbed: but no longer hated him, for I had all the time been thinking of my mother in a better way.

"Davy," he said, gravely, "the man is dead."

"I'm glad!" I cried.

He ignored this. "I find it hard, Davy," said he, after a pause, "not to resent your displeasure. Did I not know you so well--were I less fond of the real Davy Roth--I should have you ask my pardon. However, I have not come up to tell you that; but this: you can, perhaps, with a good heart hold enmity against a dying man; but the physician, Davy, may not. Do you understand, Davy?"

"I'm sorry I done what I did, zur," I muttered, contritely. "But I'm wonderful glad the man's dead."

"For shame!"

"I'm glad!"

He left me in a huff.

"An' I'll _be_ glad," I shouted after him, at the top of my voice, "if I got t' go 't h.e.l.l for it!"

'Twas my nature.

Tom Tot returned downcast from Wayfarer's Tickle: having for three days sought his daughter, whom he could not find; nor was word of her anywhere to be had. Came, then, the winter--with high winds and snow and short gray days: sombre and bitter cold. Our folk fled to the tilts at the Lodge; and we were left alone with the maids and Timmie Lovejoy in my father's house: but had no idle times, for the doctor would not hear of it, but kept us at work or play, without regard for our wishes in the matter. 'Twas the doctor's delight by day to don his new skin clothes (which my sister had finished in haste after the first fall of snow) and with help of Timmie Lovejoy to manage the dogs and komatik, flying here and there at top speed, with many a shout and crack of the long whip. By night he kept school in the kitchen, which we must all diligently attend, even to the maids: a profitable occupation, no doubt, but laborious, to say the least of it, though made tolerable by his good humour. By and by there came a call from Blister Harbour, which was forty miles to the north of us, where a man had shot off his hand--another from Red Cove, eighty miles to the south--others from Backwater Arm and Molly's Tub. And the doctor responded, afoot or with the dogs, as seemed best at the moment: myself to bear him company; for I would have it so, and he was nothing loath.

XX

CHRISTMAS EVE at TOPMAST TICKLE

Returning afoot from the bedside of Long John Wise at Run-by-Guess--and from many a bedside and wretched hearth by the way--the doctor and I strapped our packs aback and heartily set out from the Hudson's Bay Company's post at Bread-and-Water Bay in the dawn of the day before Christmas: being then three weeks gone from our harbour, and, thinking to reach it next day. We were to chance hospitality for the night; and this must be (they told us) at the cottage of a man of the name of Jonas Jutt, which is at Topmast Tickle. There was a l.u.s.ty old wind scampering down the coast, with many a sportive whirl and whoop, flinging the snow about in vast delight--a big, rollicking winter's wind, blowing straight out of the north, at the pitch of half a gale. With this abeam we made brave progress; but yet 'twas late at night when we floundered down the gully called Long-an'-Deep, where the drifts were overhead and each must rescue the other from sudden misfortune: a warm glimmer of light in Jonas Jutt's kitchen window to guide and hearten us.

The doctor beat the door with his fist. "Open, open!" cried he, still furiously knocking. "Good Lord! will you never open?"

So gruff was the voice, so big and commanding--and so sudden was the outcry--and so late was the night and wild the wind and far away the little cottage--that the three little Jutts, who then (as it turned out) sat expectant at the kitchen fire, must all at once have huddled close; and I fancy that Sammy blinked no longer at the crack in the stove, but slipped from his chair and limped to his sister, whose hand he clutched.

"We'll freeze, I tell you!" shouted the doctor. "Open the---- Ha! Thank you," in a mollified way, as Skipper Jonas opened the door; and then, most engagingly: "May we come in?"

"An' welcome, zur," said the hearty Jonas, "whoever you be! 'Tis gettin'

t' be a wild night."

"Thank you. Yes--a wild night. Glad to catch sight of your light from the top of the hill. We'll leave the racquets here. Straight ahead?

Thank you. I see the glow of a fire."

We entered.

"h.e.l.lo!" cried the doctor, stopping short. "What's this? Kids? Good!

Three of them. Ha! How are you?"

The manner of asking the question was most indignant, not to say threatening; and a gasp and heavy frown accompanied it. By this I knew that the doctor was about to make sport for Martha and Jimmie and Sammy Jutt (as their names turned out to be): which often he did for children by pretending to be in a great rage; and invariably they found it delicious entertainment, for however fiercely he bl.u.s.tered, his eyes twinkled most merrily all the time, so that one was irresistibly moved to chuckle with delight at the sight of them, no matter how suddenly or how terribly he drew down his brows.

"I like kids," said he, with a smack of the lips. "I eat 'em!"

Gurgles of delight escaped from the little Jutts--and each turned to the other: the eyes of all dancing.

"And how are _you_?" the doctor demanded.

His fierce little glance was indubitably directed at little Sammy, as though, G.o.d save us! the lad had no right to be anything _but_ well, and ought to be, and should be, birched on the instant if he had the temerity to admit the smallest ache or pain from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. But Sammy looked frankly into the flashing eyes, grinned, chuckled audibly, and lisped that he was better.

"Better?" growled the doctor, searching Sammy's white face and skinny body as though for evidence to the contrary. "I'll attend to _you_!"

Thereupon Skipper Jonas took us to the shed, where we laid off our packs and were brushed clean of snow; and by that time Matilda Jutt, the mother of Martha and Jimmie and Sammy, had spread the table with the best she had--little enough, G.o.d knows! being but bread and tea--and was smiling beyond. Presently there was nothing left of the bread and tea; and then we drew up to the fire, where the little Jutts still sat, regarding us with great interest. And I observed that Martha Jutt held a letter in her hand: whereupon I divined precisely what our arrival had interrupted, for I was Labrador born, and knew well enough what went on in the kitchens of our land of a Christmas Eve.

"And now, my girl," said the doctor, "what's what?"

By this extraordinary question--delivered, as it was, in a manner that called imperatively for an answer--Martha Jutt was quite nonplussed: as the doctor had intended she should be.

"What's what?" repeated the doctor.

Quite startled, Martha lifted the letter from her lap. "He's not comin', zur," she gasped, for lack of something better.

"You're disappointed, I see," said the doctor. "So he's not coming?"

"No, zur--not this year."

"That's too bad. But you mustn't mind it, you know--not for an instant.

What's the matter with him?"

"He've broke his leg, zur."

"What!" cried the doctor, restored of a sudden to his natural manner.

"Poor fellow! How did he come to do that?"

"Catchin' one o' they wild deer, zur."

"Catching a deer!" the doctor exclaimed. "A most extraordinary thing. He was a fool to try it. How long ago?"

"Sure, it can't be more than half an hour; for he've----"

The doctor jumped up. "Where is he?" he demanded, with professional eagerness. "It can't be far. Davy, I must get to him at once. I must attend to that leg. Where is he?"

"Narth Pole, zur," whispered Sammy.

"Oh-h-h!" cried the doctor; and he sat down again, and pursed his lips, and winked at Sammy in a way most peculiar. "I _see_!"