The Little Red Foot Part 52

"Well, then," said Nick, "in G.o.d's name let us get him to the Summer House, where the surgeon of the Continentals can treat him properly, and the ladies there nurse him----"

That roused me, and I strove to sit up, but could not.

"I shall not go to Summer House!" I cried. "If I am in need of a surgeon, bring him here; but I want no women near me!--I do not desire any woman at Summer House to nurse me or aid or touch me----"

In my angry excitement at the very remembrance of Lady Johnson and Claudia, and of Penelope, whom I had beheld in Steve Watts' arms--and of that man himself, who had come spying,--I forced my body upright, furious at the mere thought and swore I had rather die here in camp than be taken thither.

Then, suddenly my elbow crumpled under me, and I fell back in an agony of pain so great that presently the world grew swiftly black and I knew no more.

CHAPTER XX

IN SHADOW-LAND

When I became conscious, I was lying under blankets upon a trundle-bed, within the four walls of a very small room.

I wore a night-shift which was not mine, being finer and oddly ruffled; and under it my naked body was as stiff as a pike pole, and bound up like a mummy. My right thigh, too, was stiffly swathed and trussed, and I thought I should stifle from the heat of the blankets.

My mind was clear; I was aware of no sharp pain, no fever; but felt very weak, and could have slept again, only that perspiration drenched me and made me restless even as I dozed.

Sometime afterward--the same day, I think--I awoke in some pain, and realized that I was lying on my right side and that the wound in my thigh was being dressed.

The place smelled rank, like a pharmacy, and slightly sickened me.

There were several people in the little room. I saw Nick kneeling beside the bed, holding a pewter basin full of steaming water, and a Continental officer with his wrist-bands tucked up, choosing forceps from a battered leather case.

I could not move my body; my head seemed too heavy to lift; but I was aware of a woman standing close to where my head rested. I could see her two feet in their buckled shoes, and her petticoat of cotton stuff printed in flowers.

When the surgeon had done a-packing my wound with lint, pain had left me weak and indifferent, and I lay heavily, with lids closed.

Also, I had seen and heard enough to satisfy what languid curiosity I might have possessed. For I was in the gun-room at Summer House, whither, it appeared, they had taken me, despite my command to the contrary.

But now I was too weary to resent it; too listless to worry; too incurious to wonder who it might be that was at any pains to care for my broken body at Summer House Point.

Nick came, later, and I opened my eyes, but made no effort to speak. He seemed pleased, however, and gave me a filthy and bitter draught, which I swallowed, but which so madded me that I swore at him.

Whereupon he smiled and wiped my lips and tucked in the accursed blankets that had been stifling me and which now sc.r.a.ped my unshaven chin.

"d.a.m.nation!" I whispered, "you smother me, drown me in sweat, and feed me gall and wormwood!"

And I closed my eyes to sleep; but found my mind not so inclined, and lay half dozing, conscious of the sunlight on the floor.

So I was awake when he arrived again with a pot o' broth.

"Can you not leave me in peace!" said I, so savagely that he laughed outright and bent over, stirring the broth and grinning down at me.

Spoonful by spoonful I swallowed the broth. There was wine in it. This made me drowsy.

To keep account of time, whether it were still this day or the next, or how the hours were pa.s.sing, had been a matter of indifference to me. Or how the world wagged outside the golden dusk of this small room had interested me not at all.

My Continental surgeon, whom they called Dr. Thatcher, came twice a day and went smartly about his business.

Nick dosed me and fed me. I had asked no questions; but my mind had become sullen and busy; and now I was groping backward and searching memory to find the time and place when I had lost touch with the world and with the business which had brought me into these parts.

All was clearly linked up to the time that Balty shot me. Afterward, only fragments of the chain of events remained in my memory. I heard again the thud of Balty's body on the puncheon floor, when Luysnes cut him down from the rafters of Howell's house. I remember that I saw men take ditch-spades to bury the dead. I remember that my body seemed all afire and that I became enraged and forbade them to take me to Summer House.

Further--and of the blank s.p.a.ces between--I had no recollection save that the whole world seemed burning up in darkness and that my body was being consumed like a f.a.got in some h.e.l.lish conflagration, where the flames were black and gave no light.

This day Dr. Thatcher and Nick washed me and closed my wounds.

There had been, it appeared, some drains left in them. The stiff harness on my ribs they left untouched. I breathed, now, without any pain, but itched most d.a.m.nably.

My closed wounds itched. I desired broth no longer and demanded meat.

But got none and swore at Nick.

A barber from the Continental camp arrived to trim me. He took a beard from me that amazed me, and enough hair to awake the envy of a school-girl--for I refused to wear a queue, and bade him trim my pol a la Coureur-du-Bois.

Now this barber, who was a private soldier, seemed willing to gossip; and of him I asked my first questions concerning the outside world and train of events.

But I soon perceived that all he knew was the veriest camp gossip, and that his budget of rumours and reports was of no value whatever. For he said that our armies were everywhere victorious; that the British armies were on the run; and that the war would be over in another month.

Everybody, quoth he, would become rich and happy, with General Washington for our King, and every general a duke or marquis, and every soldier a landed proprietor, with nothing to do save sit on his porch, smoke his pipe, and watch his slaves plow his broad acres.

When this sorry a.s.s took his leave, I had long since ceased to listen to him.

I felt very well, except for the accursed itching where my flesh was mending, and rib-bones knitting.

Dr. Thatcher came in. He was booted, spurred, wore pistols and sword, and a military foot-mantle.

When he caught my eyes he smiled slightly and asked me how I did. And I expressed my grat.i.tude as suitably as I knew how, saying that I was well and desired to rise and be about my business.

"In two weeks," he said, which took me aback.

"Do you know how long you have been here?" he asked, amused.

"Some three or four days, I suppose.

"A month today, Mr. Drogue."

This stunned me. He seated himself on the camp-stool beside my trundle-bed.

"What preys upon your mind, Mr. Drogue?" he asked pleasantly.

"Sir?"

"I ask you what it is that troubles you."