My Brave and Gallant Gentleman Part 54

I looked along the sheets that covered me.

It was Mary.

All I could see of her head were the coils of her golden hair, for she had my hand in both her own and her face was hidden on the bed-spread.

I could hear her voice whispering softly. She was praying. She repeated my name ever so often. She was praying that I might be allowed to live.

From that moment I lived and grew stronger. But I dared not move in case I might disturb her.

She rose at last and bent over my bandaged head. She scrutinised my face. As she leaned closer, I caught the fragrance of her breath and the perfume of her hair. And then,--G.o.d forgive me for my deceit!

although, for such an ecstasy I would go on being deceitful to the end of time,--she stooped lower and her full, soft, warm lips touched mine.

I raised my eyelids to her blushing loveliness. I tried to smile, but she put her finger up demanding silence. She fed me again and new strength flowed through my veins.

What questions I asked her then! How did I get here? What day of the week was it? Was Joe Clark dead?

"Hush, hush!" she chided. "You must go on sleeping."

"But I can't sleep forever. Already I have been asleep for years," I complained feebly.

"Hush, then, and I will tell you."

She sat down by my bedside and I lay still and quiet as she went over what she knew.

"This is Sat.u.r.day evening. I found you, lying unconscious,--dead as I thought,--out on the path, as I went for fresh water yesterday morning.

"I brought you here. I did not know what had befallen you. I was afraid you had been set upon by the thieves who tried to rob Jake Meaghan; but from what you have just said, it was Superintendent Clark who attacked you."

I nodded.

"Was he not lying there beside me,--dead?" I asked.

"Hush! There was no one near you; but the place looked as if a herd of buffalo had thundered over it."

I was puzzled, but I tried to laugh and the attempt hurt me.

"How did you get me here?" I interrupted.

"Now!" she said, "if you speak again, I will tell you nothing.

"I ran home for blankets. I got two poles and fixed the blankets to these. I rolled you over on to my improvised stretcher and trailed you here, Indian fashion. It was easy as easy. Mrs. Malmsbury was abed and I did not wish to disturb her just then. Later, when I got you here, she helped me to put you to bed.

"Oh! I am so glad that man did not murder you."

"But it would not have been murder, Mary," I put in. "It was a fair fight."

"But why should two, strong, clean-living young men want to fight?

Don't answer me, George," she added quickly, "for I am merely cogitating. Men seem such strange animals to us women."

I smiled.

Other questions I asked, but Mary declined to answer and I had, perforce, to lie still, with nothing to do but follow her with my eyes wherever she went.

For one more day, she kept me on my back, bullying me and tyrannising over me, when I felt strong enough to be up and about my business.

Sometimes, when she came near enough, I would lay my hand over hers.

She would permit the caress as if she were indulging a spoiled baby.

Sometimes, I would lie with my eyes closed in the hope that she might be tempted to kiss me, as she had done before; but Mary Grant saw through the pretence and declined to become a party to it.

The Rev. Mr. Auld came during the early afternoon of that Sunday. He examined my bruises and contusions with professional brutality. He winked, and ordered me up, dressed and into a wicker chair,--for the lazy, good-for-nothing rascal that I was. And,--G.o.d bless his kindly old heart!--he told Mary I might smoke, in moderation.

He did not remain long, for he said he had been called to attend another and a very urgent case of a malady similar to mine, at Camp No.

2.

"Why!--that's Joe Clark's Camp," I said.

"I am well aware of the fact," said he. "If you ask any more questions or venture any more information, I shall order you back to bed and I shall cancel your smoking permit."

As he was going off, he came over to me and whispered in my ear:--

"Man!--I would give something for the power of your right arm."

All the remainder of that afternoon, Mary read to me, as I browsed [Transcriber's note: drowsed?] in an easy chair among cushions and rugs, stretching first one leg and then the other, testing my arms, trying every joint, every finger and toe, to satisfy myself that I was still George Bremner, complete in every detail.

Just as Mary was preparing to say good-bye to my little place, late that same day,--for her vigils over me were no longer necessary,--Rita Clark ran in, flushed with hurried rowing and labouring under a strong excitement. She flashed defiance at Mary, then she threw herself at my feet and sobbed as if her little heart would break.

I put my hand on her head and tried to comfort her, and, when I looked up again, she and I were alone.

"Rita, Rita!" I admonished.

"Oh!--no one told me," she wailed. "And it was all my fault. I know I should not have come when Joe was that way about it.

"If he had killed you! Oh! George,--if he had killed you!"

Her eyes were red from weeping and dread still showed in her expressive face.

"There, there," I comforted. "He did not kill me, Rita, so why worry?

"I shall be back at work in the store to-morrow, same as before. Cheer up, little girl!"

"But n.o.body at the Camp can understand it," she went on with more composure. "They all knew there had been a fight. They were sure you had been killed, for n.o.body ever stands up against Joe without coming down harder than he does, and they say Joe was pretty nearly done for."

"How is he now?" I inquired, inquisitive to know if he were suffering at least some of what I had suffered.

"Mr. Auld just came in as I left. Joe's been unconscious for two days."

"Good!" I exclaimed, almost in delight.

Rita's face expressed a chiding her tongue refused to give.